In a small village like Rossville news flies fast. Even the distinctions
of social life do not hinder an interest being felt in the affairs of
each individual. Hence it was that Mr. Frost's determination to enlist
became speedily known, and various were the comments made upon his plan
of leaving Frank in charge of the farm. That they were not all favorable
may be readily believed. Country people are apt to criticize the
proceedings of their neighbors with a greater degree of freedom than is
common elsewhere.
As Frank was on his way to school on Saturday morning, his name was
called by Mrs. Roxana Mason, who stood in the doorway of a small yellow
house fronting on the main street.
“Good morning, Mrs. Mason,” said Frank politely, advancing to the gate
in answer to her call.
“Is it true what I've heard about your father's going to the war, Frank
Frost?” she commenced.
“Yes, Mrs. Mason; he feels it his duty to go.”
“And what's to become of the farm? Anybody hired it?”
“I am going to take charge of it,” said Frank modestly.
“You!” exclaimed Mrs. Roxana, lifting both hands in amazement; “why,
you're nothing but a baby!”
“I'm a baby of fifteen,” said Frank good-humoredly, though his courage
was a little dampened by her tone.
“What do you know about farming?” inquired the lady, in a contemptuous
manner. “Your father must be crazy!”
“I shall do my best, Mrs. Mason,” said Frank quietly, but with
heightened color. “My father is willing to trust me; and as I shall have
Mr. Maynard to look to for advice, I think I can get along.”
“The idea of putting a boy like you over a farm!” returned Mrs. Roxana,
in an uncompromising tone. “I did think your father had more sense.
It's the most shiftless thing I ever knew him to do. How does your poor
mother feel about it?”
“She doesn't seem as much disturbed about it as you do, Mrs. Mason,”
said Frank, rather impatiently; for he felt that Mrs. Mason had no right
to interfere in his father's arrangements.
“Well, well, we'll see!” said Mrs. Roxana, shaking her head
significantly. “If you'll look in your Bible, you'll read about 'the
haughty spirit that goes before a fall.' I'm sure I wish you well
enough. I hope that things'll turn out better'n they're like to. Tell
your mother I'll come over before long and talk with her about it.”
Frank inwardly hoped that Mrs. Roxana wouldn't put herself to any
trouble to call, but politeness taught him to be silent.
Leaving Mrs. Mason's gate, he kept on his way to school, but had hardly
gone half a dozen rods before he met an old lady, whose benevolent face
indicated a very different disposition from that of the lady he had just
parted with.
“Good morning, Mrs. Chester,” said Frank cordially, recognizing one of
his mother's oldest friends.
“Good morning, my dear boy,” was the reply. “I hear your father is going
to the war.”
“Yes,” said Frank, a little nervously, not knowing but Mrs. Chester
would view the matter in the same way as Mrs. Mason, though he felt sure
she would express herself less disagreeably.
“And I hear that you are going to try to make his place good at home.”
“I don't expect to make his place good, Mrs. Chester,” said Frank
modestly, “but I shall do as well as I can.”
“I have no doubt of it, my dear boy,” said the old lady kindly. “You can
do a great deal, too. You can help your mother by looking out for your
brothers and sisters, as well as supplying your father's place on the
farm.”
“I am glad you think I can make myself useful,” said Frank, feeling
relieved. “Mrs. Mason has just been telling me that I am not fit for the
charge, and that discouraged me a little.”
“It's a great responsibility, no doubt, to come on one so young,” said
the old lady, “but it's of God's appointment. He will strengthen your
hands, if you will only ask Him. If you humbly seek His guidance and
assistance, you need not fear to fail.”
“Yes,” said Frank soberly, “that's what I mean to do.”
“Then you will feel that you are in the path of duty. You'll be serving
your country just as much as if you went yourself.”
“That's just the way I feel, Mrs. Chester,” exclaimed Frank eagerly. “I
want to do something for my country.”
“You remind me of my oldest brother,” said the old lady thoughtfully.
