7 ACORN "That's the way women look at it. I believe it is his conscience telling- him he is a spendthrift." Mr. Warrington went to Bob's room and when he opened the door Bob looked up with a start. A long time elapsed before his father broke the silence. "Well, we might as well settle this question first as last. Where have you been spending your money?" Bob remained silent. His face wore a troubled expression which changed to one of the deepest anxiety. "I can guess where you have spent it and I want to tell you now I have no money for foolishness. If you are going to keep this up you can get out and earn your own money." "Father, I'd like to explain. I don't like to have you think I would do anything of a derogatory nature, but certain conditions prevent me from explaining fully the circumstances. I can offer a partial explanation, if that will do" "If I can't know all, I will know nothing. Fragments of a story are never satisfactory. I have given my stand and you may take yours." Bob sat thinking for a while, then he left the house and, without saying anything, he saddled his horse and started for the ranch about four miles west. The latter half of the journey was through a forest and it was pitch dark before he entered it. Bob's mind was so full of troubled thoughts that he did not notice he had taken the wrong path. His hands and face were stinging with the cold. He tried to urge the horse to go faster, but it would just walk. Then it stopped. This so angered him that he gave the horse a stinging blow. The noble animal at this time knew more than the master and would not move. Bob was at a loss to know what to do, for he seemed alone in the world. It was too dark to see where he was and the only living sound was the bark of the coyote. Then suddenly he remembered that there was still a source of help, the greatest help that could be given. So with his whole heart and soul, he prayed to be shown where he was and guided to a place of a safety. He got off and, by crawling around, found that he had lost the road and that the thicket was impassable. He felt around and found an opening in the brush to the right and turned his horse that way. He had not gone far when the forest ended and in a short distance he could see a light. Encouraged by this he hurried toward the light, which came from a farmhouse. He knocked on the door. An old gentleman came and asked what he wanted. Bob replied that he would like to stay through the night. The man said, "No, I'm afraid we can't accommodate anyone tonight. Weary and disheartened, Bob turned to go when he heard a voice which was familiar say: "Grandfather, don't send anyone out this night." Bob turned to see who spoke and found himself in the pres- ACORN 8 ence of Ora Greenwell. She cheerfully invited him in and, after partaking of an appetizing supper, she asked how he had come there. When Bob told her all that had happened, she said, "Why didn't you explain to your father? If I had a father and mother I would do all in my power to please and comfort them." Ora's words had a great effect on him. When he awoke the next morning he was ready to go back to his home. Shortly after the morning meal Bob started for home. He wondered what he would say to his father, but when he got home his father and mother met him at the gate. "My son, forgive me for accusing you of being dishonorable. A letter came for you last night and it so impressed me that I opened it, and by doing so found where you had spent the money." Bob took the letter handed to him and read: My Dear Chum: I am very pleased to tell you that I can now pay you the money you loaned me. It's hard for me to say it, but if it hadn't been for you I never could have got up the courage to face the principal and give him back the money I was so weak as to take. I hope you have had no difficulty for my sake. Sincerely yours, Bill Goddard. DORA FULLER, '17. The Wilted Flower Into a garden of bright, blooming flowers, I wandered, thrilled with the sight; As I glanced at the blossoms and partook of their odor, I was filled with a strange delight. But ere long had I wandered in this place, I noticed, apart from the flowers, One that droopingly lowered its head, Being sheltered from the summer showers. I went over to this fading flower, And sprinkled water over its head, And lo! next day when I returned, The withered look had fled. We wander in life among bright, cheery friends, But there's those who are bowed down with grief. And if only we pause and lend them a hand, We can comfort and bring them relief. IRENE SCOVILLE.