Canadian Valley Record (Canton, Okla.), Vol. 9, No. 24, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 6, 1913 Page: 3 of 8
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CANADIAN VALLEY RECORD, CANTON, OKLAHOMA.
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SYNOPSIS.
Fran arrives at Hamilton Gregory's
nome In Llttleburg, but finds Mm absent
conducting the choir at a camp meeting.,
She repairs thither In search of hini.j
laughs during the service and Is asked to'
leave. Abbott Ashton, superintendent or
schools, escorts Fran from the tent. He
tells her Gregory Is a wealthy man.
deeply Interested In charity work, and a
pillar of the church. Ashton becomes
greatly interested in Fran and while tak-
ing leave of her, holds her hand and is
seen by Sapphlra Clinton, sister of Rob-
ert Clinton, chairman of the school board.
Fran tells Gregory she wants a home
with him. Grace Noir, Gregory's private
•ecretary, takes a violent dislike to Fran
and advises her to go away at once.
Fran hints at a twenty-year-old Secret,
and Gregory In agitation asks Grace to
leave the room. Fran, relates the story
of how Gregory married a young girl at
Springfield while attending .college and
then deserted her. Fran Is the child of
that marriage. Gregory had married his
present wife three years before the death
of Fran's mother. Fran takes a liking to
Mrs. Gregory. Gregory explains that
Fran Is the dauglLter of a very dear friend
who Is dead. Fran agrees to the story.
Mrs. Gregory Insists on her making her
home with them and takes her to her
arms. Fran declares the secretary must
go. Grace begins nagging tactics In an
effort to drive Fran from the Gregory
home. Abbott, while taking a walk alone
at midnight, finds Fran on a bridge tell-
ing her fortune by cards. She tells Ab-
bott that she is the famous lion tamer,
Fran Nonpareil. She tired of circus life
and sought a home. Grace tells of see-
ing Fran come home after midnight with
a man. She guesses part of the story
and surprises the rest from Abbott. She
decides to ask Bob Clinton to go to
Springfield to Investigate Fran's story.
Fran enlists Abbott In her battle against
Grace. Fran offers her services to Greg-
ory as secretary during the temporary
absence of Grace. The latter, hearing of
Fran's purpose, returns and interrupts a
touching scene between father and
daughter. Fran goes fishing with Mrs.
Gregory's brother. Abbott, whose reten-
tion as superintendent, is to be decided
that day, finds her sitting alone In a
buggy. He Joins her and is discovered by
Clinton and his sister. Grace tells Greg-
ory she Intends to marry Clinton and quit
his service. He declares that he cannot
continue his work without her. Carried
away by passion, he takes her In his
arms. Fran walks In on them, and de-
clares that Grace must leave the house
at once.
FRAN
BY
m\ John beeckenkidge ellis
ILLUSTRATION S BV
. O • D3W1N * MYERS
1 ^ (copyright 1912
BOBBS-MEPPILLCO.)
quite untouched, resclving to stay In I she won't be bo cool when Mr. Clinton
order to prove herself, and to show j returns from Springfield."
CHAPTER XVI.—Continued.
Gregory beheld the awful secret
quivering upon her lips. The danger
drove him mad. "You devil!" he shout-
ed, rushing upon her.
Fran stood immovable, her ey«s fas-
tened on his. "Don't strike me," she
said tensely, "don't strike me, I warn
you, unless you kill at the first blow."
He staggered back as if her words
possessed physical impact. He shrunk
In a heap In the library chair and
dropped bis head upon his arms. To
prevent Grace from learning the truth,
be could have done almost anything
In that first moment of insane terror;
but he could not strike Fran.
In the meantime, Mrs. Gregory had
been ascending the stairs. They could
hear her now, as she softly moved
along the hall. No one in the library
wished, at that moment, to confront
the wife, and absolute silence reigned
In the apartment. They heard her
pause, when opposite the door, doubt-
less to assure herself that the type-
writer was at work. If she did not
hear the clicking of the keys, she
might conclude Grace was absent, and
enter.
Gregory raised his haggard head
with an air suggesting meditated
flight. Even Grace cowered back in-
stinctively.
8wift as a shadow, Fran darted on
tiptoe to the typewriter, and began
pounding upon it vigorously.
Mrs. Gregory passed on her way,
and when she reached the farther end
of the hall, an old hymn which she
had been humming, broke into audible
words. Fran snatched the sheet from
the typewriter, and bent her head to
listen. The words were soft, full of a
thrilling faith, a dauntless courage—
"Still all my song shall be
Nearer my God to Thee,
Nearer—"
A door closed. She was gone. Greg-
ory dropped his head with a groan.
