As Frank was on his way to school on Saturday morning, his name was called by Mrs. Roxana Mason, who stood in the doorway of a small yellow house fronting on the main street.
"Good morning, Mrs. Mason," said Frank politely, advancing to the gate in answer to her call.
"Is it true what I've heard about your father's going to the war, Frank Frost?" she commenced
"Yes, Mrs. Mason; he feels it his duty to go."
"And what's to become of the farm? Anybody hired it?"
"I am going to take charge of it," said Frank modestly.
"You!" exclaimed Mrs. Roxana, lifting both hands in amazement; "why, you're nothing but a baby!"
"I'm a baby of fifteen," said Frank good-humoredly, though his courage was a little dampened by her tone.
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