Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Prosperity; or, Toil Has Its Reward онлайн

4 страница из 61

“Is that so?”

“It is. Now you will make your exit in the proper manner.”

Instead of that, Hodge walked off the stage by the tormentor.

Havener did not call him back again, but his face turned pale with anger.

Frank was in a dressing room, and did not hear what took place on the stage between Havener and Hodge.

Deep in his heart Bart felt that he was wrong, but he smothered the feeling, refused to pause to reason, and hurried to the dressing room, where he knew he would find Merriwell.

Frank was laying out his costumes and preparing for the evening performance.

Hodge entered without knocking, and Merry knew in a moment, on looking up, that something was wrong.

“Look here, Merriwell!” he flared.

“What’s the matter, old man?”

“I’ve stood enough of this! It’s the limit!”

“What are you talking about, Bart? What’s the limit?”

“Havener is the limit.”

“I don’t think I understand you, my dear fellow.”

“Don’t ‘dear fellow’ me! I am in no mood to take it now.”

Plainly enough something serious had happened, for Bart was not in the habit of talking that way. Frank straightened up and looked at him steadily without speaking. Bart’s eyes dropped before that gaze, but the sullen look did not leave his face, and he stared at the floor as if glaring at a deadly enemy.