"Miss Sapphira Clinton," he answered as, by a common impulse, they began walking toward Hamilton Gregory's house. "Bob Clinton's sister, and my landlady." The more Abbott thought of his adventure, the darker it grew; before they, reached their destination, it had become a deep gray.
"Do you mean the 'Brother Clinton' that couldn't get 'through'?"
"Yes….He's the chairman of the School Board."
"Ah!" murmured Fran comprehendingly. At Gregory's gate, she said, "Now you run back to the tent and I'll beard the lion by myself. I know it has sharp teeth, but I guess it won't bite me. Do 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!"