“I am going to take charge of it,” said Frank modestly.
“You!” exclaimed Mrs. Roxana, lifting both hands in amazement; “why, you're nothing but a baby!”
“I'm a baby of fifteen,” said Frank good-humoredly, though his courage was a little dampened by her tone.
“What do you know about farming?” inquired the lady, in a contemptuous manner. “Your father must be crazy!”
“I shall do my best, Mrs. Mason,” said Frank quietly, but with heightened color. “My father is willing to trust me; and as I shall have Mr. Maynard to look to for advice, I think I can get along.”
“The idea of putting a boy like you over a farm!” returned Mrs. Roxana, in an uncompromising tone. “I did think your father had more sense. It's the most shiftless thing I ever knew him to do. How does your poor mother feel about it?”
“She doesn't seem as much disturbed about it as you do, Mrs. Mason,” said Frank, rather impatiently; for he felt that Mrs. Mason had no right to interfere in his father's arrangements.
“Well, well, we'll see!” said Mrs. Roxana, shaking her head significantly. “If you'll look in your Bible, you'll read about 'the haughty spirit that goes before a fall.' I'm sure I wish you well enough. I hope that things'll turn out better'n they're like to. Tell your mother I'll come over before long and talk with her about it.”
Frank inwardly hoped that Mrs. Roxana wouldn't put herself to any trouble to call, but politeness taught him to be silent.
Leaving Mrs. Mason's gate, he kept on his way to school, but had hardly gone half a dozen rods before he met an old lady, whose benevolent face indicated a very different disposition from that of the lady he had just parted with.