It seemed to Fran that the voice of
his wife who was not a wife, lingered
In the room. The hymn, no longer
audible, had left behind it a fragrance,
as sometimes lingers the sweet savor
of a prayer, after its "amen" has, as it
were, dropped back into the heart
whence It issued. Fran instinctively
held out both arms toward the direc-
tion of the door just closed, as if she
could see Mrs. Gregory kneeling be-
hind 1L
"Almost," she said, in a solemn un-
dertone, "thou persuadest me to be a
Christian."
Had anyone but Mrs. Gregory been
singing that hymn, had anyone but
Fran been the one to intrude upon the
library *.ene, Grace must have been
overwh«imfed As it was, she stood
Gregory that they must sacrifice their
love for conscience sake.
Gregory, however, was deeply
touched by Fran's yearning arms .He
rose and stood before her. "Fran,
child, we promise that what you saw
shall never happen again. But you
mustn't tell about it. I know you won't
tell. I can't send Grace away, because
I need her. She will not go beeause
she knows herself to be strong. We
are going to hide our souls. And you
can't tell what you've seen, on ac-
count of her—" He pointed In the di-
rection of his wife.
Fran knew very well what he meant.
If she told the secret, it would dis-
grace Mrs. Gregory. The revelation
might drive Grace away, though Fran
did not think so, but certainly whether
Grace went, or stayed, It would break
the heart of the one she loved best in
that home. Gregory was right; Fran
could never betray him.
She turned blindly upon Grace:
'/Then have you no conscience?—you
are always talking about one. Does no
sense of danger warn you away? Can't
you feel any shame?"
Grace did not smile contemptuously.
She weighed these words at their real
value, and soberly interrogated her-
self. ''No," she declared with delib-
eration, "I feel no sense of danger be-
cause I mean to guard myself after
this. And my conscience bids me
stay, to show that I have not really
done anything—" But she could not
deny the feeling of shame, for the
burning of her cheeks proved the
recollection of hot kisses.
"But suppose I tell what I have
seen."
"Well,'' said G ace, flashing out de-
fiantly. "and suppose you do!"
Gregory muttered: "Who would be-
lieve you?"
Fran looked at him. "Then," she
SEfld, "the coward spoke." She added:
"I guess the only way is for you to
make her leave. There's nothing In
her for me to appeal to.1
"I will never tell her to go," he as-
sured her defiantly.
"While, on the contrary," Bald
Grace, "I fancy you will be put to flight
in three or four days."
Fran threw back her head and
laughed silently while they stared at
her In blank perplexity.
Fran regained composure to say
coolly, "I was just laughing." Then
she stepped to her father's chair and
handed him the sheet she had drawn
from the typewriter. The upper part
was an unfinished letter to the Chica-
"From Springfield!" echoed Gregory
aghast.
From Springfield. Mr. Gregory, I
have made the discovery that this
Fran, whom you imagined only about
sixteen years old, and the daughter of
an old friend, is really of age. She's
nothing but a circus-girl. You thought
her joking when she called herself a
lion-tamer; that's the way she meant
for us to take it—but she can't de-
ceive me. She's nothing but a show-
girl pretending to come from Spring-
field. But I know better. So I've
Bent Mr. Clinton there to find out all
about the family of your friend, and in
particular about the girl that this Fran
is impersonating."
You sent Bob Clinton to Spring-
field!" gasped Gregory, as if his (nind
could get no further than that. Then
he turned savagely upon Fran—"And
did you tell her about Springfield?"
Fran smiled her crooked smile.
Grace interposed: "You may be sure
she didn't! Do you think she wanted
her history cleared up? Mr. Gregory,
you are so blinded by what she says
that you won't investigate her claims.
I decided to do this for your sake.
When Mr. Clinton comes back, it's
good-by to this circus-girl!"
Fran looked at her father Inscru-
tably- "I believe, after this," she said,
"it will be safe to leave you two to-
gether."
"You Devil I"
go mission, just as Grace had left it
in her haste to get rid of Fran. At
odd variance with its philanthropic
message were the words Fran had
pounded out for the deception of Mrs.
Gregory.
Hamilton Gregory glared at them
at first uncomprehendingly, then in
growing amazement. They read—
"Ask her why Bhe Bent Bob Clinton
to Springfield."
CHAPTER XVII.
