"
"What shall you do about it?"
"What can I do? I am only a boy. I have no proof, you know."
"How are you likely to be treated?"
"I have had a little foretaste of that."
"It looks very bad for you, Frank," admitted Herbert, in a tone of
sympathy.
"I don't so much care for the loss of the property, Herbert," said
Frank, "but I am afraid I shall have sorts of annoyances to endure from
Mark and his father. But I won't anticipate trouble. I will do my duty,
and trust that things will turn out better than I fear."
The next afternoon a letter was placed in Frank's hands. It was in a
brown envelope, and directed in a cramped and evidently unpracticed
hand, with which Frank was not familiar.
On opening it, a glance at the signature showed that it was from Richard
Green, the coachman. It commenced:
"Dear Mr. Frank: This comes hoping you are well. I have no good news to
tell. Mr. Manning has sold your horse, Ajax, and he is to be taken away
to-night. I thought you ought to know it, and that is why I take my pen
in hand to write."
There was more, but this is all that was important.
Frank's face flushed with anger. He immediately went in search of Mark,
who, he felt assured, knew of the sale.
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