“Yes, mother,” said the girl, now breaking into tears, “I’ll come home!”
“Well,” uttered Frank Merriwell, “this has been a rather lively night, but it has turned out most satisfactory in all ways.”
“Merriwell,” said Dunton, the following day, “I don’t remember just what I said in that restaurant last night, for I was pretty angry with you. I have been thinking it over since, and I’m rather glad you did just what you did. That little girl was altogether too unsophisticated. I don’t hold any hard feelings, and I hope you’ll forget anything I shot at you.”
“It’s all right,” assured Frank. “It’s rather awkward for either of us to speak about the matter, and I’m glad you were the one to mention it. But let such girls alone, Dunton. The world is bad enough, and women have reasons enough for thinking men deceivers and villains. You’ll find you’ll feel better if you do your best to make them think they have made a mistake in judging the sterner sex.”
“I think you are right about that,” confessed Dunton. “I believe I have learned a lesson.”
CHAPTER XIII.
A MISSOURI TERROR.
“Stop!”
“What?”
“That!”