His silence inspired Fran with hope. "I am so lonely, so lonely!" she murmured plaintively, "so very lonely! There seems a reason for everybody but me—I can't be explained. That's why I am disliked. If there could be one heart for me to claim—whose heart should it be? Does no sort of feeling tell you whose heart it should be?"
"Of course you are lonely, child, but that is your fault. You are in this house on a footing of equality, and all seem to like you, except Miss Grace—and I must say, her disapproval disturbs you very little. But you won't adopt our ways. You get yourself virtually expelled from school—do you blame me for that? You won't go to church—can you expect church people to like you? You make everybody talk by your indiscreet behavior—then wonder that the town shuns your society, and complain because you feel lonesome!"
Fran's eyes filled with tears. "If you believe in me—if you try to like me—that's all I ask. The whole town can talk, if I have you. I don't care for the world and its street corners—there are no street corners in my world."
"But, child—"
"You never call me Fran if you can help it," she interposed passionately." Even the dogs have names. Call me by mine; it's Fran. Say it, say it. Call me—oh, father, father. I want your love."
"Hush!" he gasped, ashen pale. "You will be overheard."
She extended her arms wildly: "What do you know about God, except that He's Father. That's all—Father—and you worship Him as His son. Yet you want me to care for your religion. Then why don't you show me the way to God? Can you love Him and deny your own child? Am I to pray to Him as my Father in Heaven, but not dare acknowledge my father on earth? No! I don't know how others feel, but I'll have to reach heavenly things through human things. And I tell you that you are standing between me and God, just as the lives of so many Christians hide God from the world."
"Hush, hush!" cried Gregory. "Child! this is sacrilege!"
"No, it is not. I tell you, I can't see God, because you're in the way. You pray 'Our Father who art in Heaven…give us this day our daily bread.' And I pray to you, and I say, My father here on earth, give me—give me—your love. That's what I want—nothing else—I want it so bad…I'm dying for it, father, can't you understand? Look—I'm praying for it—" She threw herself wildly at his feet.
Deeply moved, he tried to lift her from the ground.