"I can't bear the thought of losing you, mother," said Frank, deeply
moved.

"You will miss me, then, Frank?" said Mrs. Fowler.

"Shall I not? Grace and I will be alone in the world."

"Alone in the world!" repeated the sick woman, sorrowfully, "with
little help to hope for from man, for I shall leave you nothing. Poor
children!"

"That isn't what I think of," said Frank, hastily.

"I can support myself."

"But Grace? She is a delicate girl," said the mother, anxiously. "She
cannot make her way as you can."

"She won't need to," said Frank, promptly; "I shall take care of her."

"But you are very young even to support yourself. You are only
fourteen."

"I know it, mother, but I am strong, and I am not afraid. There are a
hundred ways of making a living."

"But do you realize that you will have to start with absolutely nothing?
Deacon Pinkerton holds a mortgage on this house for all it will bring in
the market, and I owe him arrears of interest besides."