Fran Part 43

It was a good while later that Abbott said, "As to why I left Littleburg: Bob knew of a private school that has just been incorporated as a college. A teacher's needed, one with ideas of the new education--the education that teaches us how to make books useful to life, and not life to books--the education that teaches happiness as well as words and figures; just the kind that you didn't find at my school, little rebel! Bob was an old chum of the man who owns the property so he recommended me, and I went. It's a great chance, a magnificent opening. The man was so pleased with the way I talked-- he's new to the business, so that must be his excuse--that I am to be the president."

Fran's voice came rather faintly--"Hurrah! But you are to be far, far above my reach, just as I prophesied. Don't you remember what I said to you during our drive through Sure-Enough Country?"

"And that isn't all," said Abbott, looking straight before him, and pretending that he had not heard. "In that town--Tahlelah, Oklahoma--I discovered, out in the suburbs, a cottage--the dearest little thing-- as dear as...as Mr. Smookins; just big enough for a girl like Fran. I rented it at once--of course, it oughtn't to be standing there idle--there's such a fragrant flower-garden--I spent some time arranging the grounds as I think you'll like them. I didn't furnish the cottage, though. Women always like to select their own carpets and things, and--"

Fran's face was a dimpled sea of pink and crimson waves, with starry lights in her black eyes for signal-lights. "Oh, you king of hearts!"

she exclaimed. "And shall we have a church wedding, and just kill 'em?"

Abbott laughed boyishly. "No--you must remember that your connection with show-life is at an end."

"But--and then--and so," cried Fran rapturously, "I'm to have a home after all, with flower-gardens and carpets and things--a sure-enough home--Abbott, a home with _you!_ Don't you know, it's been the dream of my life to--to--"

Abbott was inexpressibly touched. "Yes, I was just thinking of what I heard you say, once--to belong to somebody."

Fran slipped her arms about his neck. "And what a somebody! To belong to you. And to know that my home is _our_ home...."

Abbott, with a sober sense of his unworthiness, embraced her silently.

From far below came a sudden sound, making its way through the continuity of the street-uproar. It was the chugging of the engine.

The wheel began to revolve.

Down they came--down--down--

Fran looked up at the moon. "Good-by," she called, gaily. "The world is good enough for me!"

THE END