HODGE AND DITSON.
Bart and Elsie were quite alone at last. He had seen Mrs. Parker and
chatted with her a few moments, after which, making some excuse, she
retired from the airy sitting-room and left them there. The doors were
open, but the house was quiet, and there seemed to be no one near to
overhear what might pass between them.
Then Bart hesitated. He had come there with the determination of again
assaulting the fortress and making a desperate attempt to carry it by
storm, but now his heart was filled with forebodings of defeat.
Elsie was looking downward, tapping the carpet lightly with one small
foot. He gazed at her with his heart seeming to pound madly in his
throat.
Surely she was the sweetest and most beautiful of all girls! He could
not doubt it. He thought of other girls, and to him the fairest of them
were as common clay beside her.
“I love her!” he told himself. “I must win her—I will!”
How could he begin to say what he wished to express? With sudden
determination, he rose and walked over to the window near her.
“This is a beautiful place, Elsie,” he said, looking out of the window.
“Very beautiful,” she answered, rising. “Virginia is delightful in the
spring time.”
“You like it here?”
“Oh, yes.”
“You have not been lonesome?”
“Ah, but I have,” she confessed. “You know I was quite a stranger here,
and I could not help being lonesome a little. Besides, I used to long to
see you all at New Haven.”
He drew nearer to her.
“Whom do you mean by ‘you all’?” he asked.
“Why, you and Frank, and all the friends I know there.”
“But most of all?”
“You and Frank.”
“If Frank were to ask you that question, you would answer, ‘You and
Bart.’”
“Why, yes, I suppose I would.”
He showed a shadow of disappointment.
“I thought you did not intentionally place me first,” he said; “but I
hoped you did.”
She looked up quickly, and that glance made his heart beat still more
swiftly.
“Bart,” she said, “I would not intentionally place either one of you
before the other.”
His heart seemed to drop back into his bosom with a thud.
“I had hoped you did,” he repeated.
He knew he must brace up at once. He looked on her, and the fire
returned to his heart.
“Elsie,” he said swiftly, yet gently, taking her hand, “I love you! You
know that, for I have told you so before now. My love has not changed in
the least, unless it has grown stronger. I know it has taken a firmer
hold on me, for now I feel that I cannot live without you!”
The hot blood had rushed to his face, and he was trembling again. He
drew her toward him, and she felt his panting breath on her cheek, which
had paled as he grew flushed.
“Don’t stop me, Elsie—please listen! You must listen! This love is
filling my heart with fire! It is burning out my soul! Elsie, if you
could love me in return! I would do anything for you, sweetheart! I
would give you my life’s devotion! I would protect you from every storm
and hardship! I would take you in my arms and bear you tenderly over all
the rough places in the journey of life! I know I am not worthy of you,
dear girl—I know it, but still I cannot give up the thought that I may
win you! It is like giving up my very life! I will try to make myself
worthy! I will do everything to bring myself nearer your level, which I
know I can never reach!”
“Now, stop, Bart!” she exclaimed, with sudden firmness. “I will not hear
you talk that way about yourself. Don’t try to make me out such a
paragon of perfection, for I know I have my faults, just like any other
girl, and I——”
He stopped her.
“You are not like other girls in any way,” he declared, with all the
intense infatuation of youth. “You are wholly and entirely different.
You are as far above them as——”
“Don’t, Bart!” she protested, her face crimson. “Truly you are
mistaken!”
She was laughing and confused, but she looked prettier than ever before.
He tried to draw her into his arms, but she would not permit it.
“I don’t care!” he declared, with that same intense earnestness. “To me
you are different, and that is enough! To me you are everything! Elsie,
answer me one question, answer me honestly: Are you still in love with
Frank?”
She hesitated with bowed head, her laughter stopped now, the blushes
fading from her face.
His heart seemed to stand quite still while he waited for her to answer,
for he felt that his future happiness depended on the words her lips
would speak.
It was plain that she was trying to analyze her own feelings; she was
trying to read the secret depths of her heart. He could see that, and a
fearful dread of the result rose up and grasped him with a grip of iron.
He was not a coward in any sense, yet, aware as he was of the new
understanding between Frank and Inza, he felt that he dared permit Elsie
to speak without knowing what had taken place.
For what if Elsie were to confess that she still cared for Frank as of
old? Then he could not tell her. And he had sought permission from Frank
to tell Elsie what had occurred.
Having made such a profession, would not Elsie be too proud to ever
alter her mind, and might it not raise up still greater barriers between
them?
