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FRAN ft URl CKENR1DCE mis Illustration* by O. Irwin Myer? Nobody's mtli girl?" be repeated, ? ipresslbly touched that it should to. What a treasure somebody was ' tied! "Are you a stranger In tho mV Never been here before," Fran an? swered mournfully. Hut why dfd you comef '1 came to rind Hamilton Gregory-" Hie youag man was astonished, ldu't you see him la the teat, lead c the choir!" 'He has a house ra town,'' Krau d timidly. "I don't want to bother I n while be is In his religion. I iut to wslt for him at his house. i." the added earnestly, "if you ? >uld only show me the way." Just as if she did not know the wayl Abbott Ashton was now completely at her mercy. "So you know Brother ?gory, do you?" he asked, as he ' d her over the itllea and down the ? agon-road. -Never saw him In my life," Fran r piled casually. She kn-iw how to y It prohibitively, but she purposely ft the bars down to ftnd out if the mng man was what she hoped. And h* was. He did not ask a is*tion. They sought the grass -own path bcrdertng the dusty road; a* they ascended the hill that anut am a view of the village, to their ears iiae the sprightly Twentieth Century nnn What change had come over Ash ton tbat the song now seemed as ftrmgely out of keeping aa had tho peaeefulneas cf tho April night, when ha trat left tie tent? He felt tho prink of remorse because In the midst of nature, he hsd ao aoon forgotten a'syut souls. Fran caught the air and softly sang ?reap what we sew?" -Don't! ' he reproved her. "Child, at means nothing to you." "Tee, It does, too." she returned, rather impudently. She continued to Slog and hum until the laat note was ? r mthered in her little nose. Then he spoke: "Howiver?it means a differ? ent thing to mo from what it moana the choir." He looked at her curiously, "How dlfterent?" he smiled, "lo me, it means that we really do ap what we sow, and that If you're ?ne eotnelhlng very wrong In tho tat?ugh! Better look out?trouble'a ?mlug. 1 hat s what the song means ? me." "And will you kindly tell me what It em to tho choir?" **Yes. I tell you what It means to ve choir It meana sitting on benches nd singing, after a sermon; and It leaas a tent, and a great evangelist ad a celebrated soloist?and then go? lf home to act as if it wasn't so." Abbott was not only astonished, but sined. Suddenly he had lost "No ody's little girl." to be confronted by n elfish spirit of mischief. He asked /Ith coustralnt "Did thla critical at Itude make you laugh out, In the ant?" "1 wouldn't tell you why I laughod,M| Van declared, -for a thousand dol ara. And I've seen more than that a my day." They walked on. Ho wua silent, she impenetrable. At last she said, in a hanged voice, "My name's Fran. Vhat'a yours f* He laughed boyishly. "Mine's Ab ott " His msnner made her laugh aympa 'helically It was just the manner she Iked heat?gay, frank, and a little nlschlevoua. "Abbott?" she repeated; 'well?la that all?" -Ashton Is the balunce; Abbott ishton. And yourt?" The reat of mine Is Nonpareil? unny name, lan't It!?Fran Nonpa? rs*!. It means Friin. the small type; ?r Irren who's unl ke everybody ?lae; ?r- oh, there are lots of meanings to na Borne find one, some another, ope never understand." It was because Abbott Ashton was ouchfd that he apoke lightly : "What s very young Nonpareil to xi wandering about the world, all by ourself!" She waa grateful for his raillery. How young do you think?" "Let me see. Hum! You are only? .bout?" She laughed mirthfully at ds sir of preposterous wisdom. 'About thirteen?fourteen, yes, you .re more than I Ifteen, more than . . Rut take off that enormous hat. Ittle Nonpareil. There's no iso guess ng in the dark when tho moon's blnlng." Fran was gleeful. -All rght." sho rl *d In one of her childish tones, htlll. fresh, vibratory with tho lau? de of Inno?. > liy this time they had reached the oot-brldge that a panned the deep , t loe. Here the wagon-road mado lt.: rc-aalng of a tiny stream, by slipping inder the footbridge, some fifteen eet below. On the left lay straggling Mttlebirg with its four or Ave hun Ired houses, faintly twinkling, and he yoiid the meadows on tho light, a frioge of woods started up as If It did not belong there, tmt hnd rome to bo s**eu, while above the woods swung the big moon with Fran on tho foot bridge to shine Tor. Fran's hat ounirled idly hi her hatid as she drew herself with backward movement upon tho railing. Tho moon light was full upon bur face; so was the young man's gaze. One of her feet found, after lelsuroly exploration, a down-slanting hoard upon the edge of which she pressed her heel for sup? port. The other foot swayed to and fro above the flooring, while a little hand on cither side of her gripped tho top rail. "Hero I am." she said, shaking back