twins over from Dunbury in the car. Phil Lambert and everybody are
waiting down the street. Carlotta too! To think you haven't ever met her,
when she's been my roommate and best friend for two years! And, oh!
Dicky! I haven't seen you myself for most a year and I'm so glad." She
beamed up at him as she made this rather ambiguous statement. "And you
haven't said a word but just 'hello!' Aren't you glad to see me, Dicky?"
she reproached.

He grunted at that.

"About a thousand times gladder than if I were in Heaven, unless you
happened to be sitting beside me on the golden stairs. And if you think I
don't know how long it is since I've seen you, you are mightily mistaken.
It is precisely one million years in round numbers."

"Oh, it is?" Tony smiled, appeased. "Why didn't you say so before, and
not leave me to squeeze it out of you like tooth-paste?"

Dick grinned back happily.

"Because you brought me up not to interrupt a lady. You seemed to have
the floor, so to speak."

"So to speak, indeed," laughed Tony. "Carlotta says I exist for that
sole purpose. But come on. Everybody's crazy to see you and I've a
million things to do." And tucking her arm in his, Tony marshaled the
procession of two down the stairs to the street where the car and the old
Holiday Hill crowd waited to greet the newest comer to the ranks of the
commencement celebrants.

With the exception of Carlotta Cressy, Tony's roommate, the occupants of
the car are known already to those who followed the earlier tale of
Holiday Hill.[1]

[Footnote 1: The earlier experiences of the Holidays and their friends
are related in "The House on the Hill."]

First of all there was the owner of the car, Dr. Philip Holiday
himself, a married man now, with a small son and daughter of his own,
"Miss Margery's" children. A little thicker of build and thinner of
hair was the doctor, but possessed of the same genial friendliness of
manner and whimsical humor, the same steady hand held out to help
wherever and whenever help was needed. He was head of the House of
Holiday now for his father, the saintly old pastor, had gone on to
other fields and his soldier brother Ned, Tony's father, had also gone,
in the prime of life, two years before, victim of typhus, leaving his
beloved little daughter, and his two sons just verging into manhood, in
the care of the younger Holiday.

As Dick and the doctor exchanged cordial greetings, the latter's friendly
eyes challenged the