“He was left pretty much as you are. It was about the middle of the
Revolutionary war, and the army needed recruits. My father hesitated,
for he had a small family depending on him for support. I was only two
years old at the time, and there were three of us. Finally my brother
James, who was just about your age, told my father that he would do all
he could to support the family, and father concluded to go. We
didn't have a farm, for father was a carpenter. My brother worked for
neighboring farmers, receiving his pay in corn and vegetables, and
picked up what odd jobs he could. Then mother was able to do something;
so we managed after a fashion. There were times when we were brought
pretty close to the wall, but God carried us through. And by and by
father came safely home, and I don't think he ever regretted having left
us. After awhile the good news of peace came, and he felt that he had
been abundantly repaid for all the sacrifices he had made in the good
cause.”
Frank listened to this narrative with great interest. It yielded him
no little encouragement to know that another boy, placed in similar
circumstances, had succeeded, and he just felt that he would have very
much less to contend against than the brother of whom Mrs. Chester spoke.
“Thank you for telling me about your brother Mrs. Chester,” he said. “It
makes me feel more as if things would turn out well. Won't you come over
soon and see us? Mother is always glad to see you.”
“Thank you, Frank; I shall certainly do so. I hope I shall not make you
late to school.”
“Oh, no; I started half an hour early this morning.”
Frank had hardly left Mrs. Chester when he heard a quick step behind
him. Turning round, he perceived that it was Mr. Rathburn, his teacher.
“I hurried to come up with you, Frank,” he said, smiling. “I understand
that I am to lose you from school.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Frank. “I am very sorry to leave, for I am very
much interested in my studies; but I suppose, sir, you have heard what
calls me away.”
“Your father has made up his mind to enlist.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you are to superintend the farm in his absence?”
“Yes, sir. I hope you do not think me presumptuous in undertaking such a
responsibility?”
He looked up eagerly into Mr. Rathburn's face, for he had a great
respect for his judgment. But he saw nothing to discourage him. On the
contrary, he read cordial sympathy and approval.
“Far from it,” answered the teacher, with emphasis. “I think you
deserving of great commendation, especially if, as I have heard, the
plan originated with you, and was by you suggested to your father.”
“Yes, sir.”
The teacher held out his hand kindly. “It was only what I should have
expected of you,” he said. “I have not forgotten your essay. I am glad
to see that you not only have right ideas of duty, but have, what is
rarer, the courage and self-denial to put them in practice.”
These words gave Frank much pleasure, and his face lighted up.
“Shall you feel obliged to give up your studies entirely?” asked his
teacher.
“I think I shall be able to study some in the evening.”
“If I can be of any assistance to you in any way, don't hesitate to
apply. If you should find any stumbling-blocks in your lessons, I may be
able to help you over them.”
By this time they had come within sight of the schoolhouse.
“There comes the young farmer,” said John Haynes, in a tone which was
only subdued lest the teacher should hear him, for he had no disposition
to incur another public rebuke.
A few minutes later, when Frank was quietly seated at his desk, a paper
was thrown from behind, lighting upon his Virgil, which lay open before
him. There appeared to be writing upon it, and with some curiosity he
opened and read the following:
“What's the price of turnips?”
It was quite unnecessary to inquire into the authorship. He felt
confident it was written by John Haynes. The latter, of course, intended
it as an insult, but Frank did not feel much disturbed. As long as his
conduct was approved by such persons as his teacher and Mrs. Chester, he
felt he could safely disregard the taunts and criticisms of others. He
therefore quietly let the paper drop to the floor, and kept on with his
lesson.
John Haynes perceived that he had failed in his benevolent purpose
of disturbing Frank's tranquillity, and this, I am sorry to say, only
increased the dislike he felt for him. Nothing is so unreasonable as
anger, nothing so hard to appease. John even felt disposed to regard as
an insult the disposition which Frank had made of his insulting query.
“The young clodhopper's on his dignity,” he muttered to himself. “Well,
wait a few months, and see if he won't sing a different tune.”
Just then John's class was called up, and his dislike to Frank was not
diminished by the superiority of his recitation. The latter, undisturbed
by John's feelings, did not give a thought to him, but reflected with a
touch of pain that this must be his last Latin recitation in school for
a long time to come.