"Not sure," said Frank. "We must not be too sure of anything, my grandma says."
"Well, then, I dare say I shan't wait for you," said the impatient George; "I do hate waiting, above all things."
"But you must try to be more patient," said Frank gently. "Does not your poor mamma say so, to you?"
"Ah! very often; almost every day," cried George; "but what's the good of that? for I keep hammering on, for anything I want. Oh! how I wish the holidays were here just now; I am so wretched!"
"Dear me! and instead of that, I feel so happy," said dear Frank. "Ten days will soon be gone, I think, and then—O then—Grandma will come, and see my prize, and look so very pleased, and take me home with her!"
CHAPTER II.
And Frank was right, my dear young reader, for the ten days soon passed away, and very pleasurably too, as even George confessed. There were so many extra sports provided—a magic lantern, and dissolving views for the last evening, with cakes and crackers, and amusing recitations, and all went very merrily to bed, looking forward to the following day, when they should see their friends and homes once more.
Frank felt a little sorry when the carriage came, without grandma to fetch him. He fairly jumped about within it, as though to make it carry him the faster to her. He bounded from it when it reached the door, and ran with outstretched arms into the drawing-room, where she was waiting to embrace him, and to listen fondly to all he had to tell. She gazed with tears of pleasure in her eyes, upon the handsome volume he presented, as a proof of his good conduct and improvement; and wiped her spectacles with care, to read the nice inscription on the title-page, and told him, "in return for his attention and obedience, it would give her pleasure to grant him many treats throughout the holidays."