“Trust me, my son,” she said, and her face hardened somewhat as she saw Dick Merriwell advancing toward the carriage.
The plebes made room for Dick to pass. He removed his cap and bowed with grace and politeness to both Mrs. Arlington and June. June spoke, giving him a smile.
Mrs. Arlington seemed to hesitate a moment, and then she began, with that same haughty, chilling air that was offensive, to say the very least:
“I feel it my duty, Mr. Merriwell, to thank you for your action in assisting my son to escape from the burning hotel. Without doubt Chester would have been able to descend the ladder alone, but the fact that you rendered him some aid makes it necessary to thank you.”
Her words were like a slap in the face. Dick saw June turn pale, and he knew she had not anticipated this graceless act from her mother. Now, Dick Merriwell was not always cool and restrained, but on this occasion he was master of himself, even though he felt that the thanks he had received were as much an insult as anything else. He bowed again.
“If I rendered Mr. Arlington any assistance,” he said, “I am glad I was able to do so, for the sake of”—he looked at June—“those who are attached to him.”
Chester Arlington saw that glance, and it enraged him. He knew Merriwell had not helped him from the hotel because of a feeling of regard or liking for him, and he believed Dick did it purely for the purpose of playing the hero before June.
What he did not know was that Dick Merriwell would have done exactly the same had June not been concerned in any way. In such an emergency Dick would not have hesitated to go to the aid of any unfortunate human being caught in the fire-trap, casting aside all thoughts of friendship or enmity.
“Oh, I know the fellow!” thought Chester. “He can’t deceive me with his mock heroism.”
And he did not dream that he was a most ungrateful fellow to entertain such a thought.