Sam looked troubled. “I didn’t know that was done,” he said after a moment. “Of course, I’d heard of such things, but I always thought it was just--just talk.”
“It’s done every day,” replied the other cheerfully. “Lucky it is, too, for a lot of worthy fellows who otherwise wouldn’t get the education they need. Take your case, Craig. I don’t know what line you expect to take up, but whatever it is, you know as well as I do that you ought to go through college. There’s nothing like a college education to fit a chap for his profession or business. I don’t mean only what he learns from books; I mean what he learns from association with other men of his own age, from instructors and professors as well; from being part of a small and busy world in which he is confronted by just such problems and difficulties--temptations, too--as he will meet with later in the bigger world. He has responsibilities and duties and learns to meet them and perform them, and in doing it he acquires self-dependence and self-control. A college education is a sort of general massage, Craig; it develops mind and body, brain and muscles. Don’t you think that’s so?”
“Very well. Now you need college, old man. Why not have it? You have something to exchange for your course. You have a fine talent for baseball. Take my own college, for instance, Warner; and there isn’t a finer one East or West. We need a chap like you to play on our ball team in a couple of years. And in return for your services we’ll give you an education. We won’t do it by buying you, Craig. We will do it by finding you a position that will meet your money requirements. And there’ll be no strings to you. We simply say, ‘Here’s a four-year course at Warner for you, which you are to pay for by filling this position to the best of your ability. All we ask beside that is that you play baseball for us and do your honest best to make good.’ That’s all. See what I mean?”
“Of course, if you had told me that you had selected your college I wouldn’t have said anything about this. But you haven’t, and you tell me you don’t believe you’ll go to college because of the expense. So, being a loyal grad, as well as a baseball enthusiast, I make this proposition to you, Craig, knowing that it is a mutually beneficial one; beneficial to you, as you can’t help seeing, and beneficial to Warner College in the way I’ve pointed out. And, lest you think the thing is all loyalty and unselfishness on my part, I don’t mind acknowledging that it would give me a lot of genuine satisfaction and pleasure, as well as a new interest, to be the means of bringing you and the college together. I don’t ask you to decide this matter now. Take all the time you want, Craig. You’ve got a year at high school yet, and, for that matter, if you preferred to wait another year before entering college there’d be no objection. In fact, it might be a good plan. You’d still be only nineteen, which is young enough, and you’d probably be of more good to the team. Of course, though, if you did that you’d need to keep on with your baseball work. It might be a good idea for you to play one summer on an amateur or a semi-professional team just for the experience. But you’d have to be careful not to accept any money. That sort of thing gets around and you might find yourself a professional; in which case we couldn’t use you at Warner, you know. You mull it over, old man, and then, later on in the autumn, drop me a line. Perhaps I’ll be down in your town before long and we can talk it over again. I’m not trying to force your hand to-night. Take all the time you want to decide, Craig.”