"I know the place," Merry said. "You see, I'm the old settler here, so I'll show you all the attractions. Think of strawberries and cream in January!—Won't you go ahead of us, Mr. Cosden, and ask the boy to put a table out on the piazza? It will be lovely there."
As Cosden moved out of earshot she turned to her companion.
"You must not upset him like that, Billy," she reproved him firmly; "your uncle will never forgive you."
"He has no right to butt in on us," the boy protested gloomily.
"But he's here, and you must be civil to him. Think how much older he is than you are, and you're quarreling with him as if he were your own age."
"Oh, I'll be civil to him if he'll only can his grouch. Why, he got sore with me for kidding him about his age, yet you noticed how old he is yourself."
"He isn't old, Billy. Why, he's younger than Mr. Huntington, isn't he?"
"Perhaps he is; but Uncle Monty always makes you feel that he's your own age. I never think of him any differently than I do of any of my other pals. But Mr. Cosden—ugh!"
"I know, Billy; but you don't want to say anything that will queer you with your uncle, do you?"
Billy looked at her quizzically before he replied, then his broad, good-natured grin replaced the frown.