“Oh, I’ve got friends here. I’ve been here visiting twice before. The first time I was here was when I began to flirt with an actor.”
“Miss Blaney, you should return home. Your mother will be glad to see you, and——”
“The old man will kick me out. It’s no use, Frank Merriwell. I think you mean well enough, but you are off your trolley in regard to me. I can’t go back now, and I’m bound to have a good time while there is a good time going. I thought you were sporty, but I see I made a mistake. I reckon I’d better shift along. You are all right—from your head up.”
“Wait a moment. We play in Carrolton to-morrow night. Can I not take a message to your mother from you? Think how she must feel. Can’t I tell her something that will cheer her up?”
“What’s the use?”
“How do you know but her heart is breaking for you? Perhaps she prays for you night and day. Perhaps——”
“Oh, don’t!” cried the girl. “I don’t like to hear about that. No, I won’t send a message by you. The idea that an actor should want to take such a message! Ha! ha! ha! Why, it’s perfectly ridiculous! Ha! ha! ha! ha!”
The girl’s laughter caused him to shiver a bit. It was not the laugh of genuine merriment—it was forced and unnatural.
She was quick to see how it touched him, and she suddenly cried:
“Don’t mind me! I’m not worth it! You have tried to give me some good advice, but it’s a waste of breath. I’m going to do as I like, no matter what comes of it.”