“Yes, father.”

“And, of course, that will put you back; your class-mates will get in advance of you.”

“I have thought of that, father, and I shall be very sorry for it.  But I think that is one reason why I desire the plan.”

“I don’t understand you, Frank,” said his father, a little puzzled.

“You see, father, it would require a sacrifice on my part, and I should feel glad to think I had an opportunity of making a sacrifice for the sake of my country.”

“That’s the right spirit, Frank,” said his father approvingly.  “That’s the way my grandfather felt and acted, and it’s the way I like to see my son feel.  So it would be a great sacrifice to me to leave you all.”

“And to us to be parted from you, father,” said Frank.

“I have no doubt of it, my dear boy,” said his father kindly.  “We have always been a happy and united family, and, please God, we always shall be.  But this plan of yours requires consideration.  I will talk it over with your mother and Mr. Maynard, and will then come to a decision.”

“I was afraid you would laugh at me,” said Frank.

“No,” said his father, “it was a noble thought, and does you credit.  I shall feel that, whatever course I may think it wisest to adopt.”

The sound of a bell from the house reached them.  This meant breakfast.  Mr. Frost had finished milking, and with a well-filled pail in either hand, went toward the house.

“Move the milking:-stool, Frank,” he said, looking behind him, “or the cow will kick it over.”

Five minutes later they were at breakfast.

“I have some news for you, Mary,” said Mr. Frost, as he helped his wife to a sausage.

“Indeed?” said she, looking up inquiringly.

“Some one has offered to take charge of the farm for me, in case I wish to go out as a soldier.”

“Who is it?” asked Mrs. Frost, with strong interest.

“A gentleman with whom you are well—­I may say intimately acquainted,” was the smiling response.

“It isn’t Mr. Maynard?”

“No.  It is some one that lives nearer than he.”

“How can that be?  He is our nearest neighbor.”

“Then you can’t guess?”

“No.  I am quite mystified.”

“Suppose I should say that it is your oldest son?”

“What, Frank?” exclaimed Mrs. Frost, turning from her husband to her son, whose flushed face indicated how anxious he was about his mother’s favorable opinion.

“You have hit it.”

“You were not in earnest, Frank?” said Mrs. Frost inquiringly.

“Ask father.”

“I think he was.  He certainly appeared to be.”

“But what does Frank know about farming?”

“I asked him that question myself.  He admitted that he didn’t know much at present, but thought that, with Mr. Maynard’s advice, he might get along.”

Mrs. Frost was silent a moment.  “It will be a great undertaking,” she said, at last; “but if you think you can trust Frank, I will do all I can to help him.  I can’t bear to think of having you go, yet I am conscious that this is a feeling which I have no right to indulge at the expense of my country.”