rebellious hair. Abbott Ashton studied her with gruve deliberation?it is doubtful if ho had ever before so thoroughly en Joyed his duties as usher. He pro? nounced judicially, "You are older than you look." "Yes," Fran explained, "my expe? rience accounts for that I've bad lots." Abbott's lingering here beneath tfie "Who's Littls Qlrl Are You?" moon when he should have been hur? rying back to the tent, showed ho\i uuequally the good things of life?ex? perience, for Instance?are divided. "You are sixteen," he hazarded, con* sclous of a strange exhilaration. Fran dodged the issuo behind a r.mile?"And I don't think you are so awfully old." Abbott was brought to himself with a jolt that threw him hard upon self consciousness. "I am superintendent of the public school." The very sound of the words rang as a warning, and he became preternaturally solemn. "Goodness!" cried Fran, consider? ing his grave mouth and thoughful eyes, "does It hurt that bad?" Abbott smiled. All the same, the position of superintendent must not be bartered away for the transitory pleasures of a boot-brldgo. "We had better hurry. II you please," he said gravely. "I am so afraid of you," murmured Fran. "But I know tho meeting will laut a lone time vet. I'd hats to h?vr to wait long at Mr. Gregory's with that disagreeable lady who isn't Mrs. Gregory." Abbott was startled. Why did she thus designate Mr. Gregory's secre? tary? He looked ke .mly at Fran, but she only said pluinti\ely: "Can't we stay hero?" He was disturbed and perplexed. It was as If a fitting shadow from some unformed cloud of thought-mist had tsllen upon tho every-day world out of his subconsciousuess. Why did this stranger speak of Miss Grace Noir as the "lady who Isn't Mrs. Gregory?" The young man at times had caught himself thinking of her in Just that way. School superintendents do not enjoy being mystified. "Really," Abbott de - "Goodnessl" Cried Fran, "Does It Hurt That Bad?" clared abruptly, "I must go back to tho meeting." Fran had heard enough about his leaving her. Shu decided to stop that ouce and for all. "If you go back, I go. too!" she suld conclusively. Site gave him a look to show that sho uwant it, then bscnms all humility "I'leaso don't bs cross with little Nonpareil," she coaxed. "I'leass don't want to go back to that meeting, I'leaso den't want to leave me. You are so learned and old and so strong ? you don t care why a little girl laughs." i .m tilted her head ftldewlse, and Ifen glancI of her SySS .uoved Irresist? ible, "Hut tell inn about Mr. On | Dry," she pleaded, "and don't mind my Way*, Rvef since mother died I've found nothing in this world but love that was for Homebody else, und tn iiMe that was for me." The pa bette cadence of the slender* thron ted tones moved Abbott moro than ht e n e.| to show. "If you ro In trouble," he exclaimed, ")ou'vo sought lbs right helper In Mr. Gregory, lie's tue ncnest 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. I think Mr. 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, I mean; I have the ambition to hold, one day, a chair at Yale or Harvard?that means to teach in a university?" he broke off, in explana? tion. "You flee," with a deprecatory smile, "I want to make myself felt in tho world." Fran's eyes shone with an unspoken "Hurrah!" and as he met her gaze, he felt a thrill of pleasure from the im? pression that he was what she want? ed him to be. Fran allowed his soul to bathe a while in divine eye-beama of flattering approval, then gave him a little sting to bring him to life. "You are pretty old, not to be married," she remarked. "I 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 waB rather hard hit. This wandering child was no doubt a witch. He looked in the direction of the tent, M if to escape the weaving of her magic. But he only said, "That Bounds ?er?practical." "Yes," said Fran, wondering who "the woman" was, "if you can't be practical, there's no use to be. Weil, I can see you now, at the head of some university?you'll 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 religion*." "Books aren't religion," he remon? strated, then added with unnecessary gentleness, "Little Nonpareil I What an idea!" "Yes, books are," retorted Fran, shaking back her hair, swinging her foot, and twisting her body impatient? ly. "That's the only kind of religion I know anything about?jist books, Just doctrines; what you ought to be? lieve and how you ought to act?all ninety printed and bound between cov? ers. Did you ever meet any religion outside of a book, moving up and down, going about in the opon?" He answered in perfect confidence, "Mr, Gregory lives his religiQn daily? I the kind that helps peopin, that makes the unfortunate happy." Fran was not hopeful. "Well, I've 1 come all the way from Now York to seo him. I hope he can make