Oklahoma Labor Unit (Oklahoma City, Okla.), Vol. 5, No. 46, Ed. 1 Saturday, May 3, 1913 Page: 4 of 4
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'"••'FRAN
■^t\
s y nops
BY
JOHN BRECKENRIDGE ELLIS
DX1TSTBATIONS BV
IRWIN -MYEBS
"I have no doubt." he Bald, still agi-
tated. "that my wife would And it easy
enough to go to church, if she really
wanted to go."
"Mr Gregory!" she reproved him.
"Well," he cried, somewhat defiant-
ly, don't you think she could go, If
she wanted to?"
"Well," Grace answered slowly,
"this girl will leave her without any
,*v?v...
\ -
(COPVCIGHT 1912
POSBS-dEPSILlCO.)
CHAPTl I! VI Ki
cm y h w h, allicttn
likliiK to her.
CHAPTKR VII
PTKK VII—Or**gorr explains tli
In the da light' « r a \ . r \ «!•
lory Mr* On-gory lr
ute her home with iin r
ifr .triiif The brent h
• rai * widen*.
ti at
CHAPTKR VIII It H I-
Fran rntiHt n>> to whool lirare * now* i
in*r.wIkt • iit |nt«T«* t In Or-Krtry* -tor. of
i.Ih dead friend and hints that I ' n may
h- an linpont« r Bhe threaten* to m ury
Itoh <'Hilton mid leave <;reg. r\H s-rvl.e.
much to the latter'* dlmn i I ran de-
clares that the necretary muit go
8he did t.ot care to mingle with the
people of the village—which was for-
tunate. since her laughing in the tent
had scandalised the neighborhood. sho
would have been content never to
cross the boundaries of the homestead,
had It not been for Abbott Ashton.
I It was because of him that she acqui-
esced in the general plan to send her
to school It was on the fifth day of
her stay, following her startling adinls
1 rtlon that Bhe had never been to school
' u day in her life, that unanimous opln-
i loo was fused into expressed com-
i mand—
k "You must go to school!"
" Fran thought of the young superin-
tendent, and said she was willing
When Mr. Gregory and the secretary
had retired to the library for the day •
work. Mrs. Gregory told Fran, "1 real-
ly think, dear, that your dresses are
much too short. You are small, but
your face and manners and even your
voice, sometimes, seem old quite
old."
Fran showed the gentle lady a soft
docility. "Well," she aaid, "my legs
are there, all the time, you know, and
I'll Bhow Just as much of them, or
Just as little, as yon please."
Simon Jefferson spoke up—"1 like
to see children wear short dresses—"
and he looked at this particular child
with approval. That day. she was
really pretty. The triangle had been
broadened to an oval brow, the chin
«vbb held slightly lowered, and there
was something in her general aspect,
possibly due to the arrangement of
folds or colors—heaven knows what,
for Simon Jefferson was but a poor
male observer—that made a merit of
her very thinness The weak heart ot
the burly bachelor tingled with pleas-
ure in nice proportions, while his mind
attained the esthetic outlook of a clas-
sic age. To be sure, the skirts did
show a good deal of Fran; very good—
they could not Bhow too much
"I like," Simon persisted, "to see
young girls of fourteen or fifteen,
dressed, so to say, in low necks and
bow colors ll seemed to her that of
sll the peopls In the world. Mrs Greg
ory w sb the last to hold her In affoo-
tlonate embrace. She cri*d out with a
sob. as If in answer to her dark mis
livings- "Oh, but I want to beloug to
somebody!"
• You shall belong to nil!" ex.
claimed Mrs Gregory, folding her
closer
"To you?" Fran sobbed overcome
by tho wouder of It "To you. dear
heart?" With a desperate effort sh«
crowded back intruding thoughts, snd
grew calm Looking over her shoul-
der at Simon Jefferson—"No more
short dresBes, Mr. Simon." she called,
"you know your heart mustn't be ex
ctted."
