CHAPTER XIV.
"DUTY, LAD, DUTY. STICK TO IT THROUGH THICK AND THIN."
This is a world of changes. There is nothing certain in it save death itself. Yes, it is a world of changes, and the sooner in youth one finds this out the better. The richest and the greatest men on earth would be fools were they to say to themselves, "Here we stand, and we shall never be moved." For all things pass away, and very often those we value the most are the first to vanish.
No one could have wished to see a happier, more hopeful face than that of Frank Fielding, as he turned about for the seventh or eighth time to wave an adieu to Fred and Toddie, standing yonder at the door of the old-fashioned whitewashed cottage.
Frank was going home to spend his Christmas at Benshee House; and a right happy and merry Christmas everyone connected with the house had determined it should be. Mr. Fielding himself, who had gone to London on most important business, would be down in time to partake of the festivities, so he had written. Nor was he coming alone. At least a dozen of his own and Mrs. Fielding's friends would come with him to spend the holy week, in a not over-holy way perhaps. So extra servants had been hired, and even an extra cook, "a chef," he called himself; and all throughout the parish, for a fortnight before this, nothing had been talked about except the great doings that were to take place at Benshee House.
The one and only drawback to Frank's happiness was, that his friends Fred and Toddie would not, or could not, be there.
This was no fault of Frank's, it may easily be believed. He had mentioned his wish to have them with him to his mother.
For once in a way she was haughtily obstinate.
"I can't help saying, Frank, I am just a little surprised at what you ask. There are very many and very weighty reasons why those poor children——"
Frank stuck his fingers resolutely in his ears till his mother ceased talking.