“Wait!” he panted, as he fancied she was on the point of speaking. “I
want to give you more time, dear girl. I want you to know just what your
answer means to me. Frank is my friend, and he is the finest fellow in
the world, so I am not——”
“That’s your opinion, Mr. Hodge. Beg pardon for intruding. I am looking
for Ned, and, happening to hear voices here, I strayed in.”
The speaker was Roland Ditson, calm, cool, swaggering.
Hodge, furious at the intrusion, gave the fellow a black look, while
Elsie drew back a little.
“Don’t let me interrupt your enjoyment,” said Ditson, with a laughing
sneer. “I’m going right out; but before I do, I want to say that the
opinion of Mr. Hodge in regard to Merriwell is not shared by everybody.”
Bart took two steps toward Roland, hoarsely demanding:
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said,” declared Ditson, with cool defiance. “I do not
regard Merriwell as the finest fellow in the world, but far from it. In
fact, I think he is——”
“Hold on!” Bart’s hand was outflung. “Be careful what you say!”
“Whew!” whistled Roland. “This is a free country, and my tongue is my
own. You can’t muzzle me here, Hodge, and I shall express my opinion of
Merriwell if I wish.”
“Don’t do it! There is a lady present.”
“Well, it is true that I couldn’t properly say just what I think of
Merriwell in the presence of a lady.”
Bart was beginning to tremble again, but this time it was for an emotion
entirely different from the one that had possessed him a short time
before. He longed to walk to Roland and knock him down without another
word.
“I shall be glad to go outside with you and hear you express yourself,”
said Bart, in a manner that Roland could not misunderstand.
Now Ditson had no fancy for getting into a fight with Hodge, who had a
reputation as a chap who had as soon fight as eat.
“Excuse me,” he said airily. “I haven’t time, you know. I’m looking for
Ned Parker. I want to tell him that Virginia is dead sure to win the
ball-game to-day. Yale will not be in the game at all.”
“Your wisdom does you credit!” returned Bart scornfully.
“That’s all right,” returned Roland. “You’ll see pretty soon that I know
what I know. Yale can’t win to-day. The die is cast, and Virginia drags
her feathers in the dust.”
Hodge became convinced that he understood the fellow’s meaning. He
remembered Elsie’s words of a short time before. Why was Ditson so
confident? For once in his life, Bart resolved to be diplomatic. He
would seek to draw the fellow out.
“With Merriwell in the box, there is a possibility that Virginia will
not score,” he said.
“With Merriwell in the box!” laughed Ditson. “Ha! ha! ha! Why, is that
so? Well, wait and see what Mr. Merriwell does to-day. It is my private
opinion that he will not do any pitching worth mentioning. I tell you
Virginia will bury you.”
There was that in the fellow’s manner that added to Bart’s conviction
that something was wrong. For the first time Hodge began to be alarmed.
“What do you mean?” he demanded. “Merriwell is in first-class trim. He
is sure to do good work to-day.”
“Is he? Ha! ha! ha! Wait and see!”
“What is up?” hissed Hodge, unable to control himself longer. “Have you
been at your old dirty tricks, Ditson? If you have—if the least harm has
befallen Frank Merriwell——”
“Don’t say it,” warned Roland, with a careless gesture of his cane. “I
don’t mind your bluffing talk, Hodge. I know nothing about anything that
has happened to your pet, Merriwell. I only know that he is a——”
“Come outside and say it—come outside!” begged Bart. “Don’t force me to
hit you here!”
“Why, you big blower! you wouldn’t dare to strike me!”
“Wouldn’t I?”
With that exclamation, Bart went forward. Roland lifted his cane to
strike. Like a panther Hodge leaped, clutched the cane, tore it from the
rascal’s grasp, and broke it over his knee.
“That’s all!” breathed the dark-eyed lad, as he flung the broken cane at
Roland’s feet. “I won’t hit you, though you deserve it. But if I find
that you have been at any dirty work, look out for me! I’ll give you the
worst thrashing you ever had!”
“The threat of a bully,” declared Roland. “I don’t mind anything you may
say. You had better keep away from me. But I want you to pay me for my
cane.”
“You do? Well, it’s likely you will take it out in wanting.”
“We’ll see about that!”
With these words Roland turned and left the room.
Elsie had not interfered, but now she came forward swiftly, and suddenly
she put her arms about Bart’s neck, crying:
“I know now that he has done something to Frank! Bart, you must find out
about it—you must! If anything has happened to Frank——”
She stopped, but already she had said enough—too much, Bart thought.
There was a feeling of intense pain in his heart, and he mentally cried:
“She loves him—she loves him still!”
But aloud he said:
“Elsie, I will do everything I can. You know that. He is my friend—my
dearest friend, and I’ll do anything for him.”