She tried to speak, and her eyes met his. She choked, her chin quivered, and she burst into tears, sobbing:
“Oh, Mr. Merriwell!”
It was all she could say, but there was a world of self-reproach, shame and remorse in that exclamation.
It was found that Fanny Darling had been burned, but her injuries were not severe. In beating out the flames Frank had burned his hands, but there was a doctor present who attended to the girl and her rescuer.
Frank’s hands were covered with a coating of creamy stuff and bound up with handkerchiefs.
“I think that will prevent them from blistering,” said the doctor. “I always take a small case with me wherever I go, and it is fortunate I was here to-night.”
“Oh, I am all right!” laughed Merry; “but I sincerely hope Miss Darling was not injured much. I reached her as soon as possible.”
“It is almost certain you saved her life, and I am sure you prevented her from being disfigured as long as she lives,” declared the physician. “She has much to thank you for.”
In another room, with her girl friends hovering about her, Fanny Darling distinctly heard what the doctor said, for there was an open door between the two rooms.
Her face was very pale, and she bit her lip till the blood started, while her hands were tightly clinched.