THE PANGS OF JEALOUSY.
Fillmore, who did not live in Baltimore, boarded with his sister,
Mrs. Loder, on Calvert Street. He returned to his sister’s home, his
mind occupied with thoughts of lacrosse and Inza Burrage. It must be
confessed that he thought more of Inza than of the game at which he had
won fame among his college mates.
Reaching home, he found his sister and casually asked about the girls.
“They’re in their room, Fred,” smiled Mrs. Loder. “I don’t think you’ll
see anything more of them this evening. Be careful, you bad boy! you’re
becoming altogether too interested in Miss Burrage. I’m afraid those
eyes of hers have wrought havoc with your heart.”
“Nonsense!” he laughed. “How foolish you are to get such a notion, sis.
I like her because she’s so bright and interesting. I’m not the sort of
fellow to get broken up over any girl. They’re all alike to me.”
“Oh, I’ve heard youngsters like you talk before! You can’t fool an old
married woman. I’ve seen what was going on.”
In vain he protested that there was nothing “going on.”
“You can’t fool me,” she repeated. “Inza Burrage is handsome and
fascinating, and you’ve been sticking to the house in a most amazing
way since she arrived. Haven’t you learned that she’s engaged to a Mr.
Merriwell?”
“Of course.”
“She’s in love with him, too, so it won’t do you any good to waste
your time. Don’t get to mooning round her. She’s aware that you are
interested, and I think it’s beginning to annoy her. I have a fancy
that’s one reason why both girls are sticking so close to their room
to-night. They’re keeping away from you.”
“They don’t have to!” he muttered, his pride touched and his cheeks hot.
Then he wandered off by himself, turned on the electric light in
the little reading room back of the parlor, flung himself on a
leather-covered Morris chair and studied for an hour. Finally his
thoughts wandered from his studies and he dropped the book. His eyes
had begun to smart and burn, and he turned off the light.
The doorbell rang. It was answered by a colored maid, and two young men
entered. They gave the colored girl their cards, and she told them to
step into the parlor and wait.
The sliding door between the parlor and the little room occupied by
Fillmore was partly open. He caught a glimpse of the two visitors and
saw that both were fine-looking fellows. One had dark hair and eyes.
The other sat down where Fred could see him. The light fell full on his
face, and the youth on the Morris chair noted its unusual strength and
manly beauty. The longer he gazed at that face the more deeply he was
impressed by a conviction that the young man was a person of great
ability and force who was destined to make a mark in the world.
“This will be a great surprise for the girls,” said the one of the dark
hair.
He of the fine face smiled, and his smile was fully as wonderful as the
face which it lighted.
“They will be more than surprised,” he said.
A few moments there came a rustling on the carpeted stairs. With a rush
that was little short of a run, Inza Burrage came down, followed a
little later by Elsie Bellwood.
Inza, her eyes shining like twin stars, her cheeks aglow, entered the
room. The youth of the fine face sprang toward her and she was clasped
in his arms.
“Inza!” he cried, his voice hoarse with deep feeling.
“Frank!” she answered. “Oh, Frank! Frank!”
He kissed her again and again.
Fred Fillmore started up, feeling in his bosom a terrible sensation
that he had never before experienced. He could not bear to see her
held thus in those strong arms and kissed in that manner. In his heart
something seemed ready to burst. For a moment he stood with his hands
clenched, longing to rush in there and tear her from the man.
Then he turned away and fled with noiseless steps.
“That’s the man!” hissed Fillmore, as he found his way to the rear of
the house and ascended the back stairs. “That’s Merriwell!”
He was astounded by his own emotions. He felt himself quivering from
head to feet. Reaching his own room by way of the back stairs, he paced
excitedly up and down.
“I’d like to punch him!” he huskily muttered. “Jingoes! what is the
matter with me? It made me furious to see him kiss her. I didn’t
suppose anything could give me a feeling like that. What is the matter
with me?”
He was somewhat dismayed over it. After a time he slowly murmured:
“By Jove! I am stuck on that girl! I didn’t know it before. That’s
what ails me. If any one had told me I was hit so hard I’d felt like
punching him. What am I going to do about it?”
There didn’t seem to be much of anything to do, but his brain was
awhirl, scores of wild fancies and ideas flashing through it. For a
long time he paced up and down, gradually growing calmer. Finally he
left his room and descended by the front stairs, whistling.
In a careless manner he strolled into the parlor, stopping short and
ceasing to whistle in apparent surprise as he beheld the four persons
there.
“I beg your pardon!” he exclaimed, starting to retreat.
Inza rose.
“Mr. Fillmore,” she called.
“Miss Burrage,” he bowed. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I didn’t know——”
“No intrusion,” she assured. “Let me introduce you to Mr. Merriwell.
Frank, this is Mr. Fillmore, Mrs. Loder’s brother.”
“Glad to know you, Mr. Fillmore,” said Merriwell genially, as he
grasped Fred’s hand. “Miss Burrage wrote me about you. You’re captain
of the Hopkins lacrosse team, I think?”
“I have that honor.”
