ke me tired!" Philip answered disgustedly. "I never saw any one
so crazy over a girl. There are lots of other things in the world,
Billy, besides girls. I'd hate to think of getting engaged up and having
to train around with just one girl all my life."

"That's because you can't marry Merry,--she's your sister."

"I don't make any exceptions,--Merry's just a girl, like the rest of
them."

"You don't appreciate her, that's all."

"Oh, Merry is all right, of course. She and I have always been good
pals, and we've played together like two boys. She'd make any one a good
wife if he didn't mind being bossed."

Huntington listened to the tilt between the boys with amusement, and yet
with a real feeling of envy. What riches these youths possessed with
life all before them, its mysteries still unexplained, its illusions
still unshattered!

"I thought your sister the finest girl I ever met," he said to Philip,
curious to see what response the boy would make.

"Oh, she wouldn't show that side to you," Philip replied; "it's only
with people her own age."

Huntington winced. There it was again, and again he had brought it upon
himself! To these boys he seemed an antique fossil of humanity, entitled
to respect and veneration! He must appear the same to her. "People of
her own age,"--of course, that was the natural thing as it would appear
to any one. Again he cursed himself inwardly for being fool enough
deliberately to open up the wound.

Billy was delighted to hear his uncle's comment on the girl, and beamed
contentedly.

"You see, Phil," he said, "even Uncle Monty noticed what a corker she
is, and usually he never looks at a girl twice. Uncle Monty is a cynic
on marriage, a woman-hater and all that sort of thing. Yet even he
noticed Merry."

"Don't say that, Billy!" Huntington protested with unusual vehemence.

"But you are," the boy insisted. "The last time I dined here with you
and Mr. Cosden, before you went to Bermuda, I heard you tell him that
many a married man who seemed contented was only resigned."

"That doesn't mean that I'm a 'woman-hater'; I won't stand for it! Be
careful what you say!"

Billy looked at him in amazement. It was a rare thing to see his uncle
ruffled.

"I beg your pardon, Uncle Monty," he apologized. "I didn't intend to
bump any one's feelings. Truly I wasn't joshing at all,--I thought you
meant it! But I'm glad you didn't, for now you'll be more sympathetic
with me, and you can hel