Putnam patriot., 1913-04-11
 than he cared tn xhnw

Gregory. He's the richest man in the county. yet lives so simply. so fru- gally-they keep few servants-and all because he wants to do good with his money. think Mir. 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, l mean; I have the ambition to hold. one day, chair at Yale or Harvard-that means to teach fn a university" he broke of. in explana- ton.
 You sec" with a deprecatory smile, "l want to make myself felt in the world"
 Trans eyes shone with an unspoken "Hurrah!" and as he met her gaze. he | felt thrill of pleasure from the i'm pression that he was what she want ed him to be.
 Fran allowed his soul to bathe a while in divine eye-beams of fattering approval, then gave him a little sting 1 to bring him to life. You are pretty old, not to be married" she remarked. T 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 them selves 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 witch. He looked in the direction of the tent, 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, can see you now. at the head of some university-you1l make it, be- cause 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 remon- strated. then added with unnecessary gentleness, Little Nonpareil! What an ideal"
 "Yes, books are," retorted Fran, shaking back her hair, swinging her foot, and twisting her body inpatient ly. That's the only kind of religion I know anything about-just books, just doctrines; what you ought to be- lieve and how you ought to act--all nicely printed and bound between cov- CTS. Did you ever meet any religion outside of book. moving up and down, going about In the open?" He answered in perfect confidence, MT. 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 1t were concentrat- ed in some spot, but it's just spread out thin under the Stars and Stripes. i My country's about all I have" She broke off with a catch in her voice she tried to laugh, but 1t was no use.
 Suddenly 1t came to Abbott Ashton that he understood the language of moon, watching woods, meadow-lands, even the gathering rain-clouds; all spoke of the universal brotherhood of man with nature; brotherhood in cluding the most ambitious superin- tendent of schools and a homeless Nonpareil; brotherhood to be con frmed by the clasping of sincere hands. There was danger in such a confirmation, for 1t carried Abbott be- yond the limits that mark a superin- tendent's confines.
 As he stood on the bridge, holding Fran's hand in a warm and sympa- thetic pressure, he was not unlike one on picket-service who slips over the trenches to hold friendly barley with the enemy. Abbott did not know there was any danger in this brotherly handclasp; but that was because he could not see fieshy and elderly lady slowly coming down the hill. As su- perintendent he should doubtless have considered his responsibilities to the public; he did consider them when the lady, breathless and severe, ap- preached the bridge, while every pound of her ample form cast it's weight upon the seal of her disapprov- ing, low-voiced and significant, Good evening, Professor Ashton
 Fran whistled.
 The lady heard, but she swept on without once glancing back. There was in her none of that saline ten- dency that made of Lot a widower; 1; the lady desired to see no more.
 Fran opened her eyes at Abbott to their widest extent, as she demurely asked. How cold is it? My ther- mometer is frozen"
 The young man did not betray un- easiness, though he was really alarmed, for his knowledge of the fieshy lady enabled him to foresee gathering clouds more sinister than those overhead. The obvious thing to be done was to release the slender, hand; he did so rather hastily.
 Have got you into trouble?" Fran asked. with her elfish laugh "If so. we'll be neighbors. for that's where live. Who was she?"
 Miss Sapphira Clinton" he an- swered as, by common impulse, they, began walking toward Hamilton Greg ory's house. Bob Clinton's sister,