Hodge laughed sarcastically. “I’d like to know what you take me for!” he cried. “Are you trying to insult me, Frank?” “You know better!” “Do you imagine I’m a fool?” “No.” “Well, then, don’t ever make me such an offer again. You know what I think of those chaps who accepted the checks you sent them. You know I believe that treasure belonged entirely to you, and no other had a right to a dollar of it. Do you take me for a fellow who would accept from you a gift of four thousand dollars? Well, that’s what you propose to make me—nothing more, nothing less. It won’t go with me, Merriwell. I do not thank you for the offer, for you should have known better than to make it. Go back to Yale. I wish you good fortune—I wish you everything you desire. I will go my way in the world; you’ll go yours. It must come to that in time, anyhow. What odds if it comes sooner than we had anticipated! You have taken an interest in me, Frank, and your friendship is the pleasantest memory of my life; but even that must become a mere memory sometime.” “There is no reason why it should become a mere memory while life shall last,” said Frank, soberly. “Though fate may divide us, still our friendship should remain firm and unshaken. As for your return to Yale, I’m not going to say anything more about it now, but I shall not give it up.” 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. “Perchance thou wouldst send me down to see the fair damsel—but I doubt it,” murmured Dunton. “No,” said Frank, “I think I had better go down myself.” He went down to the door and found the girl who was waiting there. He was surprised to see her standing with her head bowed, in an attitude of apparent dejection and shame. “Did you wish to see me, miss?” he asked. She nodded her head, but did not look up, not a little to his perplexity and wonderment. “I am here.” “Mr. Merriwell,” she murmured, “I have come to thank you.” “To thank me?” exclaimed Merry. “For what?” “For your kindness to me in St. Joseph.” Frank’s heart dropped. “Good gracious!” he thought. “Has she followed us from St. Jo.?” Then the girl looked up, and he recognized her. “Daisy Blaney!” he exclaimed. “Why, I didn’t know you!” No wonder he had not recognized the bold, saucy, reckless girl in this meek, abashed, low-spoken maiden. “Yes, Daisy Blaney,” she said. “I thought perhaps you did not want to know me, and I did not wonder much.”