“Mr. Anderson’s money has been frittered away,” she said. “He lent it to everybody; and instead of preserving their notes, or their bills, or whatever it was, he threw them into the fire, I suppose. And nobody paid. I believe half St. Rule’s is built on old Mr. Anderson’s money, the money that ought to be yours. But he never kept the papers, and none of them have been so honourable as to pay.” Frank stared at his mother with a bewildered face. He had never managed his own affairs. For a year or two past, he had begun to think that this was foolish, and that he might perhaps, if he tried, learn to understand business as well as his mother; but he had never had the strength of mind to assert himself. He had received an ample allowance from her hands, and he had tacitly agreed that until the Scotch property became his, everything should go on as before. But it had always been understood, that when he attained his Scotch majority, there was to be a change. His Scotch majority was to be a great day. All the hoards of his old uncle were then to come into his hands. Retarded manhood, independence, and wealth were all to be his. And now what was this he heard, that these hoards of money were frittered away? He could not at once understand or grasp what it meant. He stared at his mother with bewildered eyes. “I wish you would tell me what you mean,” he said. “What has happened? Is it something you have found out? Is there anything that can be done? I cannot believe that all the property is lost.” “There is one thing that can be done, Frank. If we can find out the defaulters, we can still make them pay up. But we must make haste, for in another year the Statute of Limitations will come in, and they will be beyond our reach.” “What is the Statute of Limitations? and how can we make them pay up? And what does it mean altogether?” said the disturbed young man. “Mother, you should not have let me go on like this, knowing nothing about it. I ought to have known. And how am I to find them out and make them pay up? You that have always managed everything, you ought to have done it.” “My son, whom I have always spared and saved from all trouble,” she said, throwing up her hands, “he tells me I should have done that! Oh, Frank, it isn’t very pretty of you to upbraid me, when I have always done everything for the best.” “Mother, I don’t want to upbraid you. I daresay you have done everything that was right,” he said, “but this is rather a dreadful thing to find out all at once. And there must be something that can be done--tell me whether there isn’t something I could do.”