Frank's father did not talk to his son then, but began taking measures for the greenhouse.
As for Frank, he was extremely angry with his father. He thought that his mother's memory was being slighted; but he resolved not to say a word about it to his father, and to let matters stand as they were.
Time passed on. The winter was over. It was the month of April. The birds sang in the trees, the grass was springing up, the fields were being clothed in verdure. Nature, which had lain so long dormant, was awakening. From the trees which looked dead a few weeks ago little buds were peeping forth, taking their first view of the world.
Frank Mathers was filled with delight as he watched this development of nature.
One evening when he had just finished planting some tomatoes, he was surprised to see his father enter the greenhouse.
Mr. Mathers' face was rather pale. He looked agitated.
"They look well," said the father, meaning the tomato plants.
"Yes, they do look well," answered his son; "I was just thinking as much before you came in."
There was a long silence here. Frank knew that his father had something to communicate to him, and he guessed what it was. However, he did not help him out of his embarrassment.