The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1913-12-04

lngly hard-f6atured man, or no f0cOS-
nizable age Externally, he was blue
overalls and greasy tar.
Abbott grasped Bills hand, and in
quired about business.
Awful pore, sense Fran lef the
show" was the answer, accompanied
by a grin that threatened to cut the
weather-beaten face wide open.
Fran beamed "Mr. Smookins knew
my mother-didn't you, Bill? He was
awful good to me when / was a kid.
Mr.. Smookins was Human Nymph in
those days, and he smoked and talked,
he did, right down under the water
remember, Bill? That was sure-enough
water-oh, he's a sure-enough Bill. let
me tell you'll"
Bill intimated, as he slowed down
the engine, that the rheumatism he
had acquired under the water, was
sure-encugh Observation-Disclosures his
change Of occupation. 81 was strong
enough to be a Human Nympk,' he
explained, "but not endurable. Nobody
can't last many years as Human
Nymph."
Abbott indicated his companion
Here's one that'll last my time"
The wheel stopped. He and Fran
were barred into seat.
And now," Fran exclaimed, cts all
ups and downs, just like a moving pic
ture of life. Why don't you say some.
thing, Mr.. Ashton? But no, you can
keep still-Im excited to death, and
wouldn't hear you anyway. | want to
do all the talking / always do, after
I've been in the cage. My brain is
filled with air-so this is the time to
be soaring up into the sky, isn't it!
What is your brain filled with but
never mind. Well be just two bal
loons-my! aren't you glad we haven't
any strings on us--suppose soma peo-
pie had hold!-I, for one, would be
willing never to &C down again. Where
few. See how I'm trembling
ways do, after the lions. Now, Abbott,
I'll ieave small opening for just one
word"
I'll steady you" sid Abbott, brief
ly, and he took her hand She did not
appear conscious Of his protecting
clasp.
Il never see the moon SO big" she
went on, breathlessly, without think
ing OF that night when it rolled along
the pasture as if it wanted to knock
us off the foot-bridge for being where
we oughtn't. | never could understand
why you should stay on that bridge
with a perfect stranger, when your
duty was to be usher at the camp-meet-
ing! You weren't ushering me, you
know, you were holding my hand-I
mean, / was holding your hand, as
Miss Sapphire says | shouldn't What
a poor helpless man-as I'm holding
you now, | presume! But I laughed in
meeting People ought TO go outdoors
to smile, and keep their religion in
house, I guess. I'm going to tell you
why l laughed, for you've never
guessed, and you've always been
afraid to ask
Afraid of you, Franz"
"Awfully, I'm going to show you
let go, so l can show yoJ.. No, I'm in
earnest-you can have me, afterwards.
Remember that evangelist?
There he stood, waving his hands-as
I'm doing now-moving his arms with
his eyes fastened upon the congrega-
'tiou-this way--look, Abbott"
Fran. AS if l were not already
looking"
"Look-just so; not saying a word
only waving this way and that
And it made me thing of our hypno-
tiz@-the man that waves people into
our biggest tent-he seems to pick 'em
up bodily and carry them in his arms.
Well! And if the people are to be
waved into a church, it won't take
much of a breeze to blow them out.
l don't believe in soul-waving. But
that doesn't mean that l don't believe
in the church-does it?-do you
Think
"You believe in convictions, Fran.
And since you've come into the church.
you don't have to say that you believe
in it."
"Yes-there's nothing on the out
side, and oh, sometimes there's so
little, so little under the roof-what
do you think of me, Abbott?''
Fran, l think you are the most
But do you'll" she interposed, still