Making His Way

ated Frank. "Yes, her sufferings are over. Let us hope she is better off. My boy, I think you had better return to your bed. You can do nothing for your mother now." "I would rather stay here," said Frank, sadly. "I can at least look at her, and soon I shall lose even that comfort." The thought was too much for the poor boy, and he burst into tears. "Do as you please, Frank," assented Mr. Manning. "I feel for you, and I share in your grief. I will go and tell Mark of our sad loss." He made his way to Mark's chamber and entered. He touched Mark, who was in a doze, and he started up. "What's the matter?" he asked, crossly. "Your poor mother is dead, Mark." "Well, there was no need to wake me for that," said the boy, irritably. "I can't help it, can I?" "I think, my son, you might speak with more feeling. Death is a solemn thing." "There's nobody here but me," said Mark, sneering. "I don't catch your meaning," said his father, showing s