Shall the Secret Be To1d7
Fran had expected Robert Clinton's
return in four or five days, as had Grace
Noir, but secrets that have been bur-
ied for many years are not picked up
in a day. However, had the chairman
of the school-board returned the day
after his departure, Abbott Ashton
would have met him at the station.
Twice, in the opinion of Fran, the
young man had failed her by allow-
ing Grace's mind to flash to Impor-
tant discoveries along the path of his
insulated remarks about the weather.
ThiB third test was more equal, since
he was to deal with no Grace Noir—
merely with a man.
As Littleburg had only one railroad,
and it a "branch," it was not difficult
to meet every train; moreover, Miss
Sapphlra's hasty notes from her
brother kept Abbott advised. At first.
Miss Sapphlra said, "It will be
week;" later—"Then days more—and
the business left like this!" Then
came the final bulletin: "I may come
tomorrow. Look for me when you see
me."
What the secret was that Abbott
must prevent Clinton from divulging,
he did not care to guess; doubtless
the picture of Gregory's past, with its
face to the wall, might be Inscribed,
"Some other woman." For surely
Grace Noir was some other woman.
With these thoughts, Abbott met the
evening train, to see Robert Clinton
hastily emerge from the solitude he
had endured in the midst of many.
Robert was in no pacific mood, and
when he found himself almost in the
arms of Abbott, his greeting was bois-
terous because impatient at being
stopped. Abbott, knowing that Robert
was not ordinarily effusive, thought,
"He has the secret!"
Robert shook hands without delay-
ing progress toward the waiting hack,
bearing Abbott along on waves of
greeting.
"But surely you are not going to
ride!" Abbott expostulated.
"Business—very pressing—see you
later."
"But I have business with you, Mr.
Clinton, that can't wait. Come, walk
with me to town and I'll explain; It'll
delay you only a few minutes."
Like a restive horse on finding him-
self restrained, Robert Clinton lifted a
leg without advancing. "Oh. very
well," he agreed. "In fact, I've some-
thing important for you, old fellow,
and I'll explain before I—before tb
declaring that their relationship as
teacher and school-director was for
ever at an end, and they stood as man
to man.
Clinton 6poke rapidly, with his
wonted bruskness: "GueBS you know
I've been knocking about the country
for the last three or four weeks—saw
a good many old friends—a fellow can't
go anywhere without meeting some-
body he knows—curious, isn't it? Well,
I've just got an opening for you. You
know how sorry I am because we had
to plump another teacher on to your
job, but don't you worry If Fran did
hold your hand—just you keep your
hands in yotif pockets after this, when
there's danger—Say! I've got some-
thing lots better for you than Little-
burg. School out In Oklahoma—rich
—private' man behind It—be owns the
whole plant, and he's determined to
run it to suit the new ideas. This
rich man—chum of mine—.went West,
bought land, sat on it, got up with his
jeans full of money. Wants you to
come at once."
Abbott was elated. "What kind of
new ideas. Bob?" he asked Joyously.
"Of that impractical nonsense of
teaching life instead of books. You
know what I mean, but I don't think I
do. Don't worry about it now—some-
thing terrible's on my mind—Just aw-
ful! I can't think of anything else.
What you want to do is to scoot out
to Tahlelah, Oklahoma, to this ad-
dress—here's his card—tell 'em Bob
sent you—" He looked at Abbott fe-
verishly, as if almost hoping Abbott
would bolt for Tahlelah then and
there. His broad red face was set
determinedly.
"This news Is splendid!" Abbott
declared enthusiastically. "I had al-
ready applied for a country school;
I was afraid I had lost out a whole
year, on account of—everything. I
must thank—"
"Abbott, I don't want to be thanked.
I haven't got time to be thanked.
Yonder's Hamilton Gregory's house
and that's where I'm bound—good
night—"
"But, Bob, I haven't told you my
business—"
"I'll hear it later, old fellow—dear
old fellow—I think a heap of you, old
Abb. But I must go now—"
"No, you mustn't. Before you go
into that house, we must have a little
talk. We can't talk here—people are
coming and going—"
"I don't want to talk here, bless you!
I want to go in that house. My busi-
ness is private and pressing." The
gate was but-a few yards away; he
"Business—Very Pressing—See
Later."
You
looked at It fixedly, but Abbott held
his hand upon the agitated arm.
"Bob, what I have to tell you can't
wait, and that's all about it. 1 won't
keep you long, just turn down this al
ley with me, for It's a matter of life
and death.1
"Confound your life and death! My
business is Hfe and death, too.'
Robert. 'What business can you havu
with me that wouldn't wait till morn-
ing? Look here, I'm desperate!"
