Frank Merriwell's Fame — page 15: what you’re looking at

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TIP TOP WEEKLY. 1g his speech beginning to betray that he had drank too much. “T’ll give you a toast.” There was a clinking of glasses. Merry’s glass was filled to the brim with water. When Frank was not looking at it, Lock- well’s hand hovered over the glass a moment. “Here is to Frank Merriwell, author of ‘John Smith of Montana,’ ” cried Folansbee. “You all know Frank Merriwell, and you know he is all right. As an actor he is a ‘wonder, and as a play writer he soon will be classed with Bronson Howard, William Gillette, David Belasco, and the leading American playwrights. Up, everybody—up and drink to Frank Merriwell!” “Hurrah for Frank Merriwell!” was the cry, and the company, rapidly growing bois- terous, rose and flourished their glasses aloft. Elsie, like. Frank, was drinking nothing but water. Merry bowed. He did not flush; his face was strangely pale. “I thank you, Mr. Folansbee,” he said; “and I thank you, my friends, for I hope and believe you are all my friend.s I am sure * it is making it too strong to call me a won- der as an actor, and I am sure it will take years of hard, patient toil for me to rank with Howard, Gillette and Belasco as a writer of plays. Of one thing you may be sure: If I climb the ladder of fame and for- tune, I shall not forget my true friends of these days.” Then there was another cheer, the merry clinking of glasses, and the wine vanished. They sat down, and there was a babel of voices round the table. Frank had swallowed nearly half of the water in his glass. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and looked at the remainder oi the contents suspiciously. “Queer taste to it,” he thought. READ THE LIBERAL Then he called the waiter, nite the glass removed and another brought. Lockwell, at his elbow, grinned behind his napkin—a sneering, triumphant grin. The supper progressed, and the party grew noisier. Everybody seemed trying to talk at once. Elsie Bellwood looked distressed, and Frank was beginning to try to think of some scheme for getting her away from the ta- ble. He did not know how far things might be carried, and already he could»see Elsie was shocked. But there was a queer feeling in Frank’s head; his brain seemed heavy and _ be- fogged and he could not think clearly. He wondered what ailed him. Once he started to get up, but all his body was pervaded by a languidness, and he thought he would wait a bit till the feeling passed from him. “The strain of to-night has been too much for me,” he told himself. Still in a confused way, he reasoned that it could not be, for he was healthy and strong, and he had en- dured more trying things in the old days at Yale, when he was one of the crew or had taken part in some running race. He heard the talk and laughter all round him, but the words of the speakers seemed to run together and the lights were swaying and dancing. With a mighty effort he braced up and took a drink of water. “Aren’t you feeling well, Merriwell?” mur- muréd Lockwell’s voice in his ear. “Yes—no—ah, I’m feeling a little—a lit- tle—queer,” answered Frank, hazily. “T’ll be all right in-a minute.” “A little wine might do you good,” ie Lockwell. ‘No, no nf “Just a swallow,” urged the tempter. “No “As medicine.” OFFER ON PAGE 32. JOO