Merle was the one fly in the ointment in Dick's cheerful anticipations of his visit to the Warners' station. On the Moondarra and in the hotel it had been easy enough to avoid being much with her, since she so clearly showed that she did not desire his company; but in her own home it would be different. They were too near in age, and too similar in tastes, not to be thrown together. That in itself was painful enough, since girls, to Dick, were rather boring creatures, full of queer whims and notions—not plain, straightforward people like Teddy Raine and Bottles and Nugent. But a girl who would not even take the trouble to be civil—that, in Dick's language, was "over the odds." He hoped that her governess would make regular demands upon her time, and grinned to think what would have been Merle's opinion of him, had she guessed at that particular hope.
However, life was too joyful at the moment to allow him to worry over Merle's whims. He began each day with a walk before breakfast with his father; long, brisk walks outside Perth, and long talks that bridged the year of silence that lay behind them. They swung along together, Dick rejoicing that he could now keep in step with his father—a year ago he had to jog if Mr. Lester lengthened his stride; and the father noting the development of his boy's mind as well as of his body, and meeting his questions and his crudely expressed views with a ready sympathy that knitted them more closely together than anything else could have done.
"He's only a baby yet, of course," John Lester said to his wife. "His mind is clean and open and honest; just a child's mind still. But his body—well, he's going to be something of a man, I believe."
"He is, I think," agreed Dick's mother. "And so good looking, John!"
"Oh, that!" He laughed down at her. "You women only think about handsome faces!"
"Indeed, I don't," Mrs. Lester defended herself. "I've been just as keen about his physical training as you have. I wanted him to be strong first of all. But he might have been strong and ugly—and he isn't. And you're just as proud of it as I am!"
"Well—perhaps." He smiled down at her. "But physique comes first; and he certainly has that. His muscles are extraordinarily good for such a kid."
"Fresh air and cold water," said Mrs. Lester solemnly. "That has been Dick's treatment since he was a baby, and it certainly has paid. He hardly knows what medicine is, and he looks the very picture of strength and fitness."
"Thank God!" said her husband hastily.
"Yes, thank God," she agreed. "Why do you say it in that way, John?"