me happy. I'm certainly uifortunate enough. I've got all the elements he needs to work on." "From Now Yorkl" He considered the delicate form, the youthful face and whistled. "Will you please tel me where your home is, Nonpareil?' She waved her arm Inclusively "America. I wijh it were ooncentrat ed In some spot, but it's just spread out thin under the Stars and Stripes 1 My country's about all I have." She broke off with a catch in her voice she tried to laugh, but it was no use Suddenly it came to Abbot* Ashton that he understood the language Ol j moon, watching woods, meadow-lands even the gathering rain-clouds; all spoke of the universal brotherhood ol man with nature; a br' " ^rhood 1 . eluding the most ambitions ^-^.-in tendent of schools and a homeless Nonpareil; a brotherhood to be con? firmed by the clasping of sincere hands. There was danger in such a confirmation, for it carried Abbott be? yond tho limits that mark a superin? tendent's confines. As ho stood on the bridge, holding Fran's hand in a warm and sympa? thetic pressure, he was not unlike one on picket-servlco who sllpfi over the trenches to hold friendly parley with the enemy. Abbott did not 'enow there1 was any danger in this brotherly handclasp; but that was because he could not see a fleshy and elderly lady slowly coming down the nil. As su? perintendent, he should doubtless have considered his responsibilities to the public; he did consider then when the lady, breathless and Bevere, ap? proached the bridge, while every pound of her ample form cast its weight upon tho seal of her disapprov? ing, low-voiced and significant, "Good evening. Professor Ashton." d Fran whistled. Tim lady heard, but she swept on without once glancing back, lhere was in her none of that saline ten? dency that made of Lot a. widower; the lady desired to seo no more. Fran opened her eyes at Abbott to their widest extent, as sho demurely asked, "How cold is it? My ther? mometer Is frozen." Tho young man did not betray un? easiness, though he was really alarmed, for his knowledge of tho fleshy lady enabled him to foresee gathering clouds more sinister than those overhead. The ob\lous thing to be done was to release '.he slender hand; ho did so rather hastily. "Have I got you into troible?" Fran asked, with her elfish Intlflh. "If so, we'll he neighbors, for tha.'s where I IIVO, Who was she?" "Miss Sapphire Clinton," ho an? swered as, by a common in pulse, they began walking toward Han llton Greg? ory's house. "Mob Clinton's sister, und my landlady." The more Abbott thought of his adventure, the dnrker it grew; before they retched their des tlnat on it had become a deep gray. "Do you mean the 'Brother Clinton* that couldn't get 'through'3" "Yes . . . He's the chairman of the School Hoard." "Ah!" murmured Fran comprehend ingly. At Gregory's gate, she said, "Now you run back to the tent and III beard the lion bjr myself. I know It has sharp teeth, but I guess It won't bite me. Do you try to get back to the tent before the meeting's over. Show yourself there. Parade up and down the aisles." He laughed heartily, all the sorrier for her because he found himself in trouble. "It was fun while it lasted, wasn't It!" Fran exclaimed, with a sudden gurgle. "Part of it was," he admitted. "Good-by, then, little Nonpareil." He held out his hand. "No, sir!" cried Fran, clasping her hands behind her. "That's what got you into trouble. Good-by. Run for it!" CHAPTER IV. The Woman Who Was Not Mrs. Greg? ory. Hardly had Abbott Ashton disap? peared down the village vista of moon? light and shadow-patches, before Fran's mood changed. Instead of seeking to carry out her threat of bearding the lion In the den, she sank down on the porch-steps, gathered her knees in her arms, and stared straight before her. Though of skillful resources, of im? pregnable resolution, Fran could ho despondent to the bluest degree; and though competent at the clash, she often found herself purpling on the evo of the crisis. The moment had come to test her fighting qualities, yet j she drooped despondently. Hamilton Gregory was coming through the gate. As he halted in sur? prise, a black shadow rose slowly, wearily. He, little dreaming that he was confronted by a shadow from the i past, saw in her only the girl who had been publicly expelled from the tent. The choir-leader had expected his home-coming to he crowned by a vision very different. He came up the walk slowly, not knowing what to lay. She waited, outwardly calm, in- j wardly gathering power. White-hot action from Fran, wben the Iron was to be welded. Out of the deepening shadows her will leaped keen as a blade. She addressed him, "Good evening, Mr. Gregory." He halted. When he spoke, his tone expressed not only a general disap? proval of all girls who wander away from their homes In the night, but an especial repugnance to one who could laugh during religious services. "Do you want to speak to me, child?" "Yes." The word was almost a whisper. The sound of his voice had weakened her. '?