"
The old clock in the corner here struck eleven.
"We mustn't keep you up too late the last night, Henry," said
Mrs. Frost. "You will need a good night's sleep to carry you
through to-morrow."
Neither of the three closed their eyes early that night. Thoughts
of the morrow were naturally in their minds. At last all was
still. Sleep--God's beneficent messenger--wrapped their senses in
oblivion, and the cares and anxieties of the morrow were for a
time forgotten.
CHAPTER X. LITTLE POMP
There was a hurried good-by at the depot.
"Kiss the children for me, Mary," said her husband.
"You will write very soon?" pleaded Mrs. Frost.
"At the very first opportunity."
"All aboard!" shouted the conductor.
With a shrill scream the locomotive started.
Frank and his mother stood on the platform watching the receding
train till it was quite out of sight, and then in silence our
young hero assisted his mother into the carryall and turned the
horse's head homeward.
It was one of those quiet October mornings, when the air is soft
and balmy as if a June day had found its way by mistake into the
heart of autumn.
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