"You haven't been in a hurry," he replied. "We have
been ready for you any time these twenty years, but you didn't seem to
pay much attention. Your account is rather flourishing. Interest, when
it gets to compounding, is quite a money breeder. Come back here to a
table and I will show you your balances."
Mrs. Comstock sank into a chair and waited while the cashier read a
jumble of figures to her. It meant that her deposits had exceeded her
expenses from one to three hundred dollars a year, according to the
cattle, sheep, hogs, poultry, butter, and eggs she had sold. The
aggregate of these sums had been compounding interest throughout the
years. Mrs. Comstock stared at the total with dazed and unbelieving
eyes. Through her sick heart rushed the realization, that if she merely
had stood before that wicket and asked one question, she would have
known that all those bitter years of skimping for Elnora and herself had
been unnecessary. She arose and went back to the depot.
"I want to send a message," she said. She picked up the pencil, and with
rash extravagance, wrote, "Found money at bank didn't know about. If you
want to go to college, come on first train and get ready." She hesitated
a second and then she said to herself grimly, "Yes, I'll pay for that,
too," and recklessly added, "With love, Mother." Then she sat waiting
for the answer. It came in less than an hour. "Will teach this winter.
With dearest love, Elnora.
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