*What do you want?" He stepped up on the porch. The moon had van? ished behind the rising masses of j storm-clouds, not to appear again, hut the light throuj I: the glass door re? vealed his poetic Matures. Flashes of i lightning as yet faint but rapid in re? currence, showed his beauty as that of a young man. Fran remained si-1 lent, moved more than she could have thought possible. He stared Intently, but under that preposterous hat she was practically Invisible, save ss a black shadow. He added again, with growing impatience, "What do you want?" His unfriendliness gave her the spur she needed. "I want a home," she! said decidedly. Hamilton Gregory was seriously dis? turbed. However evil-disposed, the waif should not be left to wander aim-! lessly about the streets. Of the three hotels in Littlcburg, the cheapest was not overly particular. He would take her there. "Do you mean to tell me," he temporized, "that you are abso? lutely alone?" Fran's tone was a little hard, not because she felt bitter, but lest she betray too great feeling, "Absolutely alone In the world." He was sorry for her; i t the same time he was subject to tha reaction of his exhausting labors as aong leader. "Then," he said, with tired resignation, "if you'll follow me, I'll take you where you can spend the night, and tomorrow, I'll try to find you work." "Work!" She laughed. "Oh, thank you!" Her accent was that of repu? diation. Work, indeed! He drew back in surprise and dis? pleasure. "You didn't understand me," she resumed. "What I want Is a home. I don't want to follow you anywhere. This is where I want to stay." "You cannot stay here," he an? swered with a slight smile at the pre? sumptuous request, "but I'm willing to pay for a room at the hotel?" At this moment the door was opened by the young woman who, some hours earlier, had responu? d to Fran's knocking. Footsteps p^on the porch had told of Gregory'o return. (TO BE CONTINUED.) si M i l It PLAYS FLORENCE. small lloys Have Interesting Unme of Baseball. An interesting game <?r baseball be? tween h'lorenee und Kumter came off til the Liberty Street park Monday morning, the Sumter Iuveniles win? ning tin- game by a sc< re of 10 t?? \. The Imme team won by team work. The pitching <?n both sides was good. The batteries were: Suntter, llrown and Nunnatnaker, Florence, Harper and Woods, Knottier game will he played this afternoon between tins two teams. TALES or *.liu:itlA. It is a Land of Promise?Native sa\ Sges Odd. Charleston Post. Pauline Woodson, the colored mis nionary to Liberia, who recently re? turned to Charleston, says that in.a constrictor meat is eaten In some parts of Liberia by tin- native*, and is held In high regard and choice. These people have very strange tastes for delicacies such as cooked snake meat, elephant test, dogs, eats and other strange dishes that Americans would not care for. These savages grow to he over sev? en feet In height, are well propor? tioned and have huge legs and arms. They weigh over 200 pounds. Their clothss consist of a very heavy gol i bracelet around the wrist and the hide of some animal thrown around their loins. This is their Sunday COS tume. The natives are very quick to learn new customs, lor they copy and imitate just as a monkey does. They take up American ideas very quickly and adopt them in both man? ner and dress. The houses of the civilized Liberia ns are made of planks, costing 50 cents each, when hewn out of a log of cedar or other kind of wood. The natives coming in from the jungle with plenty of gold or a piece of ivory which is more valuable than gold there, Pauline says, will swap a pint of precious metal for a yard of bright-colored cloth or a handful of trinkets. When an especially rich savage comes to Monrovia with a few sacks of gold and ivory the tirst thing that he does is to get a jug of mm and a large, loud whistle, and pos? sessing these much desired articles, he is as happy as if he owned the whole world, perhaps more so. Traveling In Liberia is expensive, tiresome and crude, as there are few railroads or good road a The average country highway is wide enough >nly for man to pass over. Many of these path.?