“Good-by, Mr. Morton,” said Frank, waving his cap as the stage started. “I hope you'll soon be back.”

“I hope so, too; good-by.”

Crack went the whip, round went the wheels. The horses started, and the stage rumbled¹ off, swaying this way and that, as if top-heavy.

Frank went slowly back to the house, feeling quite lonely. He had become so accustomed to Mr. Morton's companionship that his departure left a void which he hardly knew how to fill.

As he reflected upon Mr. Morton's story he began to feel an increased uneasiness at the mortgage held by Squire² Haynes upon his father's farm. The time was very near at hand—only ten days off—when the mortgage might be foreclosed, and but half the money was in readiness.

Perhaps, however, Squire Haynes had no intention of foreclosing. If so, there was no occasion for apprehension³. But about this he felt by no means certain.

He finally determined⁴, without consulting his mother, to make the squire a visit and inquire frankly⁵ what he intended to do. The squire's answer would regulate his future proceedings⁶.

It was Frank's rule—and a very good one, too—to do at once whatever needed to be done. He resolved to lose no time in making his call.

“Frank,” said his mother, as he entered the house, “I want you to go down to the store some time this forenoon, and get me half a dozen pounds of sugar.”

“Very well, mother, I'll go now. I suppose it won't make any difference if I don't come back for an hour or two.”

“No, that will be in time.”

Mrs. Frost did not ask Frank where he was going. She had perfect faith in him, and felt sure that he would never become involved in anything discreditable.

Frank passed through the village without stopping at the store. He

分享到：