Frank Merriwell's Pursuit Part 24

A boy of seventeen or eighteen, with his head bare and his hands in his pockets, was standing on the veranda as they approached.

"There's Art now!" exclaimed Mr. Hatch. "h.e.l.lo, Art!"

"h.e.l.lo, dad," coolly responded the boy, without stirring.

"Here, Art, is Mr. Merriwell," said the banker, when they had left the carriage. "Mr. Merriwell, my son."

"How are you, Mr. Merriwell," said Arthur, with a touch of cordiality, as he shook hands with the visitor. "Father has been telling me about you. Says you're a corking fisherman. That was what put you right with him. He's the biggest crank on fishing that I ever saw."

Arthur Hatch was a chap it was not easy to fathom at first sight. He resembled his father slightly, but he was larger and better built, although somewhat too flat across the chest. He seemed to affect a drawl, and the grasp of his hand was not exactly hearty.

They entered the house.

"I'll take care of Merriwell now, father, if you don't mind," said the son. "Perhaps I can entertain him until dinner time."

"You'll find I don't need entertaining," laughed Frank. "I particularly dislike to have any one put himself out to entertain me. I feel easier when no effort is made."

"Come up to my room," invited the boy.

They ascended to Art's room, which was on the second floor, and proved to be almost luxurious.

"Now, make yourself at home, Merriwell," drawled the boy, with an air of familiarity. "There is the bathroom."

Frank removed his coat, pulled back his cuffs, and washed his face and hands, which gave him a feeling of freshness.

In the meantime, on returning to Art's room, he found the boy had produced a flask and gla.s.ses.

"Here's some fine old rye," he said. "We have lots of time to touch it up a little before dinner."

"Excuse me," said Merry, shaking his head.

"Don't you care for rye? Well, I have some bourbon here. Perhaps that will----"

"I'll have to be excused from taking anything."

"Really? It will do you good. You've been having a session with the governor and those Wall Street sharks, and it seems to me you need something after that."

"I don't think I need anything, thank you."

"Well, later on we can have a c.o.c.ktail before dinner. Which do you prefer, a Manhattan, or a----"

Frank was now brought to the point where it was necessary for him to state that he did not drink Manhattans or c.o.c.ktails of any sort.

Young Hatch eyed him with an expression of doubt.

"You don't seem to be stringing me," he said. "Don't you drink at all?"

"No."

"Never?"

"Never."

"I can't understand it," said Arthur. "Everybody drinks nowadays."

"Not everybody. You are mistaken about that."

"Well, there are precious few who don't. Young men who are up to date all take something."

"Then I'll have to confess that I'm not up to date."

"Strange," muttered the youth. "Have a cigarette?"

"I do not smoke them."

"Well, I keep a box of cigars for my friends who do not care for cigarettes. They are----"

"I do not smoke at all."

Arthur sat down, slowly rolling a cigarette between his fingers, eying Merry all the while.

"I didn't believe it," he finally muttered.

"Didn't believe what?"

"I've heard of you, you know, and what I've heard led me to think you a corking chap, one of the boys, you understand."

"I think those who know me well have always considered me 'one of the boys,'" smiled Merry.

"But really a fellow who never drinks nor smokes--why, he can't have any fun!"

"I beg to differ with you on that point. I do not believe any chap ever got more fun out of life than I have."

"Then you used to drink and smoke?"

"Never."

Arthur lighted his cigarette, took several whiffs, staring at Frank all the while, and finally observed:

"When the governor came home and told me about you, he said you didn't touch liquor and didn't smoke; but I sort of fancied you had been playing it clever with him for reasons of your own."

Merry flushed a little.

"In short," he said, "you thought I was fooling him?"

"Well, I thought it rather clever of you, for you were trying to get dad and a lot of those men of dough into some sort of a railroad scheme, and I reckoned you were playing it fine with them."

"That's not my way of doing things."