He had walked from the small town to the boarding school as a scholarship day-student every day since moving to Collingsworth from Boston after his parents’ death from influenza when he was twelve. Nearly six years later, he was starting his last year of school, nearing the end of his residence with his mother’s indifferent cousin, and facing an uncertain future. Educated as a gentleman in the finer points of etiquette needed for a society to which he would never be admitted, and with no money to continue his education, he weighed his limited options. Thinking of the military career that likely awaited, he didn’t notice that the gatekeeper had unlocked the gate and was waiting for him to pass through. “Good morning Mr. Taylor,” the gatekeeper said loudly, a smile hidden beneath his large mustache. “A bit sleepy, are we this morning?” “What? Oh, yes. A bit distracted, I think. Thank you.” Michael ducked through the gate and followed the winding path through the light mist to the school and morning assembly.
