"So do I. Who takes me all over town?"
"That's selfish, Billy. They need me more than you do, then."
"No, they don't either. Who'd take me?"
"Patrick. Besides, you'll take yourself soon, and then you won't want me any more."
There was a little involuntary note of sadness in her tone, and Billy smiled to himself, as he shifted his position to face her.
"What's started you to talking all this flummery, Ted?" he asked bluntly, heedless, in true boy fashion, of the vague aspirations and aims of sweet sixteen. "I thought you had too good sense to get sentimental."
The word stung Theodora, and she started up abruptly.
"Let's go to the shore," she said shortly.
"Aren't you too tired? I am growing fat and heavy, you know."
For a week, now, Billy had been installed at the doctor's, while his mother had been called away by the illness of her only brother. The arrangement suited them all, Billy and Theodora even more than the others. The two friends never seemed to weary of the long hours they spent together, never appeared to be at a loss for subjects of conversation. For the most part, Hubert was with them; but there were times, like the present, when his other friends demanded his whole attention, and Billy and Theodora were left to each other's society. Hope was absorbed in other interests, though she was always kind and considerate of their guest; and, by a tacit consent, Phebe's company was shunned rather than courted.