Frank came to a decision the next morning. A long deferred interview with his stepfather was necessary. Having made up his mind, he entered the room in which his stepfather sat. His air was manly and his bearing that of a boy who respects himself, but there was none of the swagger which some boys think it necessary to exhibit when they wish to assert their rights.
Mr. Manning, in a flowered dressing gown, sat at a table, with a sheet of paper before him and a lead pencil in his hand. Short as had been the interval since his accession to the property, he was figuring up the probable income he would derive from the estate.
He looked up as Frank entered the room, and surveyed him with cold and sarcastic eyes. His soft tones were dropped.
"Mr. Manning," said Frank, "I wish to talk to you."
"You may, of course," his stepfather replied mildly. "It is about the will," Frank advised him.
"So you would complain of your poor mother, would you?" said his stepfather, in a tone of virtuous indignation.
"I cannot believe that my mother made that will."
Mr. Manning colored. He scented danger. Should Frank drop such hints elsewhere, he might make trouble, and lead to a legal investigation, which Mr. Manning had every reason to dread.
"This is very foolish," he said, more mildly. "No doubt you are disappointed, but probably your mother has provided wisely. You will want for nothing, and you will be prepared for the responsibilities of manhood under my auspices."
Mr. Manning's face assumed a look of self-complacence as he uttered these last words.