But there were stories that on occasions old Dan took too much and became like a maniac. Then even Cassie could do nothing with him, and it was said that he had once beaten her so severely while madly intoxicated that she had been taken to the hospital, where she remained six weeks.
It was said that through her father’s ill-treatment and neglect Cassie’s health had been broken down.
Frank wondered at the change that came over her every night just before she went onto the stage. She suddenly seemed to become quite a different creature. The lackluster departed from her eyes, her step became elastic and buoyant, and even her voice seemed to change.
All this was a mystery to Merry at first, but, one night, when she sent him to her dressing room for some article she had forgotten, he made a discovery that enlightened and horrified him.
A small needle syringe lay on the shelf beside the square mirror.
“Morphine!” gasped Frank. “That is the secret of the change!”
Little Cassie was a morphine fiend!
The knowledge preyed on Frank’s mind. He pitied the girl, and longed to do something for her, but he knew that when the dreaded habit had once fairly fastened itself on a victim that person was almost surely doomed.
Frank was very considerate with Cassie. He showed her many favors, and he never minded her freaks and whims when she was in a bad humor. As a result, after a time, the girl began to take a great interest in Frank.
“Look here, Merriwell,” she said, one night as she was “laying on” the burnt cork, “I cotton to you. You are the right stuff, but you never ought to be in this business.”