"We really like him, and you, too," Ethel said, warmly.
"If you like me you must like her for we are just the same as one," said Gay, whose good spirits had returned.
Just then Aunt Celia, who surmised that a treaty of peace had been arranged, invited them all in to have lemonade and little Queen's cakes. She knew, wise aunt that she was, that nothing cements a treaty like good cheer, and that many a controversy has been buried out of sight in a harmless merry-making. After much laughter and lively talk the boys and girls went away, satisfied with themselves and with Gay. When they were alone May said, soberly,—
"It hasn't been all harm. I have learned to depend upon myself and I should not have done so if I had had you to depend upon."
"I have learned never again to try to be a girl, even in fun!" said Gay, looking ruefully at his arm.
"There is one thing that troubles me, Gay; just what mother will think of us," said May.
For once Gay said nothing in reply. "What would mother think?" It was a question that he could not answer.