Abbott had seen them safely into the house, and had reached the gate on his departure, when Fran came running up. In pleased surprise he opened the gate for her, but she stopped in the outside shadow, and he paused within the yard.
"Fran!" he exclaimed with pleasure. "Is the practice ended?"
She made no response.
"Fran, what's the matter?"
Silence.
Abbott was both perplexed and hurt. "Remember what we said on the new bridge," he urged; "we're friends 'while we're together and after we part!'"
"Somebody ought to burn that new bridge," said Fran, in a muffled tone; "it's no good making wishes come true."
"Why do you say that? Aren't we the best of friends?"
Fran collected herself, and spoke with cool distinctness: "I have a pretty hard battle to fight, Mr. Ashton, and it's necessary to know who's on my side, and who isn't. I may not come out ahead; but I'm not going to lose out from taking a foe for a friend."
"Which you will kindly explain?"