"I don't think you need one; love and courage can find a way," said Mr. Clark.
Frances went upstairs very soberly. "Mother, I believe I'll write to Gladys," she said, going at once to her desk. It took a good deal of time and thought, but it was finished at last, and she felt a weight lifted from her heart as she put it in the envelope. This is what she wrote:—
"Dear Gladys: I am sorry I behaved so the other day. I was mad because you said Emma cheated, and I thought I had a right to be; but I know now I ought not to have been in a passion. It was a mistake; Emma did play wrong, but she didn't know any better. Gladys, I have found the moral of the story. The bridge between you and me is invisible because of the clouds of anger. I want to find it again, don't you?
"Your friend,
"Frances Morrison."
This note was despatched by Wilson, and bright and early next day Gladys answered it in person. She went to Frances and kissed her. "I am not mad with you any more," she said; "it was nice of you to write that note, and I am sorry I said Emma cheated."
After this, Frances was as merry as a cricket, and went about singing:—
| "The bridge is broke and I have to mend it," |
till her mother was forced to beg for a little variety.
Meanwhile the story of "The Missing Bridge," with some changes and additions, and accompanied by two charming illustrations, had gone to seek its fortune in the office of The Young People's Journal, and it was no longer a secret that Miss Sherwin was in the habit of writing stories and had already met with considerable success.
Frances thought this a strong bond between them, "For father writes stories too, you know," she would often say.