Huntington placed his house at the disposal of the Thatchers during Class Day week, and urged them to arrive the Saturday before so that he might show them something of Boston before the college festivities set in. He had corresponded freely with Mrs. Thatcher during the weeks Hamlen had been his guest, sharing with her his own gratification that their joint undertaking proceeded with such promise of success. But each letter she wrote contained some reference to her desire to carry the rejuvenation to a climax.
"Don't let him get too young," she wrote in one, "or Merry won't care for him. She always feels more at home with older men."
In another, accepting Huntington's invitation, she added: "Your suggestion is particularly fortunate as it will give Merry a chance to see Philip Hamlen under ideal conditions."
There was no escape. Mrs. Thatcher still assumed that he was as eager to bring about the match as she herself, and with woman's pertinacity presented the matter to him in such a way that he was forced to act as her ally whether he chose to do so or not. He had no restitution to make to his classmate, he stoutly assured himself, and because a charming woman felt a moral obligation to bring about "poetic justice" there was no reason why he should be stampeded into aiding and abetting a scheme of which he thoroughly disapproved. Huntington reasoned it out logically and conclusively, arrived at a definite determination to have no part in it, and then did the one thing which Mrs. Thatcher most desired by inviting them all to his home. Such is the innate inconsistency of man when he attempts to defeat the plans of a clever woman who always has her way!
Yet, curiously enough, Huntington believed that he was acting on his own initiative, and that this plot of his to have the girl near by, where he could again enjoy her companionship without betraying how much she had become to him, was a triumph of diplomatic genius. He even dreaded lest a refusal of his hospitality should defeat his carefully-laid plans, never realizing that the idea itself had come through the most delicate psychological suggestion between the lines of a letter which touched on every subject but the one in point. Such is the inevitable climax of man's originality when his plans include feminine co-operation!
Hamlen did not again refer to the matter on which he had sought advice until Huntington told him that the Thatchers were to arrive. Then his manner took on that phase which his host knew well, and the old apprehensiveness returned. The change was so noticeable that it could not be passed by without comment.
"Don't you want to see them?" Huntington demanded flatly. "You act as if their coming really frightened you."
"It does," Hamlen admitted frankly.
"Why should it?"