"So am I," retorted Abbott. "Bob,
you've been to Springfield."
Robert Clinton snatched open the
yard-gate, muttering, "That's my busi-
ness."
"Miss Noir sent you to unearth a
secret."
"Oh!" exclaimed Robert, in an al-
tered tone, stopping in the gateway,
"did she tell you about It?"
"No—but you've brought back that
secret, and you must not tell It to
Miss Noir."
"Not tell her? That's funny!" Rob-
ert produced a sound which he expect-
ed to pass as laughter. "So that's
what you wanted to tell me, is it? Do
you know what the secret is?"
"I do not. But you mustn't tell It"
"However, that's what I'm going to
do, as soon as I reach that door—
take your hand off, man, my blood's
up, by George! Can't you see my
blood's up? It's a-boiling, that's what
It's doing! So all you want is to
ask me not to tell that secret?"
"Not exactly all."
"Well, well—quick! What else?"
*'To see that you don't tell it."
"How do you mean to 'see' that I
don't tell it?"
"You will listen to reason, Bob,"
said Abbott persuasively.
"No, I won't!" cried Robert. "Not
me! No, sir! I'm going to tell this
minute."
"You shall not!" said Abbott, In a
lower and more compelling tone. His
manner was so absolute, that Robert
Clinton, who had forced his way al-
most to the porch-Bteps, was slightly
moved.
"See here, Abbott—Bay! Fran knows
all about It, and you pretend to think
a good deal of her. Well, It's to her
Interests for the whole affair to be
laid open to the world."
"I think bo much of Fran," was the
low and earnest rejoinder, "that If I
were better fixed, I'd ask her to marry
me without a moment's delay. And I
think enough of her, not to ask her
to marry me, until I have a good po-
sition. Now It was Fran who asked
me to see that you didn't betray the
secret. And I think bo much of her,
that I'm going to Bee that you don't!"
For a moment Clinton waB silent;
then he said In desperation: "Where
is your nice dark alley? Come on,
then, let's .get in it!"
When they were safe from Interrup-
tion, Clinton resumed: "You tell me
that Fran wants that Becret kept? I'd
think she'd want It told everywhere.
This Becret is nothing at all but the
wrong that was done Fran and her
mother. And since you are bo frank
about how you like Fran, I'll follow
suit and say that I have asked Grace
Noir to marry me, and I know I'll
stand a better show by getting her
out of the hypnotic spell of that mis-
erable scoundrel who poses as a bleat-
ing sheep—"
Abbott interrupted: "The wrong
done Fran? How do you mean?"
"Why, man, that—that hypocrite In
wool, that weed that infests the
ground, that—"
"In short, Mr. Gregory? But what
about the wrong done Fran?"
"Ain't I telling you? That worm-
eaten pillar of the church that's made
me lose so much faith In religion that
I ain't got enough left worth the post-
age stamp to mall It back to the re-
vival meeting where it came from—"
"For heaven's sake, Bob, tell me
what wrong Mr. Gregory did Fran!"
"Didn't he marry Fran's mother
when he was a college chap in Spring-
field, and then desert her? Didn't he
marry again, although his first wife—
Fran's mother—was living, and hadn't
been divorced? Don't he refuse to ac-
knowledge Fran as his daughter, nmk-
ing her pass herself off as the daugh-
ter of some old college chum? That's
what he did, your choir-leader! I'd
like to see that baton of his laid over
his back; I'd like to lay it, myself."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
yes, before," he ended, turning his
Hp started up. "What is this?" be back with a smothered growl.
exclaimed wildly, extending the paper , "Lucky I was at the station," Ab- . Noir was seen to pass the window,
toward Grace. | bott exclaimed, "since you've seme- Abbott's band tightened on the oth
She read it and smiled coldly. "fes." j thing to tell me, Bob. What is it?" er's arm. as he urged, "Down that al
she said, "the little spy has even fer- In thus addressing his old friend as ley. a nice dark place for talking—"
Her Help.
"The fact of the matter is, I never
At that moment, a light was turned amounted to anything before I was
| on in Gregory's library, and Grace married."
"Then you give your wife credit for
awakening your ambition?"
"No; for making it nece^ary for
me to get out and hustle."—Cbieago
reted that out, has she! Very well, J "Bob" the young man was officially, "'Nice dark,' be hanged!" growled Record-Herald
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Canadian Valley Record (Canton, Okla.), Vol. 9, No. 24, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 6, 1913, newspaper, November 6, 1913; Canton, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc175953/m1/3/: accessed April 19, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.