Hodge nodded. In his heart he knew Frank Merriwell spoke the truth.
“Any girl must know she will be seen by people who know her in case she flirts with a strange actor,” Frank continued. “What does she suppose will be thought of her! If she does not think enough of herself to refrain from such dangerous amusement, she should pause to consider what others may think of her. The story will pass from mouth to mouth; it may be elaborated. Perhaps she has passed in good society in her home. Of a sudden she notices that some of her former girl friends are a trifle frigid toward her. Then it is possible some little social event takes place and she received no invitation. She feels hurt and mortified. She may not suspect the truth, and so she goes on doing the very things that have led to her unpleasant situation. Or she may suspect it and say, in anger, that she has done nothing wrong, and so in absolute defiance keeps on as she has begun. In both cases she finds herself dropped from her social circle, and she is forced to seek friends elsewhere. She feels this keenly, but it may make her all the more desperate and defiant, so that she carries her flirtations with strangers further than she otherwise would. In her anger and desperation she may grow very reckless, which may lead to her utter shame and disgrace.”
“Darn it, Frank!” cried Ephraim, “ef the gals could hear yeou talk, I ruther guess they’d be keerful. But they can’t hear ye, so haow be yeou goin’ to do um any good?”
“I have thought of writing a play about it, or a book. If I wrote a book, it should be a novel and its title should be, ‘Harmless Flirting.’”
“You would waste your time, Merriwell,” said Hodge. “Your book would not be read by the ones for whom you wrote it. Such light-headed girls seldom read anything.”
“I am afraid you are right,” confessed Merry. “I am afraid girls will go on flirting with actors and strangers to their own sorrow and remorse.”
Frank picked up one of the letters from the table.
“Now here is something from a girl for whom I am sorry,” he said.
He read it aloud:
“Dear Mr. Merriwell: I suppose you will think me very foolish to write to you, but I saw you in your beautiful play ‘True Blue,’ last night, and I was perfectly charmed. It is a lovely play, and you act the part of Dick Trueheart in a just perfectly splendid manner. My brother Tommy says you are a real Yale college man, and that you are just a peach. Tommy is fourteen. I am sixteen, but I’m real large for my age, so almost everybody thinks I am eighteen. I am going to see you again to-night. I wish I knew you. I think you must be awfully nice. I think actors are lovely, but papa says they are no good. He is a cross old patch. My mother is dead. I hope to go on the stage sometime and become a great actress, and wear diamonds and have flowers passed me over the footlights. I inclose a knot of blue and white ribbon. If you will wear it on your baseball uniform to-night I shall know you would like to become acquainted with me, and I will find a way to let you know my address before you leave St. Joseph. Oh, I do hope you will wear it! From your sincere admirer,