“What is it?” he asked, looking at it with sullen suspicion.
“Oh, just a little form Hugh wants you to sign, in case anything should happen. It’s a release.”
“A release from what?” said Eugene, staring at it.
Then, as his mind picked its way slowly through the glib jargon of the law, he saw that the paper was an acknowledgment that he had already received the sum of five thousand dollars in consideration of college fees and expenses. He lifted his scowling face to his brother. Luke looked at him for a moment, then burst into a crazy whah-whah, digging him in the ribs. Eugene grinned sullenly, and said:
“Give me your pen.”
He signed the paper and gave it back to his brother with a feeling of sad triumph.
“Whah-whah! Now you’ve done it!” said Luke, with witless guffaw.
“Yes,” said Eugene, “and you think me a fool for it. But I’d rather be done now than later. That’s my release, not yours.”
He thought of Hugh Barton’s grave foxy face. There was no victory for him there and he knew it. After all, he thought, I have my ticket and the money for my escape in my pocket. Now, I am done with it cleanly. It’s a good ending, after all.
When Eliza heard of this occurrence, she protested sharply:
“Why here!” she said. “They’ve no right to do that. The child’s still a minor. Your papa always said he intended to give him his education.”
Then, after a thoughtful pause, she said doubtfully: “Well, we’ll see, then. I’ve promised to send him for a year.”
In the darkness by the house, Eugene clutched at his throat. He wept for all the lovely people who would not come again.
Eliza stood upon the porch, her hands clasped loosely across her stomach. Eugene was leaving the house and going toward the town. It was the day before his departure; dusk was coming on, the hills were blooming in strange purple dusk. Eliza watched him go.
“Spruce up there, boy!” she called. “Spruce up! Throw your shoulders back!”
