Frank rose and walked over to Hodge, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Now you are talking silly, old man,” he said. “You never were bad luck to me in the past; why should you be now. You’re blue. You are down in the mouth and your head is filled with ridiculous fancies. Things would have happened just as they have if you had not joined the company.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“You always were superstitious, but I believe you are worse than ever now. You have been playing poker too much. That’s what ails you. The game makes every man superstitious. He may not believe in luck at the beginning, but he will after he has stuck to that game a while. He will see all the odd things that happen with cards, and the conviction that there is such a thing as luck must grow upon him. He will become whimsical and full of notions. That’s what’s the matter with you, Hodge. Forget it, forget it!”
“I think you are likely to forget some things altogether too early, Merriwell. For instance, some of your enemies.”
“What’s the use to remember unpleasant things?”
“They remember you. One of them did so to an extent that he helped ruin the first presentation of your play.”
“How?”
“It isn’t possible that you have forgotten the lying notices circulated all over this city, stating that you were not the real Frank Merriwell, accusing you of being a fake and a thief?”
Something like a shadow settled on Merry’s strong face.