Then, with that set, stolid look of prodding ahead that characterized all Abner’s movements he clumsily tore open the envelope.

“Your mother is dying.  Come at once,” were the terse, cruel words that he read, signed with a neighbor’s initials.

The young man gave the gasp of a hurt thing and stood gaping up at Courtland.

“Nothing the matter, I hope,” said Courtland, kindly, moved by the gray, stricken look that had come over the poor fellow’s face.

“It’s mother!” he gasped.  “Read!” He thrust the telegram into Courtland’s hand and sank down on the side of his bed with his head in his hands.

“Tough luck, old man!” said Courtland, with a kindly hand on the bowed shoulder.  “But maybe it’s only a scare.  Sometimes people get better when they’re pretty sick, you know.”

Wittemore shook his head.  “No.  We’ve been expecting this, she and I. She’s been sick a long time.  I didn’t want to come back this year!  I thought she was failing!  But she would have it!  She’d got her heart so set on my graduating!”

“Well, cheer up!” said Courtland, breezily.  “Very likely your coming will help her to rally again!  What train do you want to get?  Can I help you any?”

Wittemore lifted his head and looked about his room helplessly.  It was plain he was dazed.

Courtland looked up the train, ’phoned for a taxi, went around the room gathering up what he thought would be necessities for the journey, while Wittemore was inadequately trying to get himself dressed.  Suddenly Wittemore stopped short in the midst of his ineffective efforts and drew something out of his pocket with an exclamation of dismay.

“I forgot about this medicine!” he gasped.  “I’ll have to wait for the next train!  Never mind that suit-case.  I haven’t time to wait for it!  I’ll go right up to the station as soon as I land this.”

He seized his hat and would have gone out the door, but Courtland grabbed him by the arm.

“Hold on, old fellow!  What’s up?  Surely you won’t let anything keep you from your mother now.”

“I must!” The words came with a moan of agony from the sensitive lips.  “It’s medicine for a poor old woman down in the settlement district.  She’s suffering horribly, and the doctor said she ought to have it to-night, but there was no one else to get it for her, so I promised.  She’s lying there waiting for it now, listening to every sound till I come.  Mother wouldn’t want me to come to her, leaving a woman suffering like that when I’d promised.  I only came up here to get car fare so I could get there sooner than walking.  It took all the change I had to get the prescription filled.”

“Darn you, Wittemore!  What do you think I am?  I’ll take the medicine to the old lady—­ten old ladies if necessary!  You get your train!  There’s your suit-case.  Have you got plenty of money?”

A blank look came over the poor fellow’s face.  “If I could find Dick Folsom I would have about enough.  He owes me something.  I did some copying for him.”