That will help. And he is a Native Son."
Ruef babbled on. He had a great plan for combining all political
factions--an altruistic dream of economic brotherhood. Francisco
listened somewhat skeptically. He was not certain of the man's
sincerity, but he admired Ruef. Of his executive ability there could
be no doubt.
Yet there was something vaguely wrong about the wondrous fitness of
Ruef's plan. Mary Godwin Shelley's tale of "Frankenstein" came to
Francisco's mind.
* * * * *
That evening Frank said to his father, with a wink at Jeanne, "Want to
go slumming with me tonight, father? I'm going to do my first signed
story: 'The Night-Life of This Town'."
"Do you think I ought to, Jeanne?" asked her husband whimsically. He
glanced at his son. "This younger generation is a trifle--er--vehement
for old fogies like me."
Jeanne came over and sat on the arm of his chair. "Nonsense," she said,
"you are just as young as ever, Francisco.... Yes, go with the boy, by
all means. I'll run up to Maizie's for the evening. She's making a dress
for Alice's birthday party. She will be sixteen next month."
* * * * *
Francisco and his son went gaily forth to see their city after dark.
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