"Fran!" gasped Mrs. Gregory In dis-
may. "hush!"
Hut Simon Jefferson beamed with
pleasure at the girl's artless wsys. He
knew what was bad for his heart, and
Fran wasn't Her smiles made him
feel himself a monopolist In sunshine.
forty-three Maybe she isu Would
you call her conduct sad"*
Gregory took exquisite pleasure in
arguing with Grace, because her se-
rene assumption of being in the right
gave to her beautiful face a touch of
the angelic. "I should call It impos-
sible."
"Impossible? Do you think it's Im-
possible that Fran's deceiving you?
How can you know tha* she is tAe any excuse
daughter of your friend*" 40h, Miss Grace, if ray wife were
He gr^w j(Uf oh. if he could have only—like you—I mean, about going
denied Fran—if he could have joined to church'"
(Jrace In declaring her an impostor! "I consider it." she responded, "the
Hut f>he jiosh *ssed proofs bo irrefutable most important thing in the world."
that safety lay in admitting her claim, Her emphatic tone proved her sin-
lest sh - nrove more than he had al- cerity The church on Walnut street
ready admitted "1 know it. absolute- stood, for her as the ark; those who
lv She is the daughter of one who remained outside, at the call of the
was my most.—my most InniuaU bell, were in danger of engulfment.
frlpn(J.. After a long silence, Grace looked
Grace repeated with delicate re- UP from her typewriter. "Mr. Greg-
proof—"Your Intimate friend!" © 7.M ,he 8al* pauslngly, "you are un-
"1 know it was wrong for him to de- happy.'
sert Itis wlfs." Nothing could have been sweeter to
' Wrong' • How Inadequate seemed him than her sympathy except happl-
thst word from her pure lips! Itself "Yes," he admitted, with
"Hut," he faltered, "we must make * great sigh, "I am very unhappy, but
Doesn't
"Love Him? This Is Merely a Ques-
tion of Doing the Most Good."
Simon Jefferson might be fifty, but he
still had a nose for roses.
Old Mrs. Jefferson was present, and
from her wheel-chair bright eyes read
much that dull ears missed "How
gay Simon is!" smiled the mother—he
was always her spoiled boy.
Mrs. Gregory called through the
trumpet, "I believe Fran 'has given
brother a fresh interest in life."
Old Mrs. Jefferson beamed upon
Fran and added her commendation:
"She pushes me when I want to be
pushed, and pulls me when 1 want to
be pulled."
Fran clapped her hands like a child,
indeed. "Oh, What a gay old world!"
she cried. "There are so many people
in it that like me." She danced before
the old lady, then wheeled about with
allowances My friend married Frau's
mother in secret because she was ut-
terly worldly—frivolous—a butterfly.
Her own uncle was unable to control
her—to make her go to church. Soon
after the marriage h« found out hla
mistake—It broke his heart, tne tra^
edy of It. I don't excuse him for go-
ing away to Europe—"
"I am glad you don't. He was no
true man, but a weakling I am glad
I have never been throwu with auch
a—a degenerate."
"Hut, Miss Grace." he urged plead
ingly, do you think ray friend, when
he went back to And her and she was
gone—do you think he should have
kept on hunting? Do you think, Grace,
that he should have remained yoked
to an unbeliever, after he realized his
folly?"
There was heavenly compassion in
her eyes, for suddenly she had di-
vined his purpose in defending Fran's
father. He was thinking of his own
wife, and of his wife's mother and
brother—how they had ceased to show
sympathy In what he regarded as the
essentials of life. Her silence suggest-
ed that as she could not speak without
casting reflection upon Mrs. Gregory,
she would say nothing, and this tact
was grateful to his grieved heart.
