Circle of Love by Joan Lowery Nixon Read Free Book Online Page B

lugging heavy cases; a few nicely dressed children—^two of whom stuck out their tongues at the orphan train riders, then hid behind their mother's skirts; gentlemen in stiff collars and tall hats; and uniformed policemen who roamed through the crowd, their eyes constantly searching faces. Here and there were a few ex-soldiers with shabby clothes, and a few beggars, who disappeared when they saw the policemen approaching.
    Miss Hunter and a burly conductor helped Frances and the young orphan train riders squeeze through the crowd.
    Caroline clung to Frances's skirts, burrowing into them as though trying to hide.

    "Don't be frightened, Caroline,*' Frances said. She remembered that Caroline was afraid her father would come looking for her. "You're safe with me."
    But Caroline continued to hide, warily peeping out to scan the faces of the people on the platform.
    Frances checked her list. She read each name aloud, and made sure the child climbed the steps and got into the coach car—Caroline first, of course. It was a difficult task. Lizzie Schultz had been fussing too much for Mary Beth Lansdown to hold her, so Frances offered to carry the baby herself. Lizzie's plump little arms were wrapped tightly around Frances's neck, and she refused to let go.
    Suddenly, to Frances's siuprise, Lizzie was plucked from her arms. A deep voice said, "All the other children seem to be aboard. I'll help you with this one, ma'am."
    Before Frances could react, a strong hand gripped her elbow. She was firmly and quickly escorted up the steps and into the coach car, where the children had already claimed their places.
    Frances turned to the tall, handsome stranger who had helped her. He was probably not much older than she was. His chin and jawline were lighter than the rest of his sun-browned face, so Frances realized that until very recently he must have worn a beard. His eyes were a deep blue, and his curly hair was thick and dark. He was dressed in black and wore a flat, black, broad-brimmed hat pulled low over his forehead.
    He removed his hat as he bowed and said, "Reverend Oscar Diller, ma'am." As he waited for Frances to answer, his eyes shifted to the children, then back to Frances.
    Surprised that so young a man could be a

    preacher, Frances smiled and politely answered, 'Thank you for your help, Reverend Diller. Tm Miss Kelly, and Tm escorting these children to foster homes in Missouri for the Children's Aid Society."
    "A highly commendable occupation. Miss KeUy," he answered. "If Imay assist you in any way, please don't hesitate to request my services."
    Frances wanted to laugh at his formality. Surely he was putting on airs. This couldn't be the way he always spoke. It didn't seem to fit And there was a familiar, telltale softness in his q>eech that Frances had caught "Are you bound for Missouri? Do you come from there?" she asked.
    Reverend Diller answered, "I grew up in Missouri but came east to study."
    With a parting nod he left Frances and sat with some of the children. Pulling down his hat brim to shade his forehead, he held little Philip up so that he could look out the window.
    Frances was kept busy while the train was in the station. Some of the children wanted to change places. Some kept bouncing into the- aisle. Harriet suddenly cried out and pointed to a man on the platform. "Look, Emily! There's Papa!"
    Frances looked, too, and saw a man leaning against a support, his head in his hands as he wept
    "1 told you Papa would come!" Harriet said.
    Elmily strugged to get free. "1 want to see Papa," she insisted.
    "No!" Harriet held her tightly. "Papa's crying. He doesn't want us to see him crying."
    Tears ran down Emily's cheeks. "Why doesn't Papa come and get us?"
    "Because he can't," Harriet said. "Remember? He told us that he loves us and wants to keep us, but he

    can't He has no money to take care of us." Harriet burst into sobs. "He didn't want to give us away. Really, he didn't"
    Frances fought back tears. Memories of