FRANK'S FRIENDS.
"WHAT nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Monks, when her husband repeated to her what had passed. "Why, I should as soon suspect Mrs. Jocelyn herself, or Squire Rawson. But I wonder a little that Frank does not explain why he was there."
The gentleman smiled. "I know Frank well enough to guess why he does not. He is a proud fellow, and such a suspicion would cut him like a knife."
Under the window they could hear the boy whistling, and, on looking down, Mrs. Monks saw him sitting on the door-step listlessly breaking a dry stick into pieces.
"Frankey," she called out, "don't you want Ida? she's been calling Ank, Ank, this half hour."
He sprang to his feet, and answered:
"Yes, ma'am, I do," in an eager voice.
"I'll put on her sack, and bring her down to you. She can go to walk if you have a mind."
Mr. Monks smiled archly, as he watched the handsome boy leading little flaxen-haired Ida along the gravelled walk. His merry laugh and bright face proved that, for the time, he had thrown all care to the winds, while the pretty child, clinging so confidingly to his finger was prattling in the sweetest tones.
"That was a happy thought of yours," said her husband, gazing archly in her face; "women always do seem to understand how to manage these matters better than men."