"I have been thinking of something
very Btrange," Grace said, with a
marked effort to avoid the issue lest
she commit the indiscretion of blam-
ing her employer's wife. "I remem-
ber having heard you say that when
you were a young man, you left your
father's home to live with a cousin In
a distant town who happened to be a
teacher in a college, and that you were
^'raduated from his college. Don't you
think it marvelous, this claim of Fran,
who says that her father, when a
young man, went to live with a cousin
who was a college professor, and that
he was graduated from that college?
And she says that her father's father
was a rich man—just as yonrs was—
nnd that the cousin is dead—just as
yours is."
At these piercing words, Gregory
bowed his head to conceal his agita-
tion. Could it be possible that she
had guessed all and yet, in spite of all,
could use that tone of kindness? It
burst upon him that if he and she
could hold this fatal secret in common,
they might, In sweetest comradeship,
form an alliance against fate itself.
She persisted: "The account that
Fran gives of her father is really your
own history. What does that show?"
He spoke almost in a whisper. "My
friend and I were much alike." Then
such energy that her skirts threat- he iOGked up swiftly to catch a look
of comprehension by surprise, if such
a look were there.
Grace smiled coolly. "But hardly
Identical, I presume. Don't you see
that Fran has invented her whole
story, and that she didn't have enough
Imagination to keep from copying
after your biographical sketch in the
newspaper? I don't believe she is
your friend's daughter. I don't be-
lieve you could ever have liked the
ened to level to the breeze.
"Don't, don't!" cried Mrs. Gregory
precipitately. "Fran!"
"Bravo!" shouted Simon Jefferson
"Encore!"
Fran widened her fingers to push
down the rebellious dress. "If I don't
put leads on me." she said with con-
trition, "I'll be floating away. When
1 feel good. 1 always want to do some-
thing wrong—it's awfully dangerous
leases Others, and
Hurt Me."
high stockings in—er—in the airy way
such as they are by nature . . ."
It was hard to express.
"Yes," Fran said impartially. "It
pleases others, and it doesn't hurt
me."
"Fran!" Mrs. Gregory exclaimed,
gaziug helplessly at the girl with
something of a child's awe inspired by
venerable years. It was a pathetic ap-
peal to a spirit altogether beyond her
comprehension
Fran's quick eye caught the expres-
sion of baffled reaching forth, of un-
certain striving after sympathetic un-
for a person to feel good, 1 guess. Mrs. father of a girl like Fran—that he
Gregory, you say I can belong to you could have been your intimate friend."
—when I think about that, I want to "Well—'" faltered Gregory. But why
dance. ... I guess you 'hardly should ho defend Fran?
know what it means for Fran to be- "Mr. Gregory," she asked, as if what
long to a person. You're going to find F^e was about to say belonged to what
out. Come on," she shouted to Mrs. gone before, "would it greatly in-
Jefferson, without using the trumpet— convenience you for me to leave your
always a subtle compliment to those employment?"
nearly stone-deaf, "I mustn't wheel wa8 electrified. "Grace! Incon-
myself about, so I'm going to wheel venienceme!—would you—could . . ."
you." "I have not decided—not yet.
As she passed with her charge into Speaking of being yoked with unhe-
the garden, her mind was busy with llevers—I have never told you that Mr.
thoughts of Grace Noir. Belonging to
Mrs Gregory naturally suggested get-
ting rid of the secretary. It would
be exceedingly difficult. "But two
months ought to settle her," Fran
mused.
In the meantime, Grace Noir and
Gregory sat in the library, silently
turning out an immense amount of
work, feeding the hungry and consol-
Robert Clinton has wanted me to mar-
ry him. As long as he was outside of
the church, of course it was impos-
sible. But now that he is converted—"
"Grace!" groaned the pallid listener.
"He would like me to go with him
to Chicago."
"But you couldn't love Bob Clinton
—he Isn't worthy of you, Grace. It's
Impossible. Heaven knows I've had
you understand me, and that 1b a little
comfort. If you should marry Bob
Clinton—Grace, tell me you'll not
think of It again."