> lead through forests, where travelers are often attacked by thel wild beasts. One may for a shilling1 travel all day in a hammock carried by two strapping negroes. Liberia is a land of great promise, sayi Paulins Woodson, she thinks cnat a lot of her people could do bel? ter there than In this country. Pau? line's husband, some years ago, plant? ed some cotton and it grew into small trees. For live years he kept on plant, ing it. Bach year the cotton did a lit? tle better, until at the end of its years had aad as pretty a crop as can b? grown in America. Liberia is now having the winter season and six months of rain. Pau? line does not lind the weather in Charleston at all hot, as it is like fall to her. She was sitting on her piazza with a shawl thrown around her when seen by a reporter. The rainy pe? riod in Liberia is the season of fever. It does not rain steadily all the time, but every day without fail, and some? times for two weeks rain pours down in torrents in the upper country. The natives as a whole are cleanly. If King Toculo, a native chief, lived in Charleston, he would have his men cleaning up the streets all day, for he believes that cleanliness is next to Godliness. Every morning the natives on arising, take a bath in a nearby stream and also wash their gold bracelet and other simple attire. In.dojng missionary work through the country, Pauline says that the na? tives crowd around her and sit on tht? ground, while she tries to make them understand what she is telling about religion, "hey are quick to catch on, and ply her with questions in regard to her "American" God. The savages In the upper country, or Hottentots, will not eat white people, as they call them ' white devils," hut will torture and kill them. They will eat persons of their own color and enjoy their meal of human flesh immensely. Some of these Hottentots have been known to live to he 200 years old, she says, and many of them live to be 2Gu years old. Pauline would like to go back to Li? beria, as the missionary held there is Imports Pi It Seepr.a however, that she will not be able to do so, as her married daughter here is satisfied with Charleston, and does not wish to go with her mother to Liberia. Pau? line will not go without her daughter and son-in-law. WILLIAMSHI KG DECLARED WET. Throwing out of Two Boxes Takes Yic'.ory from "Drys." Kin<%itree, Aug. 30.?In the face of ?trong opposition of eminent counsel, the county board of canvassers at 6.30 a'clock this evening reversed the re? sult of the recent dispensary elction as returned y the managers, ami declared in favor of the dispensary. The light was waged over the con? tested polls at Hebron and Muddy Creek. By the decision of the board this evening, these two boxes were thrown out, changing the result of the total vote polled in the county to a majority of 17 for the dispensary, as against a majority of 2 previously re? ported in favor of the "dry" forces The 'drys" were represented by for? mer Judge Et O. Purdy, of Sumtor, and Charlton DuKant, Esq., of Man? ning. SCHEDULES Southern Railway?Premier Carrier of The South. N. B.?Schedule figures published ?is Information only and are not guar? anteed. Effective May 26, 1913. Departure from Burnt er: (Except.' Sunday): No. 140?6.20 A. M. for Columbia Charleston and way stations. No. 142?3.40 P. M. for Columbia, Charleston and way stations. Arrival: (Except Sunday.): No. 141?10.20 A. M. from Char? leston, Columbia and way stations. No. 143?5.46 P. M. from Charte* ton, Columbia and way stations. W. H. Caffey, D. P. A. Charleston. W. E. McGee, A. O. P. A. Columbia. 8. C. Needed Mammas. Little four-year-old was learning to sew. She made some beautifully small stitches and mamma said, "Now make a long row of those tiny baby stitches." After awhile the UtUe fin? gers became tired and when mamma came to look again, there were some long ones. On being asked why she had not made them all tiny she re? plied, "Why, the baby stitches needed some mammas." Wire Fence Wo buy direct fro mtbe steel mills In car loads for cash with aU discounts off, this enables us to ?a?II you at the lowest prices, which we guarantee to do. Booth-Harby Live Stock Co. \ Sumter, - - - South Carolina ! ' i ????????????se???eee??s?s????s??s???s?.?????< Sumter Railway & Mill Supply Co SUMTER, S. C. The season is here when you are obliged to have repairs, generally, as quickly as they can be gotten. We are in your midst, can give you quicker service than our competitors, and we bespeak a part of your business, guaranteeing satisfaction. Our Stock is Complete in the Following Lines: ?t ROOfing! rt?*tsd*esnd V. Crimped: Klectroid rubber rnolilng. 1. 2 and 3 ply. Roltina' Rubber, (iandy ? cuing. um, i^the,. Injectors: AU klnd Packing: [? *****as h0s6* sl*'ai 1 :u,(' * x**r ?x6s' ^''"?v s perfect Blocks: JJJS. Itopi a'"1 Phain' s,,,? | l?>sdlii| uiioiii. proof tolled. and Pnllfluc* Steel. Iron and ruiicy^. w,,od spin win It M.y size shaft. Lace Leather: ?.f ""' Babbitt Metal: Si"?.'"*10 Shafting:A"? Hangers: ""sl Shatt Couplings. lTtf?; plate sad ribbtnl. Waluac Jeiaklni and sf yfi IdllSd. a|(| i-4|n. 1?:. n stock. i 4)1? to to ?iii. Iron Pipe Fitting?. ah styles. Bar Iron. 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