He grasped Frank’s hand and shook it heartily.
“I can’t see that you’ve changed a bit since you left college,” declared the stranger, familiarly. “You’re the same old Merriwell that was so popular and cut such a dash. At first I could not believe it when I heard you were here with a traveling theatrical company. Quite a change from college life, eh, dear boy?”
“Yes, it is a change,” admitted Frank, looking sharply at the familiar stranger and wondering where and when they had met before, for, although he had a remarkable memory for faces, there was nothing familiar about this man.
“I should say so!” the other rattled on. “This knocking around the country must seem strange. How are all the fellows at Yale? I suppose you hear from them regularly?”
“No,” confessed Frank, “I can’t say that I do.”
“Don’t? Well, well, well! Don’t hear from the fellows you used to chum with? That’s remarkable! But, then, I suppose it is the way of the world. Come have a drink with me, old man. We’ll be jolly and sociable.”
“I do not drink.”
“Eh? Don’t drink? How long since?”
“I never drank.”
The stranger seemed doubtful.