CHAPTER VII.FOOLISH GIRLS.

“Say!”

“What?”

“It’s getting too thin!”

“What’s that?”

“The way mash letters are coming in.”

Bart Hodge smiled faintly.

“I should say it was getting too thick, Frank,” he said.

Frank looked at Bart quickly.

“You are coming all right!” he exclaimed, with satisfaction. “When you can even crack a ghost of a joke like that it is a sign that you are getting to be yourself again.”

“Haw!”

Ephraim Gallup uttered the exclamation. He was sitting near the window of the room looking out into one of the principal streets of St. Joseph.

“Now, what is the matter with you, Ephraim?” Merry asked.

“B’gosh! I thought yeou hed more sense!” drawled the Vermonter.

“Sense? How?”

“Then ter think Hodge is gittin’ like hisself ’cause he tried to crack a joke. It kainder seems ter me he’s gittin’ off his trolley. Did yeou ever hear him crack a joke when he was all right?”

“Don’t know—I don’t remember about it,” confessed Frank, smiling.

“’Course ye don’t. I think it’s a mighty bad sign when Bart Hodge tries ter joke. He must be sick!”

Hodge said nothing. He was sitting astride a chair,with his arms resting on the back and his chin resting on his arms. He looked at Ephraim grimly.

Frank was sitting by a table, opening the mail Ephraim had just brought to him.

“True Blue” was playing a two nights engagement in St. Joseph, having opened the previous night at the Crawford Theater. The house had been packed, and the rattling college play went with a vim that electrified the audience and created a sensation. The manager of the theater had been delighted, and he lost no time in asking for a return date, which, however, Merry was unable to give him, on account of the lateness of the season and the route already booked.

Fortunately, Merriwell had been able to find a man to fill the place of Lester Vance, who had been “released” so abruptly in Atchison.

To Merry’s surprise the night before, the opening night, several handsome bouquets of flowers had been handed to him over the footlights, and one had been thrown at his feet from a box. He saw the person who threw the flowers, in acknowledgment of which he had bowed a bit and smiled, and he observed that she was a decidedly handsome young woman.

To his further surprise, he afterward discovered a slip of paper attached to the bouquet, and on the paper were written Portia’s words, “If you do love me, you will find me out!”

Frank had looked on this as something of a joke, but now, on receiving his morning mail, he was astonished to find in it no less than four “mash notes.”

“It’s evident you have made a hit with the fair sex in this city, Merry,” said Bart.

“He does that ev’rywhere, by gum!” grinned Ephraim; “but they don’t seem quite so forrud in some places. I ruther guess he hit ’em harder than usual here.”

“Here’s one that is a prize!” exclaimed Merry. “Poor girl! She should take a course at a good grammar school.”

He handed the note over to Bart. This is what Hodge read:

“Deer Mr. Merrywall.

“Deer Sur: I seen you last night at the Theeatur, and i was Stuck on you right Hard, you Bet. you are All Right. I never seen Nobody cud touch you When it cums to Good axting. I am Only 17 year Old, but i haiv alwus Wanted to go ontew the stayge. i Would like to Play a Part like cassie Lee plays. i Do wisht you hed a Chanc for me in Your compny. you Are so handsum. oh i cud Love a Man Like you with all my Harte. I Will bee out side of The stayge Doar when you Go in to night. i have Golden hare, and ware a Red hat, with a White fether in it. You will kno Me by that.

“Maggie M.”

“Grammar school!” exclaimed Hodge, as he passed the note on to Ephraim. “She should attend the primary! What a fool she must be!”

“Oh, I dunno!” grunted Ephraim. “She says Frank is all right. There ain’t northin’ foolish abaout that.”

“It is likely the poor girl has had no opportunities,” said Merry. “I am sorry for her.”

“Look out!” warned Hodge. “If you get up a feeling of sympathy for all the females who write you mash notes you’ll be in hot water. Every popular young actor has to dodge girls who want to steal him.”

“By thutter! I’ve notissed some of this comp’ny don’t do mutch dodgin’,” grinned Gallup.

“What do you mean?” asked Frank.

“Waal, they have mashes in ev’ry place they go to.”

“But they do not bother with the girls who get mashed on them?”

“Don’t they!”

“Do they?”

“I guess yes!”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve got eyes.”

Frank frowned a little.

“I do not like to carry round men who will give my company the reputation of being a lot of mashers,” he said, soberly. “Of course there is such a thing as a ‘harmless flirtation,’ but the girl who flirts with a strange actor is very foolish. She is playing with fire, and there is great danger that she will be burned.”

“But you can’t stop it,” said Hodge. “I haven’t been on the road very long, but I have found out that girls everywhere are ready to make fools of themselves over any old thing that is an actor.”

“Why, you haven’t been flirting with them?”

“I rather think not! You know well enough, Merriwell, that I do not take any stock in girls. All the same, I’ve never been in a place yet where I could not have made the acquaintance of girls. Mind, I say girls—not a girl.”

