Fran | Page 7

don't want to go back to that meeting. Please don't want to leave me. You are so learned and old and so strong--you don't care why a little girl laughs."
Fran tilted her head sidewise, and the glance of her eyes proved irresistible. "But tell me about Mr. Gregory," she pleaded, "and don't mind my ways. Ever since mother died, I've found nothing in this world but love that was for somebody else, and trouble that was for me."
The pathetic cadence of the slender-throated tones moved Abbott more than he cared to show.
"If you're in trouble," he exclaimed, "you've sought the right helper in Mr. Gregory. He's the richest man in the county, yet lives so simply, so frugally--they keep few servants--and all because he wants to do good with his money."
"I guess his secretary is considerable help to him," Fran observed.
"I don't know how he'd carry on his great work without her. I think Mr. Gregory is one of the best men that ever lived."
Fran asked with simplicity, "Great church worker?"
"He's as good as he is rich. He never misses a service. I can't give the time to it that he does--to the church, I mean; I have the ambition to hold, one day, a chair at Yale or Harvard--that means to teach in a university--" he broke off, in explanation.
Fran held out her swinging foot, and examined the dusty shoe. "Oh," she said in a relieved tone, "I was afraid it meant to sit down all the time. Lots of people are ambitious not to move if they can help it."
He looked at her a little uncertainly, then went on: "So it keeps me studying hard, to fit myself for the future. I hope to be reelected superintendent in Littleburg again next year,--this is my first term-- there is so much time to study, in Littleburg. After next year, I'll try for something bigger; just keep working my way up and up--"
He had not meant to tell her about himself, but Fran's manner of lifting her head to look at him, as he finished each phrase, had beguiled him to the next. The applause in her eyes warmed his heart.
"You see," said Abbott with a deprecatory smile, "I want to make myself felt in the world."
Fran's eyes shone with an unspoken "Hurrah!" and as he met her gaze, he felt a thrill of pleasure from the impression that he was what she wanted him to be.
Fran allowed his soul to bathe a while in divine eye-beams of flattering approval, then gave him a little sting to bring him to life. "You are pretty old, not to be married," she remarked. "I hope you won't find some woman to put an end to your high intentions, but men generally do. Men fall in love, and when they finally pull themselves out, they've lost sight of the shore they were headed for."
A slight color stole to Abbott's face. In fact, he was rather hard hit. This wandering child was no doubt a witch. He looked in the direction of the tent, as if to escape the weaving of her magic. But he only said, "That sounds--er--practical."
"Yes," said Fran, wondering who "the woman" was, "if you can't be practical, there's no use to be. Well, I can see you now, at the head of some university--you'll make it, because you're so much like me. Why, when they first began teaching me to feed--Good gracious! What am I talking about?" She hurried on, as if to cover her confusion. "But I haven't got as far in books as you have, so I'm not religious."
"Books aren't religion," he remonstrated, then added with unnecessary gentleness, "Little Nonpareil! What an idea!"
"Yes, books are," retorted Fran, shaking back her hair, swinging her foot, and twisting her body impatiently. "That's the only kind of religion I know anything about--just books, just doctrines; what you ought to believe and how you ought to act--all nicely printed and bound between covers. Did you ever meet any religion outside of a book, moving up and down, going about in the open?"
He answered in perfect confidence, "Mr. Gregory lives his religion daily--the kind that helps people, that makes the unfortunate happy."
Fran was not hopeful. "Well, I've come all the way from New York to see him. I hope he can make me happy. I'm certainly unfortunate enough. I've got all the elements he needs to work on."
"From New York!" He considered the delicate form, the youthful face, and whistled. "Will you please tell me where your home is, Nonpareil?"
She waved her arm inclusively. "America. I wish it were concentrated in some spot, but it's just spread out thin under the Stars and Stripes. My country's about all I have." She broke off with a catch in her voice--she tried to laugh, but