Frank was as eager to accept the invitation as Philip had been to offer it. When the afternoon arrived, and school was over, Frank tore home, donned his best clothes, and then tore back again to Mr. Glenn's house. Philip received him in the small room, where he and his brother prepared their lessons.

"How is it that you and my boys write English so differently?" inquired Mr. Glenn, when he had made Frank's acquaintance.

Frank broke into a broad smile, suggested by the remembrance of Philip's English. "We study it at home, sir."

"But some one teaches you?"

"Mamma. She was afraid that we should grow up ignorant of everything except Latin and Greek; so she thought she would remedy the evil."

"And she takes you in an evening?"

"Yes, sir; every evening except Saturday, when she is sure to be busy. She comes to the table as soon as our lessons for school are prepared, and we commence English. The easier portions of our Latin and Greek we do in the day, I and Gar: we crib the time from play-hours; and my brother William helps us at night with the more difficult parts."

"Where is your brother at school?" asked Mr. Glenn.

"He is not at school, sir. He is at Mr. Ashley's, with Cyril Dare. William has not been to school since papa died. But he was well up in everything, for papa had taken great pains with him, and he has gone on by himself since."

"Can he do much good by himself?"

"Good!" echoed Frank, speaking bluntly in his eagerness; "I don't think you could find so good a scholar for his age. There's not one could come near him in the college school. At first he found it hard work. He had no one to explain difficult points for him, and was obliged to puzzle them out with his own brains. And it's that that has got him on."

Mr. Glenn nodded. "Where a good foundation has been laid, a hard-working boy may get on better without a master than with one, provided——"

"That is just what William says," interrupted Frank, his dark eyes sparkling with animation. "He would have given anything at one time to be at the college school with us; but he does not care about it now."

"Provided his heart is in his work, I was about to add," said Mr. Glenn, smiling at Frank's eagerness.

"Oh, of course, sir. And that's what William's is. He has such capital books, too—all the best that are published. They were papa's. I hardly know how I and Gar should get on, without William's help."

"Does he help you?"

"He has helped us ever since papa died; before we went to college, and since. We do algebra and Euclid with him."

"In—deed!" exclaimed Mr. Glenn, looking hard at Frank. "When do you contrive to do all this?"

"In the evening. Tea is over by half-past five, and we three—William, I, and Gar—turn at once to our lessons. In about two hours mamma joins us, and we work with her about two hours more. Of course we have different nights for different studies, Latin every night, Greek nearly every night, Euclid twice a week, algebra twice a week, and so on. And the lessons we do with mamma are portioned out; some one night, some another."

"You must be very persevering boys," cried Mr. Glenn. "Do you never catch yourselves looking off to play; to talk and laugh?"

"No, sir, never. We have got into the habit of sticking to our lessons; mamma brought us into it. And then, we are anxious to get on: half the battle lies in that."

"I think it does. Philip, my boy, here's a lesson for you, and for all other lazy scapegraces."

Philip shrugged his shoulders, with a laugh. "Papa, I don't see any good in working so hard."

"Your friend Frank does."

"We are obliged to work, sir," said Frank, candidly. "We have no money, and it is only by education that we can hope to get on. Mamma thinks it may turn out all for the best. She says that boys who expect money very often rely upon it and not upon themselves. She would rather turn us out into the world with our talents cultivated and a will to use them, than with a fortune apiece. There's not a parable in the Bible mamma is fonder of reading to us than that of the ten talents."

"No fortune!" repeated Mr. Glenn in a dreamy tone.

"Not a penny; mamma has to work to keep us," returned Frank, making the avowal as freely as though he had proclaimed that his mother was lady-in-waiting to the Queen, and he one of her pages. Jane had contrived to convince them that in poverty itself there lay no shame or stigma; but a great deal in paltry attempts to conceal it.

"Frank," said Mr. Glenn, "I was thinking that you must possess a fortune in your mother."

"And so we do!" said Frank. "When Philip's note came to me last night, and we were—were——"

"Laughing over it!" suggested Mr. Glenn, helping out Frank's hesitation, and laughing himself.

