Never Love a Stranger by Harold Robbins Read Free Book Online Page A

teacher had taught us and I went over and put the money in the church box.
    Mr. Cowan saw it. “That’s a real fine young man,” he said, and called me over. “What’s your name, young feller?” he asked.
    “Francis Kane, sir,” I said.
    “Well, Francis, here’s five dollars more for the church, but before you put it in the box tell me, what do you want more than anything else for Christmas?”
    “An electric train, sir,” I said.
    “An electric train you shall have, my boy. I have a son just about your age at home and that’s what he wants too. You both shall have it.” He smiled at me as I put the five- dollar bill in the church box.
    I counted the days till Christmas. Christmas morning, when I went down to the big tree in the dining-room, I expected to find the electric train, but it wasn’t there. Maybe it hadn’t come yet. I couldn’t imagine he would forget. The day passed and no electric train came.
    I didn’t really give up hope until I had gone to bed. Then quietly I began to cry into my pillow.
    Brother Bernhard, who had been walking in the hall, heard me and came into the dormitory. “What is the matter, Francis?” he asked in that warm, friendly voice of his. Sobbing, I sat up in bed and told him about the electric train.
    He listened quietly and then said: “Francis, do not weep for a small thing like that. ’Tis not very much for a man to cry for. ’Tis better you cry for the love of your friends and for us who cannot give thee half the love thee needs. And besides”—Brother Bernhard was a practical as well as a sentimental man—“Alderman Cowan has been in Florida for the past month, and no doubt he was too busy wi’ his other affairs to think of ye.”
    He stood up at the side of my bed. “Now go to sleep, lad. Ye’ll be needing your
    strength for tomorrow. I’m after taking ye to Central Park for sleigh riding. For ’tis snowing, which ye can see if ye’d but put your head to the window.”
    And I put my head to the window and sure enough the snow was coming down in great big flakes. Dry-eyed, I lay back in bed. I heard Brother Bernhard go back into the hall. He met someone there and I could hear him saying: “I don’t mind the politicians breaking their promises to their voters, but I wish the scoundrels wouldna try to break the hearts of little boys as well.”
    Then the light in the hall flickered and went out, and I began to hate Alderman Cowan with all the fury of a small boy’s soul.
    When I first met Jerry, just before his father was elected Mayor, I didn’t quite know what to do about him. He was a likable, friendly boy who never understood that the real reason for taking him out of a private school and transferring him to St. Thérèse was political. I liked him but I didn’t know whether to carry my grudge against his father to him.
    So I took the shortest way of finding out. I offered to lick him. Halfway through our fight—we weren’t getting anywhere, we were too evenly matched—I put down my hands and said to him: “The hell with it!—I like you.”
    He never knew why I did that—maybe he thought I was a little cracked—but in that nice, friendly manner of his he offered me his hand and said: “I’m glad. I like you too.”
    And we became fast friends. That was the year before. We had chummed together all through the school year just passed, and now he wanted me to meet his old man so’s he could get me to go to the country with him. I had never told him why I didn’t like his father, or, as a matter of fact, that I didn’t like his father. I kind of hoped Jerry would forget about his suggestion, but no dice; right after the last Mass he showed up.
    “Ready, Frankie?” he asked with a smile. “Yeah,” I grunted.
    “O.K., then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”
    A butler let us into his house. “Hello, Master Jerry,” he said. “Robert, where’s Dad?” he asked.
    “In the library. He’s expecting you,” replied the butler.
    I