"And you are unhappy," said Grace,
steadfastly ruling Bob Clinton out of
the discussion, on account of Fran."
He burst forth impulsively—"Ever
since she came to town!" He checked
himself. "But 1 owe it to ray friend
to shelter her. She wants to stay and
—and she'll have to. If she demands
It"
"Do you owe more to your dead
friend," Grace asked, with passionate
solemnity, "than to the living God?"
He shrank back. "But I can't send
her away," he persisted in nervous
haste. "I can't. But heaven bless you,
Grace, for your dear thought of me."
"You will bless me with more rea-
son." said Grace softly, "when Fran
decides to go away. She'll tire of this
house—I promise it. She'll go—Just
wait!—she'll go, as unceremoniously
as she came. Leave it to me. Mr. Greg-
ory'-" In her earnestness she started
up, and then, as if to conceal her
growing resolution, she walked swiftly
to the window as if to hold her manu-
script to the light. Gregory followed
her.
"If she would only go!" he groaned.
"Grace! Do you think you could?—
Yes, I will leave everything to you."
"She'll go," Grace repeated fixedly.
The window at (which they stood
overlooked the garden into which Fran
had wheeled old Mrs. Jefferson.
Fran, speaking through the ear-
trumpet with as much caution as deaf-
ness would tolerate, said, "Dea* old
lady, look up at the library window.
if you please, for the muezzin has
climbed his minaret to call to prayers."
Very little of this reached Its desti-
nation—muezzin was in great danger
of complicating matters, but the old
lady caught "library w indow," and held
it securely. She looked up. Ham-
ilton Gregory and Grace Noir were
standing' at the tower window, to
catch the last rays of the sun. The
flag of truce between them was only
a typewritten sheet of manuscript.
Grace held the paper obliquely toward
the west; Hamilton leaned nearer and,
with his delicate white finger, pointed
out a word. Grace nodded her head
in gentle acquiescence.
"Amen," muttered Fran. "Now let
everybody sing!"
The choir leader and his secretary
vanished from sight.
"Just like the play In Hamlet," Fran
said half-aloud. "And now that the
inside play is over, I guess it's time
for old Ham to be doing something."
Mrs. Jefferson gripped the arms of
her wheel-chair and resumed her tale,
as if she had not been interrupted. It
was of no interest as a story, yet pos-
sessed a sentimental value from the
fact that all the characters save the
raconteur were dead, and possibly all
but her forgotten. Fran loved to hear
the old lady evoke the shades of long
ago, shades who would never again
assume even the palest manifestation
to mortals, when this old lady had
gone to join them.
Usually Fran brought her back.
with gentle hand, but today she di-
vined subterfuge; the tale was meant
to hide Mrs. Jefferson's real feelings
Fran ventured through the trumpet:
"I wish there was a man-secretary
on this place, instead of a woman.
And let me tell you one thing, dear
old solder—there's going to be a fight
put up on these grounds. 1 guess you
ought to stay out of it. But either
I or the secretary has got to git."
Fran was not unmindful of gram-
mar, even of rhetoric, on occasion.
She knew there was no such word as
"git," but she was seeking to symbol- ,
lze her idea in sound. As she closed
serve tne occasional ouggies that
creaked along the rutted road With
Grace stood, of course, Hamilton Greg-
ory and. judging from Hob Clinton'si
regular .: its, and his particular atten-
tions to Gi ace. Fran classed him also'
as a victim of the enemy. It now
seemed that Abbott Ashton followed'
the flag Noir; and behind these three-
leaders, massed the congregation of
Walnut Street chuirh, and presumably'
the town of Littleburg.
Fran could count for her support an)
old bachelor with a weak heart, and an
old lady with an ear-trumpet. The odds-
were terribly against her.
The first light skirmish betweeiu
Fran and Grace took place on Sunday.
