“As to that,” said his stepbrother, “you can’t expect father to be at the expense of feeding your horse.”

“With my money?”

“The money is legally his,” replied Mark.

“Do you know to whom your father has sold Ajax?”

“To Col.  Vincent, I believe.”

“I am glad, at any rate, that he will have a good master.”

Frank felt that there would be no advantage in prolonging the interview, or carrying on further a war of words.

He sought out his friend Herbert, and communicated to him this last infraction of his rights.

“It is too bad, Frank!” said his sympathizing friend.

“Yes, it is,” said Frank, gravely; “but I fear it is only the beginning of annoyances.  I don’t believe I can ever live in any place with Mr. Manning or Mark.”

“Will it be necessary?”

“I suppose so.  I have no money, as you know.  All has gone to him.  Herbert, I tell you frankly, I envy you and your position.”

“Though my father is a poor man?”

“Yes; for, at any rate, you have a peaceful home, and a father and mother who love you.  I have a stepfather, who will do all he can to make me miserable.”

“Would you be willing to work for your own support, Frank?”

“Yes; far rather than remain a dependent on Mr. Manning.”

“Suppose you should run away,” suggested Herbert.

Frank shook his head.

“I wouldn’t do that except in case of extreme necessity.  I know that if my mother knows what goes on here, it would grieve her for me to take such a step.”

“Suppose your stepfather should consent to your leaving home?”

“Then I would do so gladly.  I am willing to work and I think I could make a living in some way.”

“Why not ask him?”

Frank’s face brightened.

“Thank you for the hint, Herbert,” he said.  “I will think of it, and I may act upon it.”

Frank was naturally self-reliant and energetic.  He was not disposed to shrink from the duties of life, but was ready to go forth to meet them.  The idea which Herbert had suggested commended itself to him the more he thought of it.

In spite, therefore, of the news which he had received about Ajax, he resumed his cheerfulness, considerably to the surprise of Mark, whose natural suspicion led him to conjecture that Frank had some plan in view to circumvent his father.

“If he has, he’d better give it up,” reflected Mark.  “The old man’s as sly as a fox.  A raw boy like Frank can’t get the better of him.”

At the close of the week, both the boys went home.  They were on board the same train and the same car, but did not sit together.  When they reached the house, Mr. Manning was not at home.

Frank went out to the stable at once to see Richard Green, the coachman.

He found him, indeed, but he also found another man, a stranger, who appeared to be employed in the stable.