“And I am one of them,” declared Wallace Grafter, advancing to the steps.
He was introduced to Frank and Bart, shaking them heartily by the hand.
Phil Phipps and Farley Fisher followed.
“We have a Yale man here, Merriwell,” said Fuller. “I know you’ll be welcomed by a son of Old Eli. Mr. Manton——”
He stopped short, for Hobart Manton, with Denton Frost at his side, had already turned away and was entering the clubhouse.
The president flushed. For a moment he seemed surprised and confused, but he quickly recovered, smiling a little, as he said:
“Evidently Manton’s modesty prevented him from pressing forward at once. He intends to wait to meet you inside.”
Frank nodded. He knew something was wrong, but he did not show it. He did not even return Bart’s queer look of questioning.
They entered the building. In the parlor they met other members, all of whom were very cordial. In the reading room were still others.
Manton and Frost were there when they entered. The pair surveyed Frank and Bart with an air of indifference, and together, just before Fuller would have presented them, they sauntered away into another part of the house.