Mabel and Bessie looked at each other in astonishment.
“You must be silly, Fanny! You are nothing of the sort!” cried Mabel.
“Yes, I am!” sharply declared Fanny, using a handkerchief to dry her tears. “I am just as mean and hateful as I can be, and I wish I were dead! It would have been a good thing if I’d burned!”
Mabel and Bessie looked horrified.
“It’s dreadful!” they exclaimed.
“I don’t care, it’s true!” cried Fanny. “Just think of the mean, hateful things I said to Frank Merriwell, and then think what he did for me! And I did not mean those things at all! Oh, I’m wicked, and I know it!”
“Why, Fanny! Mr. Merriwell did not mind what you said,” assured Mabel, hoping to pacify her in that manner.
“He heard them, and he must think me the meanest, hatefulest creature alive. I shall never dare to look him in the face again—never!”
After a long time her agitation subsided, and then, of a sudden, she exclaimed:
“Girls, do you know what I am going to do?”