“It’s remarkable that intelligent girls should be so foolish.”

“Foolish is the word for it, Merriwell. And surely most of the girls seem intelligent enough. Some of them are very pretty.”

“And those bright and pretty girls are willing to become acquainted without an introduction with actors of whom they know absolutely nothing! Strange.”

“By gum!” broke in Ephraim. “It does seem that they’ll take any old thing they kin git ef it is an actor.”

Frank shook his head, looking very grave.

“How do they know but they are flirting with married men?”

“Some of um don’t seem to keer a rap.”

“Those must be bad girls, don’t you think, Ephraim?”

“I dunno. Some of um don’t seem so bad.”

“I asked that question to see what you thought about it. I, myself, do not fancy they are bad—all of them. It is simply a case of folly. There is a certain glamour about an actor that robes him with false attractions for light-headed young girls. It makes the most commonplace fellows seem like heroes. No. I do not think all girls who flirt with actors are bad, but I do think they are foolish. It is quite likely they would turn in scorn and repugnance from the very fellows who seem so much like heroes to them could they know the truth about those same heroes. When a theatrical company comes into a place, the girls will turn in many cases from the respectable, honest young men whom they know, and smile and flirt with the members of the company, who are utter strangers to them. In this manner they often acquire undesirable reputations without going to the extreme of doing anything seriously bad. But when a girl injures her reputation in such a manner it is pretty hard for her to win back the ground she has lost. She is regarded with suspicion, she has become a theme of gossip and perhaps she is startled to find that the young men she knows, who have always been polite and respectful, have suddenly grown familiar and forward in their manners toward her. She does not understand this, but she is entirely to blame for it. It is but natural for a young man to think there is something wrong about a girl who will flirt with a strange actor. It is but natural for him to lose in a certain measure his respect for such a girl and become free and easy in his treatment of her. He sees no reason why he cannot be that way if she will laugh and talk with an actor—a man of whom she knows absolutely nothing.”

Hodge nodded.

“It’s plain enough you have thought about this matter, Frank,” he said.

“I have,” declared Merry. “Since going on the road I have thought of it a great deal, for you must know that I have seen how easy it is for a traveling showman to make the acquaintance of pretty girls wherever he goes. I don’t know that I have ever expressed myself on the subject before.”

“Yeou ain’t much of a hand to talk abaout gals,” said Ephraim.

“No, I do not like to say anything about them unless I can say something pleasant. I think girls are the fairest creatures in all the world, but they have their faults, the same as other fair things.”

Hodge smiled sarcastically.

“They’re all faults!” he declared. “I have grown disgusted with them.”

“Oh, you’re a pessimist!” said Frank. “You are too extreme. But I really wish there was some way to warn the young girls of the country against the folly of flirting with traveling actors.”

“There is no way.”

“I am afraid not. They will continue to flirt, as they have in the past, and no end of sorrow and shame will come from it.”

“Some gals do it,” said Ephraim, “because they think they kin hev some fun that way without goin’ too fur.”

“When the first false step is taken no human being can tell where it may lead.”

Hodge nodded. In his heart he knew Frank Merriwell spoke the truth.

“Any girl must know she will be seen by people who know her in case she flirts with a strange actor,” Frank continued. “What does she suppose will be thought of her! If she does not think enough of herself to refrainfrom such dangerous amusement, she should pause to consider what others may think of her. The story will pass from mouth to mouth; it may be elaborated. Perhaps she has passed in good society in her home. Of a sudden she notices that some of her former girl friends are a trifle frigid toward her. Then it is possible some little social event takes place and she received no invitation. She feels hurt and mortified. She may not suspect the truth, and so she goes on doing the very things that have led to her unpleasant situation. Or she may suspect it and say, in anger, that she has done nothing wrong, and so in absolute defiance keeps on as she has begun. In both cases she finds herself dropped from her social circle, and she is forced to seek friends elsewhere. She feels this keenly, but it may make her all the more desperate and defiant, so that she carries her flirtations with strangers further than she otherwise would. In her anger and desperation she may grow very reckless, which may lead to her utter shame and disgrace.”

“Darn it, Frank!” cried Ephraim, “ef the gals could hear yeou talk, I ruther guess they’d be keerful. But they can’t hear ye, so haow be yeou goin’ to do um any good?”

“I have thought of writing a play about it, or a book. If I wrote a book, it should be a novel and its title should be, ‘Harmless Flirting.’”

“You would waste your time, Merriwell,” said Hodge. “Your book would not be read by the ones for whom you wrote it. Such light-headed girls seldom read anything.”

“I am afraid you are right,” confessed Merry. “I am afraid girls will go on flirting with actors and strangers to their own sorrow and remorse.”

Frank picked up one of the letters from the table.

“Now here is something from a girl for whom I am sorry,” he said.

