ON THE STAIRS.
Frank went home with a heavy heart, for he saw the black shadow of
coming trouble hanging over Jack and Nellie. He was resolved to protect
them to the best of his ability, but he realized at last that there
was nothing like gratitude in the heart of old Joe, and there was no
foretelling what the man would do.
The blind girl was sitting up on the bed, and Frank heard her singing
softly before he reached the door. He entered the room gently, but she
heard his step, stopped and stretched out her arms, with a glad cry. He
hurried to her, exclaiming:
“You are better, Nellie?”
“Oh, yes; so much better!” she smiled. “The doctor says he’ll not have
to come any more.”
“That is fine,” cried Frank, as gayly as possible. “Oh, I told you it
would be all right, dear little girl.”
“Yes; I’ll be out soon.”
“Where is Jack?”
“He went out to the store. He’ll be right back. He went out to-day and
played and sang all by himself, and he brought back eighty-seven cents,
though he wasn’t gone more than two hours. Wasn’t that just perfectly
splendid?”
“It was very good. But did he leave you all alone? I told him not to do
that.”
“Oh, he has been here so close. I wanted him to go, for we have not
been earning any money. I was all right by myself.”
“And you were not lonesome?”
“Well--not much. You see, I was thinking of you.”
“Of me?”
“Yes; and of Elsie you told me about. Oh, I have pictured her in my
mind. She must be a good girl, Frank.”
“She is one of the sweetest, dearest girls in the whole, wide world!”
There was a flitting shadow on Nellie’s face, but it was gone in a
moment.
“I am sure you are right,” she said. “Some time you will marry Elsie?”
Frank felt the blood rush to his cheeks and his heart gave a leap.
“Perhaps so,” he said, softly.
“I know you will,” came from her lips. “I hope you may always be happy,
Frank. I hope no shadows may come between you and Elsie.”
“My dear little friend, why have you been thinking so much of this?”
“Oh, I don’t know--I couldn’t help it. It was the way you described
Elsie. You told me how beautiful Inza was, but you told how much like
a dear little saint Elsie was, and then I knew you cared for her
the more. Perhaps, Frank--perhaps I may be able to see when you are
married, and perhaps I may be a bridesmaid at the wedding.”
“You shall!” he exclaimed, laughing and kissing her forehead. “What a
dear little bridesmaid you will make!”
There was a faint quivering of her chin, and he wondered what it meant.
He stared at her in surprise.
“Why, you appear so strange!” he said. “At one moment you are happy,
and the next you look sad.”
“Do I? Don’t notice that, Frank. I am not sad; I am very gay because I
think you should be. Elsie must have inspired you to be good and brave
and noble.”
“I think she has many times. She has so much confidence in me, and it
is an inspiration to know some one believes you must do everything
right.”
“I do not believe you could do anything wrong, Frank.”
“And you are also an inspiration for me, Nellie. I think of you very,
very often.”
“Did you think of me to-day?”
“Many times.”
“Tell me about it. How have you done to-day?”
“The best I could.”
“I know that; but has everything gone well?”
“Not as well as it might.”
“Tell me about it,” she urged again.
But Frank had no desire to let her know what had occurred, and he was
glad when, at this moment, he heard the stumping sound of a crutch on
the stairs.
“Here comes Jack,” he said.
The lame boy came in, bringing a bundle.
“There,” he said, with a laugh, “I made some money to-day, and I’m
going to help provide for this ranch. This thing is altogether too
one-sided, Frank Merriwell.”
“You young rascal,” cried Frank, “do you dare play tyrant?”
“On this occasion I do. If you try to boss me now, you’ll find I’m a
bad, bad man. Just get ready for supper, and I’ll have it on the table
pretty quick.”
“Mutiny! mutiny!” exclaimed Merry, tragically. “I didn’t expect this. I
am quite unprepared, and I suppose I’ll have to surrender the ship.”
“If you don’t, I’ll scuttle her.”
“The jig is up. You’re in command to-night.”
This pleased the lame boy, and he hopped off, giving orders like an old
sea captain, and speaking in such a deep voice that he soon began to
grow hoarse.
“You’d better stop talking that way, captain,” laughed Merry, “or
you’ll ruin your voice. Don’t try to talk down in the hold all the
time. Come up on deck!”
“Sir,” scowled little Jack, “you should address your superior officer
in a more respectful manner. I will not have it, sir.”
“Ay! ay! sir.”
“That’s the stuff! No, I mean that’s right. Shiver my timbers and dash
my toplights! I’m a rough old tar; but I am master of my own ship. Get
onto your job here, and help me jib up the sheet.”
Frank aided Jack in spreading the tablecloth, assuring him at the same
time that “get onto your job” was not a thoroughly nautical expression.
The coffee pot was set to simmering on the stove, and in a short time
supper was ready.
Little Nell did not come to the table, but Frank took her food to her,
and aided her in eating it. All the while he talked to her in his jolly
way, and she declared that she had never eaten such a pleasant supper.
“Here! here!” cried the lame boy, rapping on the table; “on this vessel
I will not permit such familiarity with my first officer and the man
before the mast. It is certain to result in poor discipline. Break
away, there!”
“You’ll have to take another trip to sea, captain, before you get rid
all your landlubber expressions. ‘Break away’ is pretty bad.”
When the meal was over, Frank took the lame boy’s guitar, put it in
tune, and strummed away on it for some time, while Jack and Nellie
listened. Frank played strange little bits of his own composing, some
of them lively, some soft and pathetic. He sang one or two of the old
college songs, and then turned to and helped Jack clear the table and
wash the dishes.
Jack announced that he was going out to see if he could not pick up
some money that evening. Frank tried to dissuade him, but the lame boy
was determined, and he finally departed with the guitar.
Being left with the blind girl, Merry told her stories for more than
an hour. She listened to them, holding onto one of his hands. Outside
the wind came up and rattled around the building, slamming a shutter at
intervals and moaning at the corners like a creature in pain.
“Hear the wind!” Nellie whispered, after a time. “How it sobs and
cries! It seems as if some one with a broken heart were lost out there
in the night.”
“Don’t think of such things, Nellie,” urged Frank. “You make yourself
nervous and sad, and you will not get well so quick. To-morrow the sun
will shine.”
“I cannot see it.”
“You shall soon.”
There was a clattering sound on the stairs, and Frank sprang up
quickly, turning toward the door.
“What is it?” asked the blind girl, still clinging to him.
“It is Jack! Hear his crutch.”
“Yes; but why is he stumbling upstairs so fast? Hark! Somebody is
following him! I hear heavy steps!”
Frank released her hold and sprang toward the door. Before he reached
it, it burst open, and the lame boy staggered in, looking white and
scared.
At that moment a heavy body was heard falling down the stairs.