CHAPTER XXVII.

FRANK’S FRIENDS.

“Well done, boy!” cried Hobson, as he swung into the cab. “No man could have done better. But I’ll get it in the neck for being away from the engine. I’ll have to lie about it.”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Frank; “but I think that would be the very worst thing you could do.”

“Hey? Well, you don’t suppose I’m going to tell that I was off to get a drink?”

“Was that why you left the engine?”

“Yes.”

“And you were reading me a temperance lecture a short time before!”

“I told ye what the cursed stuff does for a man. No one knows better than I! Just talkin’ about it made me feel that I must have a swaller. I knew where to get it, and I went after it. It was just my luck to have something happen to show that I was gone.”

Frank felt like preaching a sermon on luck then and there, but refrained.

Hobson wanted to know just how Frank succeeded in stopping the runaway, and Merry told him the story briefly.

“That is bound to fix you all right,” said the engineer. “I’ll bet anything your days as wiper are over.”

He was right. That night Frank was told to come the following morning ready to take a regular job as fireman, while Hobson, who was unable to satisfactorily account for his absence from 91, was laid off.

The wipers were jealous and angry. Some of them sneered at Merry, but the most of them kept still and contented themselves by giving him black looks.

The cause of the runaway was explained by the weak throttle latch-spring, which had been reported over and over again, but had not been replaced, as it should have been. However, somebody had to suffer for it, and the man who had charge of her was the one.

Frank was feeling light-hearted as he walked homeward that night, when, of a sudden, he remembered that little Nell, the blind girl, was ill. He stopped on his way and bought some fruit for her.

The lame boy was sitting at the bedside of his sister when Frank came in. There was an eager look on Nellie’s face, for she had heard and recognized Frank’s step.

“I’m so glad you have come!” she said, weakly, stretching her arms toward him.

He hurried to her, took both her delicate hands in his, and kissed her tenderly.

“How is my little girl to-night?” he asked.

“Oh, I was so tired--so tired of lying here!” she answered. “But I am better now that you have come. It seemed that you were away such a long, long time. It is awfully tiresome to be ill in bed--and blind. Oh, if I could see!”

“You know you are going to be able to see again some time when we get together enough money to have the great specialist treat you.”

“Yes, I know; but this being ill is using up all the money we have saved. Oh, it is such an awful setback!”

“That is worrying her,” said the lame boy, anxiously. “I am afraid it keeps her from getting well as fast as she should.”

“Well, do not let it worry you any more, little girl,” said Frank. “I have been given a new job to-day. I am to be a fireman after this, and I shall get better pay. This money business is coming out all right. All I want of you is to get well as soon as you can, and that for your own sake.”

“But we have no right to take your money--the money you have to work so hard for. No, no; we can’t take that.”

“No, no,” cried the lame boy.

“You leave things to me,” laughed Frank. “It will be all right. Think how lonely I should have been if I had not found you for companions. It is the greatest pleasure I have in life to aid you.”

“But we can’t take your money.”

“No, no!”

“I do not wish you to take it as a gift,” said Merry. “I will loan it to you, you know. It will not be much, anyway. What did the doctor have to say to-day?”

“Oh, he said I was doing well,” answered little Nell. “He said I was not strong, and I came very near having a fever, but I will be all right very soon.”

“Well, that is encouraging. He told me last night that I might bring you some fruit, but you must eat sparingly of it. I bought some as I came home.”

“Oh, how good you are to us!” cried the girl, with a graceful sob. “You have such a kind heart! Once it seemed that the world was full of bad, cruel people; but, since we met you, I know it is not true.”

“No, Nellie, there is far more good in the world than anything else. Human beings are peculiar. Sometimes a person may seem very bad and wicked when all it needs is the right influence to develop in him the most surprisingly noble qualities. Never lose confidence in human nature.”

“That is the way you always talk, Frank, and it makes me feel so hopeful and happy. Before I knew you I was often sad, but no one can be sad where you are.”

“I never permit myself to be sad for any length of time,” declared Frank, “for sadness is one of the greatest causes of failure in the world. The person who is always sad and mournful is shunned in business as well as in society. He is anything but a pleasant companion, and men do not care to deal with him. In almost every case, the real source of sadness is feebleness of the soul, and it is the strong soul that wins in the battle of life. But I am not going to preach.”

“Oh, I love to hear you talk!” declared the girl, still clinging to his hands. “There is always a lesson in what you say. I wonder how it is that you know so much.”

Frank laughed.

“You fancy I know so much, that’s all.”

“No. You never say foolish things.”

Then Frank blushed, for he thought of his college days, and he knew that a thousand foolish things had tripped lightly from his tongue in the badinage that prevailed on many an occasion.

“We are glad you have been promoted, Frank,” said the lame boy. “How did it happen? I am sure you deserved it.”

Then Frank told all about his capture of the wild engine, but he was forced to make the account of the adventure as mild as possible, for little Nell grew very excited over the thrilling parts.

“Oh, I knew you would stop it!” she exclaimed. “It is just like you! You always do such things.”

“I might not if I had been able to get off the main line onto the switch,” laughed Frank.

“Oh, I believe you would--I believe you would have followed and captured the engine.”

Frank felt that it was an inspiration to know some one had such confidence in him. The person who knows brave and noble things are expected of him is more likely to be brave and noble than one who realizes that no one has confidence in him.

Little Jack hopped about getting supper ready, while Frank sat beside the bed and talked to Nellie. While he was near her face bore an expression of perfect contentment and happiness. To him she was just a dear, frail, little child who had found a place in his heart by her innocence and her gentleness. To her he was the one great hero of whom she had dreamed, and she loved and revered him more than words could express.

Sometimes she had longed to ask him many questions about himself, but she had been afraid to do so, and, for the most part, he had remained silent. Now, however, she plucked up courage enough to ask some questions, and Frank told her about his early school days, about his mother who was dead, about his life at Fardale and Yale, and about the two girls, Inza Burrage and Elsie Bellwood, who had been so dear to him.

As he spoke of Inza and Elsie, her hands gripped his fingers a bit tighter, and it seemed that her blind eyes were looking into his with a wistful expression. She showed the deepest interest then, and, when he ceased speaking, she asked him to describe both girls to her.

He did so, telling of Inza first. She listened, seeming to hush her breathing, so eager was she. When he had finished describing Inza’s striking beauty and spirited ways, a sigh escaped the listener’s lips--a sight of relief.

“Ah!” she said, with a faint smile; “you cared for her because she was so handsome.”

“No, no!” cried Frank, quickly. “Inza is a splendid girl. She is a girl of whom any fellow would be proud.”

“I believe that, but still---- Tell me of Elsie.”

Frank hesitated.

“I don’t know how to describe her,” he declared. “She is so different from Inza.”

Then, faltering at first, but growing eloquent as he proceeded, he described the blue-eyed, golden-haired girl who had been Inza’s rival. His voice was full of music and tenderness, and, all unconscious to himself, his words became poetic. As he proceeded, he felt little Nell’s hands trembling in his grasp.

At last he finished, and there was a little silence.

“Frank,” said the blind girl, with something like a sob, “you love Elsie!”