“She’s in love with him, too, so it won’t do you any good to waste your time. Don’t get to mooning round her. She’s aware that you are interested, and I think it’s beginning to annoy her. I have a fancy that’s one reason why both girls are sticking so close to their room to-night. They’re keeping away from you.” “They don’t have to!” he muttered, his pride touched and his cheeks hot. Then he wandered off by himself, turned on the electric light in the little reading room back of the parlor, flung himself on a leather-covered Morris chair and studied for an hour. Finally his thoughts wandered from his studies and he dropped the book. His eyes had begun to smart and burn, and he turned off the light. The doorbell rang. It was answered by a colored maid, and two young men entered. They gave the colored girl their cards, and she told them to step into the parlor and wait. The sliding door between the parlor and the little room occupied by Fillmore was partly open. He caught a glimpse of the two visitors and saw that both were fine-looking fellows. One had dark hair and eyes. The other sat down where Fred could see him. The light fell full on his face, and the youth on the Morris chair noted its unusual strength and manly beauty. The longer he gazed at that face the more deeply he was impressed by a conviction that the young man was a person of great ability and force who was destined to make a mark in the world. “This will be a great surprise for the girls,” said the one of the dark hair. He of the fine face smiled, and his smile was fully as wonderful as the face which it lighted. “They will be more than surprised,” he said. A few moments there came a rustling on the carpeted stairs. With a rush that was little short of a run, Inza Burrage came down, followed a little later by Elsie Bellwood. Inza, her eyes shining like twin stars, her cheeks aglow, entered the room. The youth of the fine face sprang toward her and she was clasped in his arms. “Inza!” he cried, his voice hoarse with deep feeling. “Frank!” she answered. “Oh, Frank! Frank!” He kissed her again and again. Fred Fillmore started up, feeling in his bosom a terrible sensation that he had never before experienced. He could not bear to see her held thus in those strong arms and kissed in that manner. In his heart something seemed ready to burst. For a moment he stood with his hands clenched, longing to rush in there and tear her from the man. Then he turned away and fled with noiseless steps. “That’s the man!” hissed Fillmore, as he found his way to the rear of the house and ascended the back stairs. “That’s Merriwell!” He was astounded by his own emotions. He felt himself quivering from head to feet. Reaching his own room by way of the back stairs, he paced excitedly up and down.