“Splendidly!” Demarest exclaimed enthusiastically, as he stepped into the tonneau. “Another two days will see everything in first-class shape. The men have caught on to what I want, and are going at it with a will, for they understand the need for haste. I shan’t have to spend so much of my time looking after them to-morrow.”
“Company come yet?” Dick inquired.
“Yes; they arrived at four-fifty,” the actor returned. “Haven’t seen them yet, but they phoned me from the hotel. Yes, thanks to you, I think we’re going to pull through in fine shape.”
The car drew up before the New Haven House, and the actor leaped out.
“Come in, won’t you?” he urged. “I’d like to have you meet the people. They’re a nice lot.”
“Guess I’d better wait until to-morrow,” Merriwell said. “We’ve got a football meeting on hand right after supper, and I’ll have to hustle to get through in time. I wish you’d let me have that manuscript of the play you spoke about, though. I want to read it to-night, if I can manage to stay awake.”
“Of course!” Demarest exclaimed. “I’d forgotten all about it. Just wait a second while I get it.”
He disappeared into the hotel, returning five minutes later with a square, flat parcel, which he handed to Dick.
“There. Don’t hesitate to blue pencil it wherever you find any faults,” he said. “We’ll have the dress rehearsal Thursday morning, and can introduce any changes then. We’ve rehearsed so much that the people are all letter-perfect, and there isn’t any need for holding one until Thursday to give them an idea of this stage. Well, good night. If you feel as weary as I do, you’ll sleep like the dead. See you to-morrow.”
Merriwell and Buckhart returned his greeting, and he stood for a moment on the sidewalk, while the car slid on down the street. Dick had a last, swift glimpse of his handsome, happy face, with the sensitive lips curved in a smile of perfect friendliness, and then the car rounded a corner, and the picture vanished.