He read it aloud:

“Dear Mr. Merriwell: I suppose you will think me very foolish to write to you, but I saw you in your beautiful play ‘True Blue,’ last night, and I was perfectly charmed. It is a lovely play, and you act the part ofDick Trueheartin a just perfectly splendid manner. My brother Tommy says you are a real Yale college man, and that you are just a peach. Tommy is fourteen. I am sixteen, but I’m real large for my age, so almost everybody thinks I am eighteen. I am going to see you again to-night. I wish I knew you. I think you must be awfully nice. I think actors are lovely, but papa says they are no good. He is a cross old patch. My mother is dead. I hope to go on the stage sometime and become a great actress, and wear diamonds and have flowers passed me over the footlights. I inclose a knot of blue and white ribbon. If you will wear it on your baseball uniform to-night I shall know you would like to become acquainted with me, and I will find a way to let you know my address before you leave St. Joseph. Oh, I do hope you will wear it! From your sincere admirer,

“Dora.”

“Waal, by gum! she’s hit hard!” grinned Ephraim.

“She’s another little fool!” sneered Hodge.

“Now, I am sorry for Dora,” declared Frank. “Her little head is full of false notions, and she is very liable to make a big mistake on that very account. I wish I might warn Dora.”

“You can by wearing that knot of ribbon and becoming acquainted with her.”

“That is the very thing I will not do. I do not believe in becoming acquainted in such a manner.”

“Then yeou ain’t goin’ to wear the ribbon?” asked Ephraim.

“Certainly not!”

“B’gosh! yeou’d better let me wear it!”

Frank looked at the Vermont youth in surprise.

“You, Ephraim?” he cried. “What’s struck you? It doesn’t seem that my talk of a few minutes ago impressed you much.”

“Oh, I’m only jokin’,” protested Gallup, sheepishly.

Frank picked up another letter.

“Now, here is one that makes me weary!” he said, with a show of repugnance. “Listen:

“‘Mr. Frank Merriwell.

“‘Dear Old Chappie: If you want to become acquainted with a jolly girl, meet me to-morrow at 2 P. M. in front of the theater. You will know me by the white pinks I will wear. Don’t be afraid to catch on.

“‘Daisy.’”

“She must be gay, by jee!” gasped Ephraim.

“Bah!” cried Frank, tearing up the letter and flinging it down.

He took another from the table.

“Here,” he said, “is the most foolish one of the lot, for it is from a person who should know better.”

“How do you know whom it is from?” asked Hodge.

“I saw her last night. She was the one who flung the flowers from the box.”

“I noticed her. A stunning woman.”

“Yes, a handsome woman, twenty-five years old, at least. Listen to this:

“‘If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;Or if thou think’st I am too quickly won,I’ll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay,So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.I should have been more strange, I must confess,But that thou overheard’st, ere I was ’ware,My true love’s passion; therefore pardon me;And not impute this yielding to light love.And all my fortune at thy foot I’ll lay,And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world.’”

“‘If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;Or if thou think’st I am too quickly won,I’ll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay,So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.

“‘If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;

Or if thou think’st I am too quickly won,

I’ll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay,

So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.

I should have been more strange, I must confess,But that thou overheard’st, ere I was ’ware,My true love’s passion; therefore pardon me;And not impute this yielding to light love.

I should have been more strange, I must confess,

But that thou overheard’st, ere I was ’ware,

My true love’s passion; therefore pardon me;

And not impute this yielding to light love.

And all my fortune at thy foot I’ll lay,And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world.’”

And all my fortune at thy foot I’ll lay,

And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world.’”

“Great ginger!” gasped Ephraim. “Did a female woman write that stuff to yeou, Frank?”

“That is not all,” said Merry. “She has ended, like the others, by trying to make an appointment with me.”

“It seems to be getting pretty hot, Frank,” said Bart.

“Too hot,” declared Merry, plainly annoyed. “I don’t like it at all.”

“Most actors would like it. They would be in their glory.”

“Then I am glad I’m not like most actors.”

“Yeou alwus was pop’ler with the ladies,” grinned the Vermont youth.

“I don’t mind being popular with the ladies, but I do not fancy this kind of popularity.”

“You’d never do for a matinée hero,” said Hodge. “I have heard that they are deluged with mash notes. It gets to be a common thing with them, and they don’t mind it at all.”

“I don’t like to see such a display of weakness on the part of human beings. Now, what does this woman who has quotedJulietto me know about me?”

“As much as you know about her.”

“And she has taken chances of becoming a laughingstock and object of ridicule by writing me such stuff. For all she knows, I may be married.”

“And, for all you know, she may be married.”

“I do not believe that is possible. No married woman would write such a letter.”

“Wouldn’t? Oh, I don’t know! Some of them are inclined to be rather gay.”

“If this one is married, she must be crazy.”

There came a knock on the door.

“Come,” Merry called.

The door opened, and a bell boy stood there.

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