When she was but a young woman she had moved to the big city, and
started her dressmaker's shop, so that he could have a better chance at
school. What a loving boy he was! So full of fun!

The wind whistled outside. She thought it was he, and she heard him
again: "You're my handsome sister. Not one of the fellows have as
handsome a sister as I."

How proud she had felt when she had started him off to college. "It only
means a few years of a little harder work, and then I'll see my boy able
to take his stand with anybody."

But now she wept and groaned afresh. "Oh, how could he treat me so, how
could he! The wretched disgrace!"

He had been expelled. The president's letter was severe; but the young
man's letter regretted it as only a boyish prank. He was sorry. He had
never expected anything so serious would come of it. He deserved the
disgrace. It only hurt him through his love for her. But only forgive
him, and he would show her what he could yet do.

What had he done?

He had tied a calf to the president's door-bell.

She remembered her answer to this letter, asking for her forgiveness. It
stood before her, written in characters of flame.

Had she in this been harsh to the boy, the only legacy her dying mother