All the Gregory household were at
late breakfast Sunday-school bella
were ringing their first call, and there
was not a cloud In the heavens an big
as a man's hand, to furnish excuse for
non-attendance
The secretary fired the first shot.
"Bring on Your Dragon.," Sh« Said Apropos of nothing that had gone bfr
Boastfully. 'ore. but as if it were an Integral part
of the conversation, Bhe offered "And,
Bay 'Git'—and she'll—" Fran waved Mrs Gregory, it is bo nice that you
her dragon to annihilation. can go to church now, since, if Fran,
"GoodnesB," the old lady exclaimed, j doesn't want to go, herself ^
getting nothing of this except the pan- "Which she doesn t, herself,
tomlme; that, however, was eloquent, interjected.
She recalled the picture of David in "So I presumed." Grace remarked
her girlhood's Sunday-school book Bignificantly. "Mrs. Gregory, Fran
Fran
Are you defying the Man of Gath?" j can stay with your mother since she
she broke into a delicious *mi1p whi^h doesn't care for church and you can
seemed to flood the wrinkles of her attend services as you did when I first
face with the sunshine of many dear came to Littleburg."
old easy-going years. "I am sure," Mrs. Gregory said qui-
Fran smote her forehead. "I have etly. "that it would be much better
a few pebbles here," Bhe called for Fran to go to church. She ought
through the trumpet. to go—1 don't like to think of her stay-
Mrs. Jefferson grasped the other's jng away from the services—and my
thin arm, and said, with zestful ener- ( duty is with mother."
gy, "Let her have 'em, David, let her
have 'em!"
CHAPTER IX.
Skirmishing.
Fran made no delay in planning her
campaign against Grace Noir. Now
that her position in Hamilton Greg-
ory's household was assured, she re-
solved to seek support from Abbott
Ashton. That Is why, one afternoon,
Abbott met her In the lower hall of
the public school, after the other pu-
pils had gone, and supposed he was
meeting her by accident.
"Good evening, Nonpareil," he said,
pleased that her name should have
come to him at once. His attentive
look found her different from the night
of their meeting; she had lost her elf-
ish smile and with It the romance of
the unknown and unexpected. Was It
because, at half-past firjr, one's charm
Is at lowest ebb? The janitor was
sweeping down the hall stairs. The
very air was filled with dusty realism
—Fran was no longer pretty; he had
thought—
"Then you haven't forgotten me,"
murmured Fran.
"No," he answered, proud of the j
fact. "You have made your home '
with Mr. Gregory. You are in Miss j
Bull's class-room. I knew Mr. Gregory |
would befriend you—he's one of the
best men living. You should be very !
happy there."
"No." said Fran, shaking her head
decidedly, "not happy."
He was rather glad the janitor was
sweeping them out of the house. "You 1
must find It pretty hard," he remarked. I
with covert reproach, "to keep from |
being happy."
"It isn't at all hard for me." Fran
assured him, as she paused on the
front steps. "Really, it's easy to be
unhappy where Miss Grace Noir is."
It happened that just then the name
Grace Noir was a sort of talisman
opening to the young man's vision the
interior of wonderful treasure-caves;
Grace said nothing, but the expres-
sion of her mouth seemed to cry aloud.
Duty, indeed! What did Mrs. Gregory
know about duty, neglecting the God
who had made her, to stay with an old
lady who ought to be wheeled to
church! Mrs. Gregory was willing for
her husband to fight his Christian
warfare alone. But alone? No! not
while Grace could go with him.
Gregory coldly addressed Fran:
"Then, will you go to church?" It
was as if he complained, "Since my
wife won't—"
"I might laugh," said Fran. "I don't
understand religion."
Grace felt her purest Ideals insulted.
She rose, a little pale, but without
A
"Will You Please Excuse Mer She
Asked With Acfmirable Restraint.
"Will you please excuse"
asked with admirable re-
rudeness.
me?" she
stralnt.
