“My picture?” exclaimed Frank, in bewilderment. “What picture, Mrs. Carrington?”
“Why,” cried Mrs. Carrington, “he actually is so modest he hasn’t realized what a hero he has been! I refer to the splendid account of your bravery in the Brenton Daily News.”
Brenton was the nearest city, about twenty miles from Seaside Park. Frank began to get a faint glimmering of the situation now. The reporter who had snap-shotted him with his camera from the pier must have sent his story to the paper Mrs. Carrington mentioned.
“I think I have the clipping about the rescue,” observed Miss Porter, groping in her hand bag while her merry eyes twinkled as she observed the increasing embarrassment of Frank. “Yes, here it is.”
Frank only glanced at the clipping that was held forward for his inspection. He could not help but notice the glowing head line; “A Signal Act of Bravery,” and observe that a very fair picture of himself in the launch was shown.
“You can have it, Mr. Durham,” continued his mischievous tormentor with a smile. “Your friends are named also in the paper and they may not dislike honest praise, as you seem to do.”
“Now then,” broke in Mrs. Carrington, in her self-assertive way, “let me say what I specially came down here to say. Oh, I was telling about my friends. They have fairly overwhelmed me with congratulations over my fortunate escape.”
“Yes, and some of them who saw the newspaper account said—what was it, Mrs. Carrington? You must tell Mr. Durham,” declared the younger woman.
“About the handsome picture and what a sensible, thoughtful young man our rescuer must be?”
“Oh, Mrs. Carrington,” pleaded Frank. “I beg of you!—it is I who am being overwhelmed now. You will make me so vain I will really begin to think I did something of consequence. Why, there isn’t a young fellow anywhere who wouldn’t hasten to help ladies in distress.”