"I don't know. I can manage Mother and Dad all right, but when it comes to Merry, that's different."
"But she knows I'm coming—" Billy showed signs of feeling aggrieved.
"Oh, she'll probably go all right. Why fuss until we find out? But I don't think she's as crazy about you as you are about her."
"Girls always conceal their real feelings," Billy explained sagely.
"Perhaps," Philip conceded very little; "but Merry isn't like most girls. Sometimes she seems about my own age and sometimes old enough to be my mother. But have it your own way; I should worry."
The welcome was hearty enough to satisfy even Billy, so the pessimism of his friend was at once forgotten. Mrs. Thatcher opened her arms wide to both boys, while Merry, though less demonstrative, was equally cordial in her reception.
"I'm awfully glad to see you," Billy said with a sincerity which could not be doubted, and grinning all over. "It seems ages since Mr. Cosden and Uncle Monty pushed me off the pier down at Bermuda."
Merry laughed. "That was a splendid idea of yours, Billy, to miss the steamer, but I was afraid you couldn't work it."
"S-ssh," Billy placed a finger on his lips. "Don't ever breathe that where Uncle Monty could hear you! I've made him believe it was a real accident."
"We're dining at seven, boys," Mrs. Thatcher interrupted; "that will give us comfortable time to reach the theater."