DAVY'S SUBSTITUTE

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Mountain View, California · Sep 21, 1904

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 30, No. 37.

DAVY'S SUBSTITUTE.

[A. M. Barnes, in Christian Advocate.]

Davy must go to college," his mother said, with sudden decision.

"Go to college, Mrs. Few," echoed a blithe voice, "that he must! Do you know, I was going to mention that very thing to you?" and Ernest Page drew nearer, his blue eyes radiant. "I have said so for some time, that a way must be found to let Davy go to college," continued Ernest, "and now to think you, too, are of the opinion?"

"But how am I to go to college?" gasped Davy. "It takes money, and it takes time, too, such precious time. O, mother, you surely forget! There are the crops to be put in. How could I be spared from that, even if the money were at hand, which it isn't?"

His mother's lips trembled, but the glow was still in her eyes.

"There's a little money saved, as you know, David, and perhaps the president will wait for the balance till the crops are gathered."

"But who's to put in the crops if I go?" asked Davy.

He was surprised to see such wide forgetfulness on his mother's part. She usually kept so carefully in mind every detail.

"Why, your substitute, of course, old fellow," replied Ernest, gaily, as he threw his arm about Davy's neck.

"My substitute! What do you mean, Ernest?"

"I mean he who puts in the crops for you while you go away to drink at the fountain of knowledge, for which delightful draughts you, poor fellow, have thirsted so long."

"But who would it be, Ernest? My mother is not able to hire a man, for his wages and his board would eat up more than half the income from the crops."

"Now, see here, Davy?"

Ernest wheeled suddenly till he looked Davy full in the eyes.

"This thing is going to be done, so say no more about it; only get ready to go."

Get ready for college! Davy's heart leaped. But no, it could not be. It was folly even to think of it.

"Dear ones," he said, and now he put his arm about Ernest and reached for his mother's hand, "I know that you long so for me to go that your longing makes it seem as tho it could be accomplished. Yet think how impossible it is! Even with the kind assurance of President Spence that tuition will be free, there is the board to be paid, ten dollars a month, at the lowest."

"We have the forty-odd dollars from the cotton sold at Christmas," his mother said, wistfully.

"That will pay your passage and give you four months' board. Near that time we'll have the wheat crop in."

"But who is to plant and harvest the wheat?" cried Davy.

"I told you your substitute would do that," Ernest replied.

"But who is to be my substitute?" persisted Davy. "My mother can not hire a man, that is certain."

"Who said it was to be a man? Are you a man yourself, Davy? And haven't you put in the crops for the past two years?"

A sudden uncertain note in Ernest's voice caused Davy to grasp his friend's chin quickly, and to force his head upward until he had a full view of the telltale blue eyes that could never keep back aught that was in the heart.

"It can not be, Ernest, that—"

Ernest sprang to his feet and drew himself up to the full height of his seventeen years. It was not a robust form, but there was an energy, a certain staying quality, about it good to see.

"Yes, it is I, Davy," he began, his voice quivering with feeling, but growing stronger as he proceeded. "It is I who will be your substitute while you are away. I will help your mother with the crops, while you, poor, thirsty Davy, go to drink from the springs of knowledge. O, I can see you now! What draughts you will take! Dear, old fellow, it does me good even to think of it!"

Davy, too, had arisen now. His eyes were moist, his chin gave a quivering movement.

"I could never accept the sacrifice," he said, after a moment, steadily. "Think what you have already done for me, Ernest."

"Coached you a little that you might be able to enter the freshman class when just such an opportunity as is now offered came to you."

"A little?" echoed Davy, his eyes saying more than his words. "As if it has not been almost an every-night task for you all through the fall and a part of the winter! Say no more, Ernest, I can not accept this last great sacrifice from you, and neither can my mother."

"Nay, lad," she said, with trembling voice, "'tis too much after the other," but the glow in her eyes showed how much she longed for it.

"Then, there is your father to consider," added Davy.

"My father has an older son and a hired workman besides. Have you forgotten, Davy, that I was brought home from college that I might do, for a year, just such work as I propose, in order to get more brawn for the next year's brain work?"

"But you did not come home to do the whole work of a farm, and that for other people. Nay, I could never submit to it, Ernest."

"Davy," said his mother, suddenly, "Davy, lad, listen to your old mammy."

The pleading voice made Davy start, and gave to Ernest's heart a quicker bound.

"Listen to your old mammy," she repeated. "If you refuse you will break her heart. Let Ernest do this for you that he proposes. Some days we'll have a hired man to help with the hardest of the labor, and I, too, will do my share. Let Ernest take your place here, and do you go to college, Davy. Afterward you can repay him. O, lad, have I not seen how you have fairly hungered for the learning? Go now, and get it. Go to please your old mammy, if no more. Refuse, and 'twill break her heart."

The words ended in a sob, and her head went down.

Davy sprang to her side and threw his arms about her.

"Look up, mother," he begged. "I will go if you and Ernest say I must, but, O, it makes me feel so mean to think I am to gain my education at such a price!"

In three days more Davy was off to college, and a week later, Ernest came to begin the spring plowing. But, alas! he barely had the ground ready for the first sowing of wheat when, as he was riding home from the field, his horse shied at a white calf and threw him, breaking his leg. His grief at the turn of affairs was greater than his moaning over his pain.

