ax then?"

"If he asks for it, you are to saddle Ajax for him. I don't want you to
get into any trouble with Mr. Manning on my account."

"I don't care for that, Mr. Frank. I can get another place, and I don't
much care to serve Mr. Manning."

"I would rather you would stay, if you can, Richard. I don't want to see
a new face in the stable."

"I don't think he means to keep me long, Mr. Frank. Deborah and I will
have to go, I expect, and he'll get some servants of his own here."

"Has he hinted anything of this, Richard?" asked Frank, quickly.

"No; but he will soon, you may depend on it. I won't lose sight of you,
though. I've known you since you were four years old, and I won't desert
you, if I can do any good--nor Deborah, either."

"I have two friends, then, at any rate," said Frank to himself. "That is
something."

CHAPTER VII

A SCHOOL FRIEND

Early Monday morning it had been the custom for Frank and Mark to take
the train for Bridgeville, to enter upon a new week at the academy.

Frank felt that it would be better for him to go back without any
further vacation, as occupation would serve to keep him from brooding
over his loss.

"Are you ready, Mark?" he asked, as he rose from the breakfast table.

"Ready for what?"

"To go back to school, of course."

"I am not going back this morning," answered Mark.

"Why not?" asked Frank, in some surprise.

"I am going to stay at home to help father," said Mark, with a glance at
Mr. Manning.

"If I can be of any service to you, sir, I will stay, too," said Frank,
politely.

"Thank you, but Mark will do all I require," replied his stepfather.

"Very well, sir."

Frank appeared at the academy with a grave face and subdued manner,
suggestive of the great loss he had sustained. From his schoolfellows,
with whom he was a favorite, he received many words of sympathy--from
none more earnest or sincere than from Herbert Grant.

"I know how you feel, Frank," he said, pressing the hand of his friend.
"If I could comfort you I would, but I don't know how to do it."

"I find comfort in your sympathy," said Frank. "I look upon you as my
warmest friend here."

"I am glad of that, Frank."

To Herbert alone Frank spoke of his mother and her devoted affection;
but even to him he did not like to mention the will and his
disinheritance. He did not so much lament the loss of the property as
that he had lost it by the direction of his mother, or, rather,