Frank Merriwell's Son A Chip Off the Old Block

Excerpt

A NEW LIFE.

Lizette, the French nurse, came softly and lightly down the stairs and found Frank Merriwell pacing the library floor, while Bart Hodge and Elsie Bellwood talked to him soothingly.

"Madame will see you now, saire," said the nurse, with a little curtsy. "Ze doctaire he is gone now some time. Madame she is comforterbill. She say she see you—alone."

Frank was all eagerness to go. He bounded up the stairs, two at a time, scarcely heeding the white-capped nurse, who hurried after him, softly calling:

"Not on ze rush, saire. You make ze rush, you gif madame ze start."

"That's so," muttered Merry, checking himself at the head of the stairs and waiting for the cautious nurse. "Lizette, lead the way."

The girl, stepping softly as a cat, gently opened a door for him, thus revealing a chamber where the light was softened by drawn window shades. Within that chamber Mrs. Merriwell reclined amid the snowy pillows of a broad bed.

"Ze mastaire is here, madame," said the nurse, as Frank entered.

In a moment Merry was bending over his wife.

Something small and pink, in a soft white garment, nestled on her arm. It uttered a weak little cry—the cry of a new life in the great seething world—which was sweet music to the pale woman on the bed and the anxious man who bent over her.

"Oh, Frank," murmured Inza, "he's calling to you! He knows his father has come."

Merriwell kissed her lightly, softly, tenderly. Then, with that indescribable light in his eyes, he gazed long and fondly at the babe.

"It's a boy, Inza!" he murmured. "Just as you wished!"

"Just as I wished for your sake, Frank," she said. "I knew you wanted a son. This is the happiest moment of my life, for I have given him to you."

"A son!" exclaimed Frank softly, as he straightened up and threw his splendid shoulders back. "Why, think of it, Inza, I'm a father—and you are the dearest, sweetest, handsomest, noblest little mother in all the world!"

The nurse ventured to speak.

"Madame is so well! Madame is so strong! It is wonderful! It is grand!"

"You've been very good, Lizette," said Inza. "We'll not forget it."

The nurse retired to the far end of the room, where she stood with her back toward the bed, pretending to inspect and admire a Donatello upon the wall.

Frank took the chair beside the bed and found Inza's hand, which he clasped in a firm but gentle grasp.

"What shall we name him?" he asked.

"Why, haven't you decided on a name, dear?"

"Without consulting you? Do you think I would do such a thing, Inza?"

"The name that pleases you will please me," she declared. "What shall it be, my husband?"

"Why not the name of my most faithful friend? Why not call him Bartley Hodge Merriwell?"

"If that satisfies you, he shall be called by that name."

Somehow Frank fancied he detected a touch of disappointment in her voice.

"But you, sweetheart—haven't you a suggestion to make?"

"If you would like me to make one."

"You know I would, Inza."

"Then let Hodge be his middle name. Let's call him Frank Hodge Merriwell....