While a rehearsal was taking place for the benefit of the supers that afternoon the local stage manager came to Frank and said:
“Mr. Merriwell, there is a young lady down at the door who wishes to see you.”
“A young lady?” exclaimed Merry, not without a feeling of consternation, for his recent experiences in St. Joseph were vivid in his memory.
“Yes, sir.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know her name.”
“But she belongs in this town?”
“Yes.”
“Methinks thou hast another mash, most noble grand high muck-a-muck,” spouted Douglas Dunton, in the eccentric manner he sometimes assumed.
“I’m afraid so,” admitted Merry.