“Didn’t want to know you? Why not, Miss Blaney?” “Oh, because—because—you know,” she faltered, in confusion. “I reckon I ain’t just the sort of girl you would be proud to introduce to your friends. You didn’t meet me under very favorable circumstances, and you must think I’m pretty far down the scale.” “I hope not,” said Merry, quickly. “Still, I know just what you think, and I don’t know that I blame you much. You are different from any show feller I ever met before. I never fancied any of them cared a snap what became of a girl if they could have a good time. None of them ever gave me any good advice before. I never saw one before you who was not ready to catch on and have a racket. Instead of catching on, you gave me a calling down. I knew I deserved it, and it made me feel all the more reckless. I thought I was too far on the road to turn back, and I tried to forget what you said to me; but I couldn’t forget it, and it kept sounding in my ears all the time. I couldn’t run away from the sound; I couldn’t drown it with music and laughter. I saw you looking at me in that sympathizing, pitying way, and, though I tried to laugh at you for a fool, your eyes haunted me. Oh, I tell you I was right miserable after that talk with you. You set me to thinking of mother and home.” “Mother and home!” said Frank, softly. “The two strongest influences for good. How many a wayward wanderer has been reclaimed by thoughts of mother and home!” “If mother had had her way at home I’d never left,” the girl went on. “It was the old man—father, I mean. He drove me away. He didn’t seem to understand me at all. If I made a little mistake, he was so harsh and cruel with me. Why,” she exclaimed, suddenly relapsing into slang under the pressure of excitement, “the old duffer uster be a pretty gay boy himself, and there wasn’t any reason why his daughter shouldn’t take after him. All the same, he never thought of that, but he was dead hard on me.” Frank knew this was the fault of many fathers. They forgot their own younger days and were harsh and hard with their sons or daughters who showed they had inherited certain lively qualities from their parents. “But your mother—for her sake, you must overlook anything from your father.” “Yes, I suppose I ought, but it’s pretty hard sometimes. He’s tried to be so strict with me it’s driven me to do some of the things I have done.” “That is where you are making your mistake. I do not wish to lecture you now, Miss Blaney, and I am going to say no more about it. I am glad I was able to find you that night in St. Jo.” Her eyes began to shine and something like a flush came to her cheeks, which, with satisfaction, Merry observed were now unmarred by paint. “You were brave, Frank Merriwell!” she cried; “just as you seemed to be in the play—just as I knew you were! Those men did not frighten you in the least. You fought the whole crowd like a tiger. But I thought you would be killed till that woman interfered. Who was she?”