Frank grasped Hooker’s hand.
“My dear fellow,” he cried, “you have my sympathy and admiration! If I can help you in any way, you may depend on me!”
“Thank you, Mr. Merriwell.”
“Don’t call me that. You are one of my friends now, if you can forget and forgive my suspicions. Call me Merry.”
“All right,” said the outcast, with a bit of a smile on his face; “but don’t call me Hookie! Let it be Jim, will you, Merry?”
“Sure thing, Jim!”
* * * * *
Frank Merriwell had called together his set in his room. They had gathered at the call, wondering what it meant. They chattered, and joked, and speculated. Browning was the last one to come loafing in.
“What’s this?” he asked; “a riot, or a peace conference?”
“Make yourself comfortable, old man,” said Merry, “and I will tell you. All are here now.”