"Oh, for a golf-skirt and a bag of clubs!" the girl cried. "When may I play this adorable course?"
"To-morrow morning," Huntington replied promptly, "if my guests permit me to provide them with other entertainment. After to-morrow I must give you up to those most exalted of personages, the Seniors."
"I'd love to play this course," Merry said gratefully,—"but you're going over for Class Day, aren't you?"
"Yes; but we old grads don't count as against the Seniors. They are the heroes and we bend the knee. On Thursday we shall walk respectfully up to the graduating class, bow politely, and say, 'We who are about to die, salute you'!"
Merry laughed gaily. "Then, the next day, these heroes jump down off their pedestals, walk respectfully up to the old grads, bow politely, and say, 'Please give us a job'!"
"Don't be an iconoclast, Miss Merry," Huntington retorted. "These boys may be looking for jobs, but they are richer than any of us: they have youth, and life is before them."
"Grandpa!" the girl laughed mischievously.
"I sha'n't let you call me that!" he cried, really piqued.
"Then don't be so unfair to yourself!" she retaliated; "you are the youngest 'old' man I ever met!"