Country people are apt to criticize the proceedings of their neighbors with a greater degree of freedom than is common elsewhere.
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.
"What do you know about farming ?" inquired the lady, in a contemptuous manner.

"Your father must be crazy!" "I shall do my best, Mrs.Mason," said Frank quietly, but with heightened color.

"My father is willing to trust me; and as I shall have Mr.Maynard to look to for advice, I think I can get along." "The idea of putting a boy like you over a farm!" returned Mrs.Roxana, in an uncompromising tone.

"I did think your father had more sense.
It's the most shiftless thing I ever knew him to do.

How does your poor mother feel about it ?" "She doesn't seem as much disturbed about it as you do, Mrs.Mason," said Frank, rather impatiently; for he felt that Mrs.Mason had no right to interfere in his father's arrangements.
"Well, well, we'll see!" said Mrs.Roxana, shaking her head significantly.