"Huntington left out a whole lot of things he might have touched on," Cosden said testily. "That's a topic on which we don't agree, and never shall. There is a boy with many sterling qualities going to waste because Monty has more wishbone than backbone in the matter of discipline."
"Don't get started on that, Connie," Huntington's voice came from the rear. "I've no doubt it's deserved, but that boy keeps me from remembering that my own days of irresponsibility are so far behind me. I believe I enjoy him the more because I haven't a parent's duty to perform."
"It's a sort of reciprocity without personal liability," laughed Thatcher.
"Exactly. I wonder sometimes if what we gain by experience is worth what we lose in illusion.—Aren't you coming up-stairs to dress for dinner, Billy?" Huntington continued, as his nephew and Merry walked past them, engaged in an animated conversation.
"Don't wait for me," was the prompt response. "I'm a bear at dressing, and I'll be ready before Dixon has put in your collar-studs."
"I feel easier down here since I know that you're off duty, too, and not likely to upset my apple-cart while I'm away," Thatcher remarked to Cosden with a smile. "Did you know, Mr. Huntington," he continued, turning, "that your friend is a wrecker of other men's plans?"
"It's the best thing he does," Huntington agreed promptly. "That exactly explains my presence here."
Cosden was immensely pleased by Thatcher's acknowledgment of his importance, but he tried to carry it off lightly.
"Oh, well," he said indifferently, "you must let me have my innings once in a while. I have to get to you sometimes to make up for other bouts which I've been glad to forget."
"You'll join us, of course," Thatcher added, to Huntington.