“Why should you believe such things of Dick Merriwell? You ought to see it is not like him.”
“But you, Doris—don’t you fancy some of these things may be true?”
She turned her head away in order that he might not read the truth in her face. She did not tell him that she had heard the same things, and had been placed in such an embarrassing position that it was impossible for her to learn the truth without sacrificing her pride. She did not confess that her own mind had been filled with doubts and misgivings.
“We should not believe them, Hal, until we know beyond dispute that they are true.”
“If they are—if they are, I will kill Dick Merriwell!” panted Darrell.
She well understood his passionate and revengeful disposition, and felt that he might be led hastily into something he would ever after regret in case he afterward found that the gossip of the school had no real foundation of truth in it. She believed it her duty to prevent him from any rash action and to hold him in check.
“Hal,” she said, “you must promise me you will have no trouble with Dick—for my sake. I am not blind. I can see through some things. If I have treated you shabbily, it was because of my pride. Let’s forget it. Let’s let things be as they were long ago before we came to Fardale.”
“Do you mean it?” he cried eagerly.
“I mean it, Hal. We will be friends, just as we were of old. If there is a shadow of truth in this gossiping talk, which I don’t wish to believe, Dick Merriwell will soon see that he has made a mistake in thinking I care—I will not speak to him. Promise me—promise me you will not quarrel!”
“I promise, Doris,” he said earnestly. “We must walk back now, for we cannot miss our train.”