"I apprehend," said Mr. Manning, "that you may make some mistakes upon that point."
"I will try not to do so, sir."
Frank left the room, and this time was not called back.
His stepfather looked after him, but his face expressed neither friendliness nor satisfaction.
"That boy requires taming," he said to himself. "He is going to make trouble. I must consider what I will do with him."
As Mr. Manning reviewed Frank's words, there was one thing which especially disturbed him—the doubt expressed by his stepson as to his mother's having actually made the will.
He saw that it would not do for him to go too far in his persecution of Frank as it might drive the latter to consult a lawyer in regard to the validity of the will by which he had been disinherited.
Frank rather gloomily made his way to the stable. As he reached it, Richard Green came out.
"I'm sorry for you, Mr. Frank. But your mother was a saint. She was too good to suspect the badness of others, Mr. Frank. She thought old Manning was really all that he pretended to be, and that he would be as kind to you as she was herself. When she was alive, he was always as soft as—as silk."
"His manner has changed now," said Frank, gravely. "Excuse me, Richard, for finding fault with you, but don't call him old Manning."