***
The loan pumped new life into the effort. Not only did it stop the dunning letters, but it seemed to trigger a major improvement in Bobber’s performance. With each weekly report, he rose higher in his class standings. The painful knot in Frank’s stomach began to loosen.
It disappeared altogether when the invitation to the graduating ceremony came. He breathed an enormous sigh of relief.
We did it, son!
Nobody at the ceremony was prouder than Frank Kough; Ann, of course, did not attend. He sat in the front watching the line of young men advance to receive their certificates from the school director. Not a one of them was under 19.
Bobber came last, smaller than the others but towering above them in ability. Even from a distance, Kough could tell that his son had changed a great deal. He seemed much older than his 14 years now, grave and dignified – almost a mature man.
This impression was reinforced after the ceremony when they attended the brief reception together. His son’s continuous chatter of prankish exploits had stopped; in its place was the quiet reserve he’d hitherto displayed only on the shooting range.
Of course, the boy was growing up and couldn’t be expected to keep his childish behavior forever, Kough reasoned. Still, he missed the old banter.
“Are you sorry it’s all over, Bob?” he asked on the drive home.
Somehow, it seemed inappropriate to call his son “Bobber” any more.
“No, I’m not sorry,” Bob replied.
He turned his face toward the side window.
“Well, that’s good,” Kough said. “I hope things aren’t too dull for you at home – now that you’ve seen the wider world.”
Bob wasn’t listening, though he nodded his head.