"Miss Grace!" Hamilton Gregory ex-
claimed, disturbed. That she should
be driven from his table by an insult
It was like crying Sesame to the to their religion was intolerable. "Miss
very rocks, for though he was not Grace—forgive her"
in love with Gregory's secretary, ho Mra Gref!ory wa8 paIe> for too,
fancied the day of fate was not far hnd felt the blow ..Fran,.. gh6 ex_
ahead.
He had no time to seek fair and ro-
mantic ladies. Five years ago, Grace
ing the weak with stroke of pen and disappointments enough—" He start-
derstanding. "You darling lady' she (click of typewriter. -'d up and came toward her. his eyes
cried, clasping her handH to keep her I "About this case, number one hun- glowing. "Will you make my life a
arms from flying about the other's dred forty-three," Grace said, looking complete failure, after all?"
neck, "don't you be troubled about me.
Bless your heart, I can take care of
myself—and you. too! Do you think
I'd add a straw to your . . . Now
you hear me If you want to do It, just
put me in long trains with Pullman
sleepers, for I'll do whatever you say.
If you want to show people how fame
I am, just hold up your hand, and I'll
crawl Into my cage "
The laughter of Mrs. Gregory sound-
ed wholesome and deep-throated—the
child was so deliclously ridiculous.
"Come, then," she cried, with a light-
ness she had not felt for months,
"come, crawl Into your cage!" And
she opened her arms.
up from her work as copyist, "the Love him*" Grace repeated calmly,
girl whose father wouldn't acknowl- "This is merely a question of doing
edge her . . ."
Write to the matron to give her
good clothing and good schooling." He
Hpoke softly. There prevailed an at-
mosphere of subtle teuderness; on
this island—the library—blossomed
love of mankind and devotion to lofty
ideals. These two mariners found
themselves ever surrounded by a sea
of indifference; there was not a sail
in sight. "It is a sad case," he mur-
mured.
"You think number one hundred
forty-three a sad case?" she repeated,
I know nothing about
teach you, Grace,
the most good
love."
"Then let me
let—"
"Shall we not discuss It*" she said
gently. "That 1b best, I think. If I de-
cide to marry Mr. Clinton, I will tell
you even before I tell him. I don't
know what I shall choose as my best
course."
"But. Grace! What could I do—
without—"
"Shall we just agree to say no more
about It?" she softly Interposed. "That
is wisest until my decision is made.
Noir had come from Chicago as if to
spare him the trouble of a search.
Fate seemed to thrust her between !
his eyes and the pages of his text-
books. Abbott never felt so unworthy
as when in her presence; an unerring
instinct seemed to have provided her
with an absolute standard of right and
wrong, and she was so invariably right
that no human affection was worthy of
her unless refined seven times. Within
himself, Abbott discovered dross.
"Try to be a good girl, Fran," he
counseled. "Be good, and your asso-
ciation with Miss Noir will prove the
happiest experience of your life."
"Be good," she returned mockingly,
"and you will be Miss Noir." Then
she twisted her mouth. "She makes
me feel like tearing up things. I don't 1
like her. I hoped you'd be on my
I claimed reproachfully.
Old Mrs. Jefferson stared from the
girl seated at the table to the erect
of the force of physical ejectment.
Behind large spectacle lenses, anj.thlng and anybody. but , can t g0
sparks flashed from Mrs. Jefferson.s that far Well. 1 don't like Miss Noir
eyes. She sniffed battle. But her and Bhe do(.sn.t uke me_,8n.t that
tightly compressed lips showed that
Bhe lacked both Fran's teeth and
declared, following. "I can like most
"Examine yourself," he advised,
"and find out what it is in you that she
doesn't like; then get rid of what you
find."
"Huh!" Frail exclaimed, "I'm going
was aware of Gregory's need of cotton to get rid of her, all righ^."
in straining ears, such as had saved He saw the old elfish smile now
Ulysses from siren voices. The pre w-hen he least wanted to see it, for it
Fran's intrepidity. One steps cau-
tiously at seventy-odd.
