ching
separation swallowed up all others. The thought kept recurring that
to-morrow would see them many miles apart, and that many a long
to-morrow must pass before they would again be gathered around the fire.

"Frank," said his father, at length, "I have deposited in the Brandon
Bank four hundred dollars, about half of which I have realized from
crops sold this season. This you will draw upon as you have need, for
grocery bills, to pay Jacob, etc. For present purposes I will hand you
fifty dollars, which I advise you to put under your mother's care."

As he finished speaking, Mr. Frost drew from his pocketbook a roll of
bills and handed them to Frank.

Frank opened his portemonnaie and deposited the money therein.

He had never before so large a sum of money in his possession, and
although he knew it was not to be spent for his own benefit--at least,
no considerable part of it--he felt a sense of importance and even
wealth in being the custodian of so much money. He felt that his
father had confidence in him, and that he was in truth going to be his
representative.

"A part of the money which I have in the bank," continued his father,
"has been saved up toward the payment of the mortgage on the farm."

"When does it come due, father?"

"On the first of July of next year."

"But you won't be prepared to meet it at that time?"

"No, but undoubtedly Squire Haynes will be willing to renew it. I always
pay the interest promptly, and he knows it is secured by the farm, and
therefore a safe investment. By the way, I had nearly forgotten to say
that there will be some interest due on the first of January. Of course,
you are authorized to pay it just as if you were myself."

"How much will it be?"

"Twenty-four dollars--that is, six months' interest at six per cent. on
eight hundred dollars."

"I wish the farm were free from encumbrance," said Frank.

"So do I; and if Providence favors me it shall be before many years are
past. But in farming one can't expect to lay by money quite as fast as
in some other employments."

The old clock in the corner here struck eleven.

"We mustn't keep you up too late the last night, Henry," said Mrs.
Frost. "You will need a good night's sleep to carry you through
to-morrow."

Neither of the three closed their eyes early that night. Thoughts of
the morrow were naturally in their minds. At last all was still.
Sleep--God's beneficent messenger--wrapped their senses in oblivion