"Yes, that's it; only I did not like to say it," acknowledged Frank. "But I dare say you know, sir, how most of the college boys write. Mamma said then, how glad we ought to be that she can make time to teach us better, and that we have the resolution to persevere."

"I wish your mother would admit my sons to her class," said Mr. Glenn, half-seriously, half-jokingly. "I would give her any recompense."

"Shall I ask her?" cried Frank.

"Perhaps she would feel hurt?"

"Oh no, she wouldn't," answered Frank impulsively. "I will ask her."

"I should not like such a strict mother," avowed Philip Glenn.

"Strict!" echoed Frank. "Mamma's not strict."

"She must be. She says you shan't come fishing with us to-morrow."

"No, she did not. She said she wished me not to go, and thought I had better not, and then she left it to me."

Philip Glenn stared. "You told me at school this morning that it was decided you were not to come. And now you say Mrs. Halliburton left it to you."

"So she did," answered Frank. "She generally leaves these things to us. She shows us what we ought to do, and why it is right that we should do it, and then she leaves it to what she calls our own good sense. It is like putting us upon our honour."

"And you do as you know she wishes you would do?" interposed Mr. Glenn.

"Yes, sir, always."

"Suppose you were to take your own will for once against hers?" cried Philip in a cross tone. "What then?"

"Then I dare say she would decide herself the next time, and tell us we were not to be trusted. But there's no fear. We know her wishes are sure to be right; and we would not vex her for the world. The last time the dean was here there was a fuss about the choristers getting holiday so often; and he forbade its being done."

"But the dean's away," impatiently interrupted Philip Glenn. "Old Ripton is in residence, and he would give it you for the asking. He knows nothing about the dean's order."

"That's the very reason," returned Frank. "Mamma put it to me whether it would be an honourable thing to do. She said, if Dr. Ripton had known of the dean's order, then I might have asked him, and he could do as he pleased. She makes us wish to do what is right—not only what appears so."

"And you'll punish yourself by going without the holiday, for some rubbishing notion of 'doing right'! It's just nonsense, Frank."

"Of course we have to punish ourselves sometimes," acknowledged Frank. "I shall be wishing all day long to-morrow that I was with you. But when evening comes, and the day's over, then I shall be glad to have done right. Mamma says if we do not learn to act rightly and self-reliantly as boys we shall not do so as men."

Mr. Glenn laid his hand on Frank's shoulder. "Inculcate your creed upon my sons, if you can," said he, speaking seriously. "Has your mother taught it to you long?"

"She has always been teaching it to us; ever since we were little," rejoined Frank. "If we had to begin now, I don't know that we should make much of it."

Mr. Glenn fell into a reverie. As Mr. Ashley had once judged by some words dropped by William, so Mr. Glenn was judging now—that Mrs. Halliburton must be a mother in a thousand. Frank turned to Philip.

"Have you done your lessons?"

"Done my lessons! No. Have you?"

Frank laughed. "Yes, or I should not have come. I have not played a minute to-day—but cribbed the time. Scanning, and exercise, and Greek; I have done them all."

"It seems to me that you and your brothers make friends of your lessons, whilst most boys make enemies," observed Mr. Glenn.

"Yes, that's true," said Frank.

"Philip," said Mr. Glenn to his son that evening after Frank had departed, "I give you carte blanche to bring that boy here as much as you like. If you are wise, you will make a lasting friend of him."

"I like the Halliburtons," replied Philip. "The college school doesn't, though."

"And pray, why?"

"Well, I think Dare senior first set the school against them—that's Cyril, you know, papa. He was always going on at them. They were snobs for sticking to their lessons, he said, which gentlemen never did; and they were snobs because they had no money to spend, which gentlemen always had; and they were snobs for this, and snobs for the other; and he got his desk, which ruled the school, to cut them. They had to put up with a good deal then, but they are bigger now, and can fight their way; and, since Dare senior left, the school has begun to like them. If they are poor, they can't help it," concluded Philip, as if he would apologize for the fact.

"Poor!" retorted Mr. Glenn. "I can tell you, Master Philip, and the college school too, that they are rich in things that you want. Unless I am deceived, the Halliburtons will grow up to be men of no common order."