“It cannot be seven,” he said to himself. “It looks very early yet. Perhaps I counted too fast.”
Frank thought it better to hurry to dress himself, however, and was soon seated by the window, with his book in his hand.
But he had scarcely commenced studying when the breakfast-bell rung. Frank knew then that it must be half-past seven; and he ran down stairs, feeling a good deal mortified, and somewhat anxious as to how he should get through his lessons.
He found his father already seated, with the large Bible open before him; for morning worship always preceded breakfast. So Frank took his place at once, only waiting to give his mother a smile and a kiss; for he felt delighted to see her in her accustomed seat once more.
The family remained at the breakfast-table rather longer than usual, because it seemed so pleasant to be all together again; but at length Mr. Wilbur rose, and said he must go to his business.
“I am half an hour behind-hand this morning,” he added, smiling; “but, as it is mother’s first appearance since her illness, I did not like to be in haste.”
Frank cast his eyes toward the clock as his father spoke, and saw to his dismay that it was half-past eight.
“Are your lessons prepared, Frank?” asked his mother rather anxiously, as he sprang up in haste.
Frank felt ashamed to say that they were not, for he remembered how positive he had been the evening before that nothing could prevent him from learning them in the morning. But he was an honest boy, and told the whole truth at once.
There was no help for it now, for it was time for him to go to school; and so, with a heavy satchel of books upon his shoulder, and with a heart almost as heavy as the books, Frank bade his mother good-morning, and set off on his walk.