The Fraser Scholarship

"The Fraser Scholarship" is a short story by Lucy Maud Montgomery that explores the themes of ambition, sacrifice, and the complexities of human relationships. The narrative centers around a young woman who is determined to win a prestigious scholarship that would allow her to fulfill her dreams of education and independence. Through her journey, the story highlights the challenges she faces, including societal expectations and personal dilemmas. Montgomery weaves a poignant tale that captures the struggles and triumphs of pursuing one's aspirations while navigating the intricate dynamics of love and friendship.

• Short story

								
Elliot Campbell came down the main staircase of Marwood College and
found himself caught up with a whoop into a crowd of Sophs who were
struggling around the bulletin board. He was thumped on the back and
shaken hands with amid a hurricane of shouts and congratulations.

"Good for you, Campbell! You've won the Fraser. See your little name
tacked up there at the top of the list, bracketed off all by itself
for the winner? 'Elliott H. Campbell, ninety-two per cent.' A class
yell for Campbell, boys!"

While the yell was being given with a heartiness that might have
endangered the roof, Elliott, with flushed face and sparkling eyes,
pushed nearer to the important typewritten announcement on the
bulletin board. Yes, he had won the Fraser Scholarship. His name
headed the list of seven competitors.

Roger Brooks, who was at his side, read over the list aloud:

"'Elliott H. Campbell, ninety-two.' I said you'd do it, my boy.
'Edward Stone, ninety-one'--old Ned ran you close, didn't he? But of
course with that name he'd no show. 'Kay Milton, eighty-eight.' Who'd
have thought slow-going old Kay would have pulled up so well? 'Seddon
Brown, eighty-seven; Oliver Field, eighty-four; Arthur McIntyre,
eighty-two'--a very respectable little trio. And 'Carl McLean,
seventy.' Whew! what a drop! Just saved his distance. It was only his
name took him in, of course. He knew you weren't supposed to be strong
in mathematics."

Before Elliott could say anything, a professor emerged from the
president's private room, bearing the report of a Freshman
examination, which he proceeded to post on the Freshman bulletin
board, and the rush of the students in that direction left Elliott
and Roger free of the crowd. They seized the opportunity to escape.

Elliott drew a long breath as they crossed the campus in the fresh
April sunshine, where the buds were swelling on the fine old chestnuts
and elms that surrounded Marwood's red brick walls.

"That has lifted a great weight off my mind," he said frankly. "A good
deal depended on my winning the Fraser. I couldn't have come back next
year if I hadn't got it. That four hundred will put me through the
rest of my course."

"That's good," said Roger Brooks heartily.

He liked Elliott Campbell, and so did all the Sophomores. Yet none of
them was at all intimate with him. He had no chums, as the other boys
had. He boarded alone, "dug" persistently, and took no part in the
social life of the college. Roger Brooks came nearest to being his
friend of any, yet even Roger knew very little about him. Elliott had
never before said so much about his personal affairs as in the speech
just recorded.

"I'm poor--woefully poor," went on Elliott gaily. His success seemed
to have thawed his reserve for the time being. "I had just enough
money to bring me through the Fresh and Soph years by dint of careful
management. Now I'm stone broke, and the hope of the Fraser was all
that stood between me and the dismal certainty of having to teach next
year, dropping out of my class and coming back in two or three years'
time, a complete, rusty stranger again. Whew! I made faces over the
prospect."

"No wonder," commented Roger. "The class would have been sorry if you
had had to drop out, Campbell. We want to keep all our stars with us
to make a shining coruscation at the finish. Besides, you know we all
like you for yourself. It would have been an everlasting shame if
that little cad of a McLean had won out. Nobody likes him."

"Oh, I had no fear of him," answered Elliott. "I don't see what
induced him to go in, anyhow. He must have known he'd no chance. But I
was afraid of Stone--he's a born dabster at mathematics, you know, and
I only hold my own in them by hard digging."

"Why, Stone couldn't have taken the Fraser over you in any case, if
you made over seventy," said Roger with a puzzled look. "You must have
known that. McLean was the only competitor you had to fear."

"I don't understand you," said Elliott blankly.

"You must know the conditions of the Fraser!" exclaimed Roger.

"Certainly," responded Elliott. "'The Fraser scholarship, amounting to
four hundred dollars, will be offered annually in the Sophomore class.
The competitors will be expected to take a special examination in
mathematics, and the winner will be awarded two hundred dollars for
two years, payable in four annual instalments, the payment of any
instalment to be conditional on the winner's attending the required
classes for undergraduates and making satisfactory progress therein.'
Isn't that correct?"

"So far as it goes, old man. You forget the most important part of
all. 'Preference is to be given to competitors of the name Fraser,
Campbell or McLean, provided that such competitor makes at least
seventy per cent in his examination.' You don't mean to tell me that
you didn't know that!"

"Are you joking?" demanded Elliott with a pale face.

"Not a joke. Why, man, it's in the calendar."

"I didn't know it," said Elliott slowly. "I read the calendar
announcement only once, and I certainly didn't notice that
condition."

"Well, that's curious. But how on earth did you escape hearing it
talked about? It's always discussed extensively among the boys,
especially when there are two competitors of the favoured names, which
doesn't often happen."

"I'm not a very sociable fellow," said Elliott with a faint smile.
"You know they call me 'the hermit.' As it happened, I never talked
the matter over with anyone or heard it referred to. I--I wish I had
known this before."

"Why, what difference does it make? It's all right, anyway. But it is
odd to think that if your name hadn't been Campbell, the Fraser would
have gone to McLean over the heads of Stone and all the rest. Their
only hope was that you would both fall below seventy. It's an absurd
condition, but there it is in old Professor Fraser's will. He was rich
and had no family. So he left a number of bequests to the college on
ordinary conditions. I suppose he thought he might humour his whim in
one. His widow is a dear old soul, and always makes a special pet of
the boy who wins the Fraser. Well, here's my street. So long,
Campbell."

Elliott responded almost curtly and walked onward to his
boarding-house with a face from which all the light had gone. When he
reached his room he took down the Marwood calendar and whirled over
the leaves until he came to the announcement of bursaries and
scholarships. The Fraser announcement, as far as he had read it, ended
at the foot of the page. He turned the leaf and, sure enough, at the
top of the next page, in a paragraph by itself, was the condition:
"Preference shall be given to candidates of the name Fraser, Campbell
or McLean, provided that said competitor makes at least seventy per

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