“You are very impertinent.  You forget that you are nothing but a servant.”

“A servant has the right to be decently treated, Mr. Mark.”

“If you don’t look out,” said Mark, in a blustering tone, “I will report you to my father, and have you kicked out of the house.”

Deborah was naturally incensed at this rude speech, but she was spared the trouble of replying.  Frank entered the room at this moment in time to hear Mark’s last speech.

“What is this about being kicked out of the house?” he asked, looking from Mark to Deborah, in a tone of unconscious authority, which displeased his stepbrother.

“That is my business,” replied Mark, shortly.

“Mr. Mark has threatened to have me kicked out of the house because he has to wait for his supper,” said Deborah.

“It wasn’t for that.  It was because you were impertinent.  All the same, I think it is shameful that I can’t get anything to eat.”

“I regret, Mark,” said Frank, with cool sarcasm, “that you should be inconvenienced about your meals.  Perhaps you will excuse it, as my poor mother is so sick that she requires extra attention from the servants.  Deborah, if possible, don’t let Mark wait much longer.  It seems to be very important that he should have his supper.”

“He shall have it,” assured Deborah, rather enjoying the way in which Mark was put down; “that is, if he don’t get me kicked out of the house.”

“You had better not make any such threats in the future, Mark,” said Frank, significantly.

“Who’s to hinder?” blustered Mark.

“I am,” answered Frank, pointedly.

“You are nothing but a boy like me,” retorted Mark.

“My mother is mistress here, and I represent her.”

“Things may change soon,” muttered Mark; but Frank had left the room and did not hear him.

Mark did not trouble himself even to inquire for his stepmother, but went out to the stable and lounged about until bedtime.  He seemed very much bored, and so expressed himself.

Frank wished to sit up all night with his mother, but, as she had a professional nurse, it was thought best that he should obtain his regular rest, the nurse promising to call the family if any change should be apparent in her patient’s condition.

About half-past four in the morning there was a summons.

“Mrs. Manning is worse,” said the nurse.  “I don’t think she can last long.”

One last glance of love—­though she could no longer speak—­assured Frank that she knew him and loved him to the last.

The memory of that look often came back to him in the years that followed, and he would not have parted with it for anything that earth could give.

Just as the clock struck five, his mother breathed her last.  The boy gazed upon the inanimate form, but he was dazed, and could not realize that his mother had left him, never to return.