Fran comprehended. The old lady
must not let it be suspected that she
tense of observing no danger kept the threatened the secretary, mocked the J>urJ*08^^11 separating herself from her
PHHI always, when possible, building her
With a flash of her lithe body, Fran > next Btep out of the material furnished We were talking about Fran—do you
was in her cage, and, for a time, rest- j i,y her companion. "Btit suppose *he think this a good opportunity for Mrs.
sd there, while the fire in her dark |s an impostor. He says she s not his Gregory to attend services? Fran can
ayes burned tears to all sorts of rail*- daughter, this number one hundred • stay with Mrs. Jefferson."
fine old face uncommonly grim. grave superintendent, and asserted the
"Little girls shouldn't fight." was girl's right to like whom she pleased,
her discreet rejoinder. Then leaning Self-respect and loyalty to Grace hast-
over the wheel, she advanced her ened Abbott's departure, leaving the
snow-white head to the head of coal- spirit of mockery to escape the janl-
black. "Better not stir up dragons." tor's broom as best it might.
Fran threw back her head and Fran escaped, recognizing defeat;
laughed defiantly. "Bring on your buf on her homeward way, she was
dragons." she cried boastfully "There's already preparing herself for the next
not one of 'em I'm afraid of." She move. So intent was she in estimat-
extended one leg and stretched forth ing the forces of both sides, that she
her arm. "I'll say to the Dragon, cave no heed to the watchful faces
'Stand up'—and she'll stand; I'll say j at cottage windows, she did not recog-
'Lie down'—and down she'll lie. I'll uize the infrequent passers-bv. nor ob-
V
:>
secretary, and her eyes kindled with
admiration. Had Fran commanded the
; "dragon" to "stand?"
Simon Jefferson held his head close
to his plate, as If hoping the storm
might pass over his head.
i "Don't go away!" Fran cried, over-
come at sight of Mrs. Gregory's dis-
tress. "Sit down, Miss Noir. Let me
be the one to leave the room, since it
iBn't big enough for both of us." She
darted up, and ran to the head of the
table.
Mrs Gregory buried her face in her
hands.
"Don't you bother about me," Fran
coaxed; "to think of giving you pain,
dear lady! I wouldn't hurt you for
anything in the world, and' the per-
| son who would Isn't worthy of being
touched by my foot," and Fran
ti a i i stamped her foot. "If It'll make vou
He came down the steps gravely. _ . . T,.. . —
her teeth, each little pearl meeting a ..ghe lg my friend .. a mite happier, 111 go to church, and
pearly rival, her "git" had something .Tm a " d dpa[ „ke „ Fran Sunday-school, and prayer meeting.
,_i j «.t in l and the young people's society, and the
Ladles' Aid, and the missionary so-
ciety, and the choir practice, and the
night service and—and—" She darted:
from the room.
Grace looked at Gregory, seeming-
to ask him if, after this outrageous be-
havior. he would suffer Fran to dwell
under his roof. OT course, Mrs. Greg-
ory did not count; Grace made no at-
tempt to understand this woman who,
while seemingly of a yielding nature,,
could show such hardness, such a fixed
husband's spiritual adventures. It.
made Grace feel so sorry for the hus-
band that she quietly resumed her
place at the table.
(To be Continued.>
Sadly Sordid
"I suppose you agree that reform is
necessary?" "Oh. yes," replied the
political boss. "Reformers introduce
a whole lot of legislation that is im-
portant to us practical guys because
of the amount some people are willing
to pay for the privilege of evading it."
4
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Oklahoma Labor Unit (Oklahoma City, Okla.), Vol. 5, No. 46, Ed. 1 Saturday, May 3, 1913, newspaper, May 3, 1913; Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc157146/m1/4/: accessed April 25, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.