| "'The bridge is broke, and I have to mend it,' |
"and I go to work and try. Sometimes it is for other people, sometimes for myself. Bridges are always getting broken,—'tisn't only spectacles."
Frances smiled, for though she did not quite understand, it sounded interesting; but before she had time to ask any questions a tall young man entered. "Why, Wink! what in the world are you doing here?" he exclaimed.
"Oh, daddy dear, I hope you haven't worried!" she cried, running to him; "Mrs. Gray broke her glasses and couldn't read or sew, and I thought I ought to have them mended for her,—it wasn't far you know—and then it began to rain so I couldn't get back."
"And this is Mr. Clark, I suppose," said Mr. Morrison; "let me thank you for taking care of my little daughter. And now, Wink, put on this coat and your rubbers, and let us hurry before mother quite loses her mind."
When she was enveloped in the waterproof, Frances held out her hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Clark," she said; "I hope you will find some nice person to rent your flat. Good-by."
The Spectacle Man stood in his door and watched the two figures till they disappeared in the misty twilight, then he returned to the shop. "Peterkin," he said, addressing the cat, "I like that little girl, and I suppose I'll never see her again."
Peterkin uncurled himself, stood up on the counter, arched his back, and yawned three times.