“But my friends—I thought my friends were different.”
“They’re all alike!” said Hooker. “They believe me a crook, and they shun me! Oh, God! it’s enough to drive any man to crookedness! It’s enough to make a man hate himself and all the world!”
Then he dropped on a chair, buried his face in his hands, and burst into tears. Never was Frank Merriwell more wretched and disgusted than at that moment. As he had said, he had not fancied his friends could stoop to use Hooker so contemptuously, and their actions had filled him with astonishment.
“Don’t give way like this, old man! You’ll live it down in time,” he exclaimed.
“I don’t know,” came thickly from the outcast. “It’s a hard struggle.”
“I will help you.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“But your friends——”
“Never mind them.”