him, but reflected with a touch of pain that this must be his
last Latin recitation in school for a long time to come.



CHAPTER IX. THE LAST EVENING AT HOME

Three weeks passed quickly. October had already reached its
middle point. The glory of the Indian summer was close at hand.
Too quickly the days fled for the little family at the farm, for
they knew that each brought nearer the parting of which they
could not bear to think.

Jacob Carter, who had been sent for to do the heavy work on the
farm, had arrived. He was a man of forty, stout and able to work,
but had enjoyed few opportunities of cultivating his mind. Though
a faithful laborer, he was destitute of the energy and ambition
which might ere this have placed him in charge of a farm of his
own. In New England few arrive at his age without achieving some
position more desirable and independent than that of farm
laborer. However, he looked pleasant and good-natured, and Mr.
Frost accounted himself fortunate in securing his services.

The harvest had been got in, and during the winter months there
would not be so much to do as before. Jacob, therefore, "hired
out" for a smaller compensation, to be increased when the spring
work came in.

Frank had not been idle. He had accompanied his father about the
farm, and received as much practical instruction in the art of