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"Awful pore, sense Fran lef' the show," was the answer, accompanied by a grin that threatened to cut the weather-beaten face wide open. Fran beamed. "Mr. Smookins knew my mother didn't you, Bill? He was awful good to me when I was a kid. Mr. Smookins was a Human Nymph in those days, and he smoked and talked, he did, right down under the water remember, Bill?
"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.
And oh, by the way, Bill just stop this wheel, every once in a while, will you? when we're up at the very tiptop. All right good-by." And Abbott called gaily, "Good-by, Mr. Smookins!" "I'm glad you did that, Abbott. You think you're somebody, when somebody else thinks so, too. Now we're rising in the world." Fran was so excited that she could not keep her body from quivering.
This is a friendof mine Mr. Ashton. And Abbott, this is an older friend than you Mr. Bill Smookins." Mr. Bill Smookins was an exceedingly hard-featured man, of no recognizable age. Externally, he was blue overalls and greasy tar. Abbott grasped Bill's hand, and inquired about business.
"Yes," said Fran, happily, "we can talk about it in that way. Isn't Bill Smookins a dear to keep us up here so long?" 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.
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