The words were not a command, but they were spoken as if Frank had no thought in the world that they would meet with a refusal; and, without waiting to note their effect, Merry resumed writing.
The boy sat down and remained quiet till Merriwell laid aside the pen, smiling.
“Come here, Dick,” said Frank.
The boy rose and came to him.
Frank turned his head to look out of the window, which led the boy to look in the same direction, and he saw little Felicia still caressing the burro.
“You didn’t know Felicia cared so much for Billy, did you, Dick?” asked Merry, smiling a bit.
The boy did not answer.
“Of course you didn’t,” Frank went on; “and it’s very foolish of her. It’s silly to care so much for a homely little donkey, and she ought to be punished for it.”
“It isn’t silly!” burst forth the boy warmly, his face flushing; “and she hadn’t ought to be punished!”
“Do you really think so?” asked Merry, elevating his eyebrows slightly, and appearing surprised.