Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1913-01-30
c..,,ara< rsla, The Bohh>Nerrll Company
CHAPTER III (Continued).

or accentuate--at any rate, the effect
was somewhat elfish. AS for those
great and LUMINOSITY soft black eyes,
he could not for the life Of him have
said what he saw in them to set his
blood tingling with feeling of protect
ing tenderness Possibly it was her
trust in him, for as he gazed into the
earnest eyes Of Fran, it was like look
ing into clear pool to see oneself.
"Nobody's little girl?" he repeated,
inexpressibly touched that it should
be so. What a treasure somebody was
denied! "Are you stranger in the
town."
Never been here before" Fran
answered mournfully.
But why did you Gomez"
81 came to find Hamilton Gregory.
The young man was astonished.
Didn't you see him in the tent. lead
ing the choir?"
"He has a house in town." Fran said
timidly. '1 don't want to bother him
while he is in his religion. want to
wait for him at his house. Oh she
added earnestly, III you would only
show me the way"
Just as if she did not know the way!
Abbott Ashton was now completely
at her mercy. $50 you know Brother
Gregory, do you?" he asked as he led
her over the stiles and down the
wagon-road.
Never saw him In my life," Fran
replied casually. She knew how to say
it prohibitively, but she purposely left
the bars down, to find out If the young
man WAS what abe hODed
And he was. He did not ask ques-
ton. They sought the grass-grown
path bordering the dusty road; as
they assembled the hill that shut out
a view of the village, to their ears
came the sprightly Twentieth Century
hymn. What change had come over
Ashton that the song now seemed as
strangely out of keeping as had the
.peacefulness of the April night, when
he first left the tent? He felt the prick
Of remorse because in the midst Of ma
ture, he had SO soon forgotten about
souls.
Fran caught the air and softly sang
I'VE reap what we SOW
DON'T" he reproved her. Child,
that means nothing to YOU
Eyes, it does, too" she returned,
rather impudently. She continued to
sing and hum until the last note was
smothered in her little nose. Then
she spoke: "However-it means diff
ferent thing to ME from what 1t means
to the choir" ~.
He looked at her curiously. How
different?" he smiled.
ITO me, it means that we really do
reap what we SOW. and that II we've
done something very wrong IN the
past-ugh! Better look out-trouble's
coming. That's what the song means
to me-"
and will you kindly tell me what it
means to the choir?'
Eyes, I'll tell you what it means to
the choir It means sitting on benches
and singing, after sermon; and 1t
means a tent. and great evangelist
and celebrated soloist-and then go
ing home to act as II it wasn't So
Abbott was not only astonished. but
panied. Suddenly he had lost mo
body's little girl" to be confronted by
an elfish spirit Of mischief. He asked
with constraint, did this critical at
titude make you laugh out, in the
tent"
81 wouldn't tell you why laughed
Fran declared, "for a thousand dol
lars. And I've seen more than that in
my day"
They walked on. He was silent, she
At last she said, In
changed voice. "My names Fran.
What's yours?"
He laughed boyishly. mines Alb
bott."
His manner made her laugh sympa-
thetically. It was just the manner she
liked best-gay. frank, and little
mischievous. "Abbott?' she repeated;
"well-is that all?'
ashton is the balance; Abbott
Ashton. And yours?"
"The rest Of mine is Nonpareil-
funny name. isn't it!-Fran Nonpareil.
It means Fran. the small type; or
Fran who's unlike everybody else; or
oh. there are lots Of meanings to
me- Some find one, some another,
some never understand
It was because Abbott Ashton was
touched. that he spoke lightly:
what very young Nonpareil to
be wandering about the world, all by
.
She was grateful for his raillery.
How young do you think?"
LET me see. Hum! You are only
about" She laughed mirthfully at
his air OF preposterous wisdom.
About thirteen-fourteen, yes, you
are more than Fifteen. more than
But take off that enormous
hat, little Nonpareil There's no use
guessing in the dark when the moons
Fran was gleeful. "All right" she
cried in one Of her childish tones,
,hrill, fresh, vibratory with the music
Of innocence.
BY this time they had reached the
Ioot-bridge that spanned the deep ra-
Vine Here the wagon road made its
crossing of tiny stream, by slipping
lnder the foot-bridge, some fifteen
'eet below. Down there, all was semi
gloom, pungent fragrance Of weeds,
cooling breath of the half-dried brook,
mystery of space between steep
banks. But on level with the bridge,
neadowlands sloped away from the
ravine on either hand. On the left lay
Littleburg with its four or
i've hundred houses, family twinkling.
ind beyond the meadows on the right.