“Now, what is the matter with you, Ephraim?” Merry asked.
“B’gosh! I thought yeou hed more sense!” drawled the Vermonter.
“Sense? How?”
“Then ter think Hodge is gittin’ like hisself ’cause he tried to crack a joke. It kainder seems ter me he’s gittin’ off his trolley. Did yeou ever hear him crack a joke when he was all right?”
“Don’t know—I don’t remember about it,” confessed Frank, smiling.
“’Course ye don’t. I think it’s a mighty bad sign when Bart Hodge tries ter joke. He must be sick!”
Hodge said nothing. He was sitting astride a chair, with his arms resting on the back and his chin resting on his arms. He looked at Ephraim grimly.
Frank was sitting by a table, opening the mail Ephraim had just brought to him.
“True Blue” was playing a two nights engagement in St. Joseph, having opened the previous night at the Crawford Theater. The house had been packed, and the rattling college play went with a vim that electrified the audience and created a sensation. The manager of the theater had been delighted, and he lost no time in asking for a return date, which, however, Merry was unable to give him, on account of the lateness of the season and the route already booked.
Fortunately, Merriwell had been able to find a man to fill the place of Lester Vance, who had been “released” so abruptly in Atchison.