“Mr. Merriwell, I said I would ask your pardon on my knees, but I can’t do it here in the street, and so perhaps you will not expect it.” “Well, hardly!” laughed Frank. “I don’t know why you should ask my pardon at all.” “I do! I ask it now, Mr. Merriwell! You were a gentleman, and I know I was not a lady. Oh, I have been so ashamed of myself when I thought it all over and realized what sort of an opinion you must have formed of me!” “Miss Darling!” “And I am trying to leave off slang, although I will make a break occasionally—there! I want to thank you for the heroic manner in which you came to my rescue when my clothes were on fire.” “I am afraid you make too much of that. I fail to see where the heroism came in.” “That—that fellow you just drove away did not make a move to help me, and he was the nearest of anybody! I don’t care, it was heroic of you!” “All right,” smiled Frank; “if you are determined to have it that way, I’ll have to let you regard me as a hero.” She looked him straight in the eyes, and softly said: “I do!” After a moment, her eyes drooped before his steady gaze, and he saw she had long lashes that almost touched her cheeks. “Mr. Merriwell.” “Yes, Miss Darling.” “I am afraid it may seem bold, and I know you think me far too forward now——” “No, no—I protest!” “I can’t help it if you do think so. I can’t be strictly conventional at all times. We are standing in the street, where we must attract more or less notice. There is my carriage. Will you ride with me?” “With pleasure.” The footman in livery held open the door for them to enter, and then that door closed behind them. The dignified footman ascended to his seat, and the coachman started up the horses. The closed carriage rolled away. For some moments Frank and Fanny were silent, both seeming embarrassed. At last, he asked her about the burns she had received, and they chatted in a commonplace way for some time. “Do you know,” he said, “when I heard you scream that night and saw the fire, my heart nearly leaped out of my mouth. I was afraid I could not reach you in time to keep the fire from your face and neck.” “What if you hadn’t! I’m not a raving beauty now, and it would not have damaged my looks very much.” “Don’t say that, Miss Darling! It would have been terrible! And you are pretty! I am sincere!” She gasped for breath. “Really—really, Mr. Merriwell! It’s impossible! Why, there is Mabel!” “I know. She is charming, but to my eyes, you are far prettier. Don’t think I am trying taffy, for I give you my word, Miss Darling, that I am not.” “Why, I—I thought you were dead stuck on Mabel!” cried the wondering girl. “Not that. I like her, and she has treated me very nicely.”