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FRANK TAKES A LOOK AT THE STEEL HANDS OF THE CLOCK THAT
HE IS TO REPAIR
lows and I were up in the clock-room yesterday. I looked out thru the door — it's no job at all, really, honey. The hands are as firm as a railroad bridge. I'll wait till the hour-hand is in easy reach; then one step out, and it's a matter of fifteen minutes or so, and I'm back with a lump of dollars." He jumped up from the table and caught up his coat. ' ' Going to see me off, honey?"
She followed him to the door, lifting her clouded face. "Oh, I hate it — the work!" she cried, against his rough cheek. "Mother all her life lived in the shadow of dread. She was terribly afraid. Every time a knock came on the door she could picture father's body outside — crushed and broken. I know how she suffered now. It's born in us both — the horror of the heights. Father thinks John is a coward, but I understand."
"Dont worry, girlie," he soothed her. "You cant lose me so easy as that."
"Frank!" Her eyes suddenly blazed with resolution — "Frank, I just cant stand it. I wont live mother 's life over again. I love you ; you know that, dont you ? But if you keep on steeplejacking, you'll have to give me up." Her voice changed, trembled. "Come down, dear," she pleaded. "There's lots of work to be found down here — and there's me — I'm here — and I cant ever go up with you, even in imagination. I'm afraid to love a steeplejack!"
He looked down, troubled; but in his quiet eyes was no hint of yielding. "Why, you're asking a bird not to fly, honey," he said gravely. "It's in me to climb — I love it — it's my work, and a man's got to do his work in the world."
"Then how about me?" she cried passionately. "Where do I conic in, in your life? Dont I fount at all \"
"You're everything in the world," he said — "everything; but — why. Margaret, a man's got to do his work!"
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