"Who's to hinder?" blustered Mark.

"I am," answered Frank, pointedly.

"You are nothing but a boy like me," retorted Mark.

"My mother is mistress here, and I represent her."

"Things may change soon," muttered Mark; but Frank had left the room and
did not hear him.

Mark did not trouble himself even to inquire for his stepmother, but
went out to the stable and lounged about until bedtime. He seemed very
much bored, and so expressed himself.

Frank wished to sit up all night with his mother, but, as she had a
professional nurse, it was thought best that he should obtain his
regular rest, the nurse promising to call the family if any change
should be apparent in her patient's condition.

About half-past four in the morning there was a summons.

"Mrs. Manning is worse," said the nurse. "I don't think she can last
long."

One last glance of love--though she could no longer speak--assured Frank
that she knew him and loved him to the last.

The memory of that look often came back to him in the years that
followed, and he would not have parted with it for anything that earth