The gate at the end of the long path to the house clicked, and another lad came swinging up the walk, slightly taller than Peter Junior, but otherwise enough like him in appearance to be his own brother. He was not as grave as Peter, but smiled as he hailed them, waving his cap above his head. He also wore the blue uniform, and it was new.
“Hallo, Peter! You here?”
“Of course I’m here. I thought you were never coming.”
“You did?”
Betty sprang from her father’s lap and ran to meet him. She slipped her hand in his and hopped along at his side. “Oh, Rich! Are you going, too? I wish I were you.”
He lifted the child to a level with his face and kissed her, then set her on her feet again. “Never wish that, Betty. It would spoil a nice little girl.”
“I’m not such a nice little girl. I––I––love Satan––and they’re going to––to––supervise my reading.” She clung to his hand and nodded her head with finality. He swung her along, making her take long leaps as they walked.
“You love Satan? I thought you loved me!”
“It’s the same thing, Rich,” said Peter Junior, with a grin.