"What will Davy's mother do now, without Davy's substitute?" he groaned. "But Davy must not know! yes, above all, Davy mustn't know! Perhaps father can find a way."

His father's will was good, but added misfortunes rendered him helpless. His hired man ran away, and a note for a large amount that Mr. Page had signed for a friend was left to him to pay.

Even at this hopeless stage, Davy's mother echoed Ernest's declaration, "Davy must not come home!"

She had worked side by side with Davy heretofore. She had hoed, but never plowed. Yet she knew how it ought to be done.

The story of Davy's substitute was not long in reaching the college; but, strange to say, the news of the change went much more slowly. Stranger still, not a whisper of it came to Davy's ears, even after others knew it.

Meanwhile, Davy was applying himself to study with such avidity, that every member of the faculty, from the president down, was first astonished, then touched, by the lad's hunger for knowledge.

He wrote bright letters home. After he had made up his mind to accept the sacrifice, Davy's resolve had never wavered, to keep every note of despondency out of his letters. Cheering words went to him in return. The most of these were from Ernest, who wrote as tho everything were going on as arranged. So it was, so far as the making of the crops was concerned, but never thought had Davy on the subject other than that Ernest was still his substitute.

Great was the rejoicing on both sides when the wheat was harvested, and the money was sent to pay Davy's board for the last two months of the term. Davy wrote, not only in grateful, but, in glowing, terms of his substitute. His praise was unstinted. "I declare, old fellow," he said, "you are far ahead of what I could have done. It is wonderful."

Then, indeed, did poor Ernest hang his head for shame, and, for the first time, felt that he would be willing to shorten Davy's term at college for the privilege of telling him the truth.

The term was drawing to a close. Davy applied himself with such vigor that the president had expressed himself of the opinion that did the boy study at home during the summer, he would be ready to skip the remainder of the freshman course, and enter the junior class. Davy's heart fairly sang for joy over the good news.

It was in the very midst of preparations for commencement that the bomb fell at poor Davy's feet, scattering his joy to the four winds.

"I say, Davy," Edward Willis said, accosting him as he was passing across the grounds, "have you heard the latest news from poor Ernest Page?" Then, ere waiting for Davy to reply, he continued: "The doctors say that the reason his broken leg hasn't mended faster is because it was not set right at first. His only chance now, it seems, to walk fair and straight again is to have it broken over and reset."

"Ernest's leg to be reset!" gasped Davy. "Why, I did not even know it was broken."

"You didn't? Well, that is astonishing! What have your correspondents at home been thinking of not to tell you?"

"How long since it happened?" stammered Davy, and unheeding the question of the other. "I mean when did Ernest break his leg?"

"Why, more than four months ago. And you didn't know it? Why, that's surprising!"

Davy, in a dazed state, saw him walk away. All his thoughts were in a whirl. Ernest's leg broken! Ernest confined to his room for four months! How, then, had he managed to serve as substitute on the farm for the boy who was away at college?

Could it be, now—? Davy felt his heart almost suffocating him at the thought. Nay, it couldn't be! Why, it was well-nigh impossible. But he would go home. He must satisfy himself as to just how things were.

The president denied his request; it was too near the close of the term. Then Davy broke down completely, and, sobbing like a child, told him all his fears.

"I must go home, sir," declared Davy. "My mother needs me. I feel sure she does. How long she has been working like a slave to keep me here, it makes my heart ache to think."

But, with all his fear, Davy had naught like a full conception of the real state of the case.

Everything along the way from the station had a familiar look that warmed Davy's heart; but the nearer he drew to his home, the greater grew his forebodings. How had his mother managed without Ernest's help? Of course, she had been obliged to hire a man for the plowing; but how did it come about that the money received for the wheat had been such a surprising sum, with the man's hire and keep to be considered?

Between an opening in the hickory trees, Davy caught his first view of the familiar fields. An exclamation of delight escaped him. Never had the corn at this season appeared so promising. The cotton, too, showed widespread, velvety leaves, full six inches above ground. What a master crop they would have, to be sure!

Davy hurried on. Some one was plowing. There were fresh furrows down more than half of the rows of corn. Soon Davy had a view of the moving figure; then he saw it more distinctly. There came a little choking gasp, and he sprang away as tho the motive power of the winds was under his feet.

She heard him coming, and turned suddenly.

"Davy!" she gasped.

Then the plow lines slipped from her grasp; she pushed the old sunbonnet further back, and reached for him with toil-hardened hands, a look of joy radiating her face.

"O, mother, mother!" reproached Davy, and every word was like a sob, "how could you have done it? How could you let me go on, not knowing you were working like a slave here?"

" 'Twas all for the education, lad. Mammy's boy was getting the learning for which he hungered, and that was enough. But I haven't done it all alone," she added, quickly; "don't think so, Davy, my boy. I had a man to help me at odd times."

"Had I known for one instant who was my substitute," cried Davy, "I never would have stayed."

"So I knew, honey, and I would not let them tell you."

He drew her gently to one side, pulled off his coat, placed it on her arm, and then, running his hands through the loops in the lines, grasped the plow handles.

"My place is here," he said, as he clucked to the horse. "I'll never go back."

But he did, for a noble man, a trustee of the college, hearing of the mother's sacrifice and the lad's devotion, provided a way, so that there was no longer any need for Davy to have a substitute.