The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1913-09-26

bul IL were, mother WOuldn De mere
To enjoy it. Won't you tell Professor
Ashton that you are sorry?"
Fran" Abbott began.
Fran made a mouth at him. 81 don't
belong to your school any MORE" she
informed him. Mr.. School Director
can tell you the name of what he can
do to me; he'll find 1t classified under
the E's.''
After this explosion, she turned
again to the lad: 81 saw you punch
that boy, Jakey. and l heard you say
you didn't, and yet it was good
punch. What made you deny it?
Punches aren't bad ideas. If ! could
strike out like you did, I'd wait till I
saw a man bullying a weaker one. and
I'd stand up to him" Fran leaped
impulsively to her feet, and doubled
her ARMAND I'd let her land! Punch
ing's a good thing, and, oh, how it's
needed. Except at school-you
mustn't do anything human here, you
must be an oyster at school"
"Aw-right," said Jakey, with glim-
mering of comprehension. He seemed
coming to life, as if sap were trucking
from winter-congealment.
Bob Clinton, too, felt the fresh
breeze or early spring in his face. He
removed his spectacles
"The first thing l knew" Fran said,
resuming her private conversation
with Jakey, 81 had a mother, but no ia
ther-not that he was dead, oh, bless
you, he was alive enough-but before
my birth he deserted mother. Uncle
turned US out of the house. Did we
starve, that deserted mother and her
little baby? l don't look starved, do I?
Pshaw! If woman without cent to
her name. and ten pounds in her arms
can make good, what about big
strong boy like you with a mother to
smile every time he hits the mark
Tell these gentlemen you're sorry for
punching that boy"
'Sorr'," muttered Jakey shame
facedly
81 am glad to hear it," Abbott ex-
claimed heartily. "You can take your
cap to go, Jakey."
'Lemme stay" Jakey pleaded, not
budging an inch.
Fran lifted her face above the
tousled head to look at Abbott; she
sucked in her 3Seeks and made a
triumphant oval of her mouth. Then
she seemed to forget the young mans
presence.
"But when mother died, real trouble
began. 1t was always hard work, while
she lived, but hard work isn't trouble,
la, no, troubles just an empty heart!
Well sir, when l read about how good
Mr.. Hamilton Gregory is, and how
much he gives away-to folks he new
er sees-here I came. But 1 don't
seem to belong to anybody, Jakey, I'm
outside of everything. But you have
a home and a mother, Jakey, and a
place in the world, so / say 'Hurrah!'
h"eause you belong to somebody, and,
best of all, you're not girl, but a boy
to strike out straight from the Shout
der
Jakey was dissolved; tears burst
their confines.
One may shout oneself hoarse at the
delivery of a speech which, if served
upon printed page, would never prompt
the reader to cast his hat to the cell
ing. No mere print under bold head
lines did Abbott read, but rather the
changing lights and shadows in great
black eyes. 1t was marvellous how
Fran could project past experiences
upon the screen of the listeners per-
ception. At her, when mother died.
Abbott saw the girl weeping beside
the death-bed. When she sighed, 81
don't belong to anybody" the school
director felt like crying: Then be-
long to met"
Fran now completed her work. She
rose from the immovable Jakey and
came over to Abbott Ashton, with
meekly folded hands
He found the magic Of the moon
light-hour returning. She had mel
lowed - glowed acknowledgements
ized-Abbott could not find the word
for it. She quivered with an exquisite
ness not to be defined-a something
in hair, or flesh, or glory of eye, or
softness of lips, altogether lacking in
his physical being, but eagerly desired
Professor Ashton" she spoke seri
ously, 81 have been horrid. l might
have known that school is merely a
place where young people crawl into