“I beg your pardon; I’d forgotten.”
“Margey wrote that they were both counting the days until Christmas. I’m beginning to look forward to going home, too.”
“Yes. I wish my folks were going to be at home for Christmas. A fellow feels rather out of it if he can’t spend Christmas by his own fireside. As it is, I suppose I’ll go home with Davy for a few days.”
“I wish you’d come with me,” cried Phillip, eagerly.
“Thanks; that’s awfully nice of you. But I don’t believe a chap’s folks care very much about having strangers around at Christmas.”
“Why, mamma and Margey would be awfully pleased,” declared Phillip. “I wish you would come. Of course, we’re not so swell as David, I reckon, but I could show you a good time. We could get up a fox hunt, and maybe there’d be some partridges left. Will you?”
“Hm; you tempt me sorely, my child. But—— Well, we’ll think it over.”
“I’m sure there’ll be some birds,” continued Phillip, “for Margey wrote that Nate Willis was staying there for a few days and that he’d had good shooting.”
“Who’s Nate Willis, may I ask?”