“An honor it is,” nodded Merry. “You are captain of the lacrosse
champions of the United States at the present time.”
Fillmore was then introduced to Bart Hodge.
He noted that an unusual tide of color had suffused the cheeks of Elsie
Bellwood, and now, of a sudden, he realized that she, like Inza, was
a wonderfully pretty girl. The two girls were of strongly contrasting
types.
“Mr. Fillmore has been very good to us, Bart,” said Elsie.
“Which places Frank and me under untold obligations to him,” said
Hodge. “I have only one fault to find with him. He should have written
me that you were ill. It was a crime for you girls to keep it from me.”
“I wanted to write,” said Inza; “but she wouldn’t let me tell you that.”
“Why, it was nothing,” declared Elsie. “I wasn’t going to break up your
trip just because I happened to be a bit out of sorts. I suppose the
climate was too severe after spending the early part of the winter in
the West.”
“We wanted you to keep on with us,” reminded Frank. “It was your own
fault that you returned East when you did.”
Fillmore was urged to sit down, and he accepted the invitation.
“Let’s see,” he said, “I believe Miss Burrage told me you were
organizing a lacrosse team, Mr. Merriwell.”
“It’s practically organized,” nodded Merry. “We’re going to play a few
games at the close of the college season. We’ve arranged for two games
already.”
Fillmore lifted his eyebrows in surprise.
“Well, you’re a hustler!” he smiled. “Are you going to have some
Harvard players on your team?”
“Five of them. Three were former Hopkins men.”
“Will Herb Onslaw be one of the five?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t see how you induced him to play on a team where some one else
is to be captain.”
“Oh, that wasn’t difficult. I think Onslaw’s a very decent and modest
chap.”
“You don’t know him!”
“It seems that you don’t like Onslaw.”
“Not much, for I know he’s full of wind. He was dreadfully puffed up
because Harvard happened to win from us. You know I was hurt in the
game and did not play during most of the second half.”
Hodge shrugged his shoulders and his lip curled the least bit. He
detected the conceit in Fillmore.
“I know about that. It was very unfortunate,” said Merry.
“Of course I’m not saying we’d won if I hadn’t been hurt, but we had
the lead when that happened. I think Onslaw was glad to see me go out
of the game.”
“He didn’t appear to me like a malicious chap.”
“Oh, I presume he’s smooth enough. Sorry he’ll not be with Harvard next
year. I’d like to get against him again.”
“Possibly you will. We’ll give you a game right after the close of
college, as soon as you like. I’d like to make arrangements for the
game while in Baltimore. Of course, it’s possible your team will not
play us, but we’re very anxious, and you shall have our first game
together, if you’ll take it.”
“Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if it might be fixed that way. Are you
going to challenge us?”
“Hadn’t thought of making it a challenge. Just fancied we might arrange
a meeting, that’s all. Still, if you think we’d better make it a
challenge——”
“I don’t suppose it will make any difference. How long will you remain
in the city?”
“Until the day after to-morrow.”
“Well, I’ll introduce you to our manager to-morrow, and you can see
what you can do. I’ll urge him to make the game with you.”
“Do! Who’s your coach, Abercrombie?”
“He’s one of them.”
“Good man. No one in this country knows more about the game.”
“Who’ll coach your team?”
“We’re going to have a Canadian.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Fillmore. “You’re going in for the real thing! Some day
we’ll put it all over those Canucks!”
“Perhaps so,” admitted Frank; “but, to tell you the truth, I fear the
players of this country will have to improve faster than they have to
get away with the Canadians. We can trounce them at baseball; but at
lacrosse and ice hockey they are going to keep the lead for some time.”
“Don’t you believe it!” cried the Hopkins captain. “Their day is coming
right soon. I’ll admit that they still outrank us, but the sport is
comparatively new with us. We have not given it enough attention,
and it hasn’t become popular with the public. It deserves to become
popular.”
“It will,” asserted Frank. “When people begin to realize what a pretty
game it is they’ll take to it. The public has to be educated up to a
thing like that. Lacrosse has hardly any of the dangerous elements of
football, yet it is exciting, and the open playing permits spectators
to see almost constantly everything that is taking place. There is no
more graceful game played.”
“Why, you’re a real enthusiast!” said Fillmore.
“Just as I am an enthusiast in all clean, healthy sports. I believe in
such things, and I take hold of them with delight. I’ve seen lacrosse
played in Canada, and the work of two well-matched teams up there puts
us in the shade. However, let the public show the interest for lacrosse
that it has in college baseball and we’ll witness great advancement in
the next few years.”
“Have you played lacrosse yourself, Mr. Merriwell?”
“A little.”
“It’s a game at which practice counts for a great deal.”
“Like baseball. Mere strength is of small matter in lacrosse. Speed,
skill, nerve, and brains all come in. In this respect it has some
advantages over football.”
“Well, you can discuss all that to-morrow!” laughed Inza. “Just now I’m
in favor of talking about other things. If you play the game here,
Elsie and I will attend and root. Won’t we, Elsie?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” answered Elsie.
“You’ll see something that will give you small satisfaction,” thought
Fillmore; but he kept his thought to himself.