Havener did not find Sargent, much to Frank's relief. It was near morning when the stage manager came into the hotel again, looking weary and worn. The wildlight was gone from his eyes, and, when he saw Frank, he crept up to him almost timidly, falteringly asking:
"Cassie?"
"Sleeping."
That one word seemed to give Havener untold relief. He covered his eyes with his hands for a moment, and then, again peering doubtfully at Merry, he questioned:
"Is there—is there any hope?"
"We all hope for the best."
"May I see her—just for a moment? If she is asleep she will not know. May I see her?"
"I think so. Miss Bird is with her."
"Where is her father?"
"No one knows."
"How is that?"
"He left the hotel shortly after you went out, and has not been seen since."
Together Frank and Havener went up to Cassie's room. Softly Merry tapped on the door, which was soon opened by the leading lady of the company.
"Cassie?" whispered Havener. "I want to look at her—just a moment. I won't disturb her."
Lillian Bird stepped aside to let him come in. Softly he advanced to the bedside, and there he stood looking down at the pale face of the little soubrette. It was then that a faint smile stole over the sad face of the sleeping girl, and she murmured:
"Ross!"
He started, and then he stretched his arms toward her.
She stirred, awoke, saw him, and gladly cried out his name.
An instant later his arms were about her.
"Come away," whispered Frank, drawing Lillian Bird from the room and gently closing the door. "Leave them together a little while."
* * * * * * * *
In the morning Cassie was somewhat better, and old Dan was missing. They searched for the old actor, but did not find him. It was necessary to tell Cassie little falsehoods to keep her from worrying about her father.
The company was stranded at last. Sargent and Cates were gone, and Cassie was ill in bed. They were out of money and could not go on.
Some of the good people of the town heard of their plight, and several ladies visited the sick girl. There was that about her which won their sympathy, and they talked of starting a subscription paper. Frank objected to that.
"It is not charity we need so much as a fair chance to earn some money," he said. "If you will lend us your aid and support, I rather fancy we might get up a benefit performance that would net us something."
The idea seemed all right. It was talked over and plans for such a performance were hurriedly made. Frank got the members of the company together and found out just what they could do, so that a program could be made out.
A quartet was formed, consisting of Merriwell, Dunton, Havener and Holt. Lillian Bird was advertised to "render" some of the popular songs of the day. Hans Dunnerwurst was put down as the great whistling soloist, while Ephraim Gallup was advertised as a trombone soloist. He borrowed an instrument in town. There were fourteen numbers on the program.
Then, to make it all the more effective, a local singer of considerable renown and great popularity volunteered to appear.
All this was advertised as a benefit, under the auspices of the Groton Ladies' Benevolent Society, and the members of the society did all they could to arouse the citizens and make them promise to come out to the "show."
That night the Grand Theater, the use of which was donated free of charge by the manager, was packed, every seat being taken and not a few spectators being forced to stand.
Behind the scenes were gathered a delighted lot of actors and actresses, for their fortune far exceeded their greatest hopes.
"It's all on account of Cassie," said Frank. "Those ladies came and saw her. They are doing this for the poor child. There are some good hearts in this town."
"And money is said to be scarce out here!" exclaimed Basil Holt.
"It is scarce," declared Merry. "Without doubt half those people out there could not afford the price of seats,but the ladies knew how to touch their hearts and their sympathies, and they are here. We get the benefit."
"But where is old Dan?" questioned Dunton.
No one knew. The old actor had not been seen since he left the hotel the night before.
"If Sargent and Cates were here to see this!" exclaimed Lillian Bird. "It would make them sore. And all this comes in to us—every dollar of it! There is no dividend."
"Not with the manager of the house," smiled Frank. "There will be a dividend between us. All shall share alike."
The curtain rolled up and the entertainment began. The first number on the program proved a success, and the audience applauded heartily, making it evident they had come there to be pleased and were determined to be pleased.
As the entertainment progressed the spectators waxed more enthusiastic. They greeted the quartet with a perfect thunder of applause, they gave Dunnerwurst an ovation when he had rendered his imitation of the mocking bird, and they clapped Ephraim Gallup till the Vermonter was crimson in the face and nearly bursting with pride.
"Gosh all hemlock!" spluttered the Yankee, as he came behind the scenes after being called out the fourth time. "Never struck northing like this! Them folks is jest like hum folks! I'd like to settle right daown in this taown if the land wasn't so gol dern flat."
Then Merriwell went out and sang one of the sweetest of the old college songs. His beautiful voice thrilled every listener, and it seemed that the audience scarcely drew a breath. Frank was absorbed by the dear old song, and his handsome face showed intense feeling. His eyes were misty with unshed tears as the memories of the old days—the dear old days—came overwhelmingly upon him.
It was finished, but it seemed that every person in that theater rose and cheered as he bowed himself off. They called him on, and he sang again. Again they called him out. He bowed and retired, but they were not satisfied, and they thundered and stormed till he came out and sang "Stars of the Summer Night." When that was over it seemed that the enthusiasm was even greater that at any time before, and nine times was Frank Merriwell called out before the audience would be satisfied.
It was all over at last, and everyone was declaring it the greatest success ever known in Groton.
The receipts of the evening were heavy, and the hearts of the stranded actors were happy.
But where was old Dan?
* * * * * * * *
The following morning they found him in the river, one mile from town. His arms were clasped in a death lock about the body of another dead man.
"Sargent!" cried Havener, in a thrilling voice, as he looked down at that horror-stricken face. "He has paidthe penalty! I could not have done the work, for Cassie will get well, but old Dan has avenged her!"
Havener was right; Cassie did get well, but not as speedily as he wished.
With the proceeds of the benefit Frank and his friends started for St. Louis and thither we will follow them in the next volume of the series, entitled "Frank Merriwell's Fame."
Cassie was taken to the City Hospital in St. Louis for treatment. Here she was given the very best attention, and with Frank and Havener to cheer her there was every reason to expect that she would be on the way to recovery.
"If she gets well," said Havener, "it will be due to your kindness, Merriwell. Since you took hold here you have shown us all an example of forbearance and unselfishness that will do us more good than a hundred sermons."
And if the sad-faced little soubrette had heard his remarks her eyes would probably have filled with tears of gratitude and she would have said:
"Frank is the best fellow in the world."
A sentiment which all our readers will surely indorse.
THE END.
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