It was plain that she was trying to analyze her own feelings; she was trying to read the secret depths of her heart. He could see that, and a fearful dread of the result rose up and grasped him with a grip of iron. He was not a coward in any sense, yet, aware as he was of the new understanding between Frank and Inza, he felt that he dared permit Elsie to speak without knowing what had taken place.
For what if Elsie were to confess that she still cared for Frank as of old? Then he could not tell her. And he had sought permission from Frank to tell Elsie what had occurred.
Having made such a profession, would not Elsie be too proud to ever alter her mind, and might it not raise up still greater barriers between them?
“Wait!” he panted, as he fancied she was on the point of speaking. “I want to give you more time, dear girl. I want you to know just what your answer means to me. Frank is my friend, and he is the finest fellow in the world, so I am not——”
“That’s your opinion, Mr. Hodge. Beg pardon for intruding. I am looking for Ned, and, happening to hear voices here, I strayed in.”
The speaker was Roland Ditson, calm, cool, swaggering.
Hodge, furious at the intrusion, gave the fellow a black look, while Elsie drew back a little.
“Don’t let me interrupt your enjoyment,” said Ditson, with a laughing sneer. “I’m going right out; but before I do, I want to say that the opinion of Mr. Hodge in regard to Merriwell is not shared by everybody.”
Bart took two steps toward Roland, hoarsely demanding:
“What do you mean?”