Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1913-11-21

on, OF even the stake pile-there you'd
see me studying away for dear life,
dressed in a plain little dress, trying
to look like ordinary folks. Such a
queer little chap. I was-and always
trying to pretend that | wasn'tl
You'd have laughed to see me-"
Laughed at you'll" cried Abbott in.
dignantly. Indeed l shouldn't"
Nor exclaimed Fran, patting his
arm impulsively.
Dear little wonderi" he returned
conclusively.
Il must tell you about one time," she
continued gaily. I'VE were In New
Orleans at the Mardi Gras, and l was
expected to come into the ring riding
Samson-not the vicious old lion, but
cubrthat was long after my days OF
the drum and the red coat, bless you'll
l was a l~ion-tamer, now, nearly thir.
teen years old. If you'll believe me.
Well! And what was / saying-you
keep looking sc friendly. you make me
forget myself. Goodness. Abbott, it's
so much fun talking to you .
I've never mentioned all this to one
soul In this town Well-oh,
yes; / was to have come into the ring,
riding Samson. Everybody was wait.
ing for me. The band nearly blew it.
self black In the face. And what do
you think was the matter?"
did Samson balk?"
mo, 1t wasn't that. | was lying on
the cage floor. with my head on Sam
son-Samson the Second made such a
gorgeous and animated pillowi-and l
was learning geology. I'd just found
out that the world wasn't made in sew
en- United States days, and it was
such surprising news that I'd forgot
ten all about cages and lions and tents
If you could have seen me lying
there-if you just could"
"But l cant" Abbott declared.
"Your long black hair Is mingled with
his tawny name, and your cheeks are
blooming"
"And my feet are crossed" cried
Fran.
And your feet are crossed; and
those little hands hold up the book"
Abbott swiftly sketched in the details;
and your bosom Is rising and falling,
and your lips are parted-like now
showing perfect teeth"
dressed in my tights and fluffy lace
and Jewels" Fran helped, with bare
arms and stars all in my hair . .
But the end came to everything when
when mother died. Her last words
were about my father-how she hoped
some day I'd meet him, and tell him
she had forgiven. Mother sent me to
her half-uncle. Myi but that was
mighty unpleasant" Fran shook her
head vigorously. HE began telling
me about how mother had done wrong
in marrying secretly. and he threw 1t
up to me and | just told him E.
But he's dead, now. l had to go back
to the show-there wasn't any other
place. But a few months ago l was of
age, and came into Uncle Ephraim's
property, because I was the only liv-
ing relation he had, so he couldn't help
my getting 1t. I'll bet he's mad, now,
that he didn't make a Wilt When he
aaid that mntherlt don't matter what
he said-I just walked out of his door,
that time, with my head up high like
this oh, goodness, we're here"
They stood before Hamilton Greg
orB's silent house.
Rood night" Fran said hastily. Its
a mistake to begin a long story on a
short road. My! But wasn't that a
shbrt road, thought"
t.Sometime. you shall finish that
story, Fran. | know of a road much
longer than the one we've taken-we
might try it some day, If you say So"
II do say SO. What road is it?"
Abbott had spoken of a long road
without definite purpose, yet there was
a glimmering perception of the reality,
as he showed by saying TREMENDOUSLY:
This is the beginning of it."
He bent down. as If to take her In
his arms.
But Fran drew back, perhaps with a
blush that the darkness concealed, GER
tainly with a little laugh. I'm afraid
ia get lost on that road" she MUIR
INJURED, for l don't believe you know
the way very well, yourself"
She sped lightly to the house, UNI
locked the door, and vanished.
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