The little break in the speaker’s voice made Ted turn quickly and stare at the other youth.

“Dick, old chap, is it like that with you?  I didn’t know.”

Ted’s hand went out and held the other’s in a cordial grip.

“Nobody knows.  I—­I didn’t mean to show it then.  It’s no good.  I know that naturally.”

“I’m not so sure about that.  I know one member of the family that would be mighty proud to have you for a brother.”

The obvious ring of sincerity touched Dick.  It was a good deal coming from a Holiday.

“Thank you, Ted.  That means a lot, I can tell you.  I’ll never forget your saying it like that.  You won’t give me away, I know.”

“Sure not, old man.  Tony is way up in the clouds just now, anyway.  We are all mostly ants in our minor ant hills so far as she is concerned.  Gee!  I hope it isn’t this thing about Larry that is going to pull her down to earth.  If anything had to happen to any of us why couldn’t it have been me instead of Larry.  He is worth ten of me.”

“We don’t know that anything has happened to Larry yet,” Dick reminded.  “I say, Ted, they must have got the ivy planted.  Everybody’s coming back.  Tony is lunching with me at Boyden’s right away, and I’ll see that she has her hands full until it is time for the concert.  You warn Miss Carlotta, so she’ll be on guard after I surrender her.  I’m afraid you will have to tell your uncle.”

“I will.  Trot on, old man, and waylay Tony.  I’ll make a mess of things sure as preaching if I run into her now.”

Tony thought she had never known Dick to be so entertaining or talkative as he was during that luncheon hour.  He regaled her with all kinds of newspaper yarns and related some of his own once semi-tragic but now humorous misadventures of his early cub days.  He talked, too, on current events and world history, talked well, with the quiet poise and assurance of the reader and thinker, the man who has kept his eyes and ears open to life.

It was a revelation to Tony.  For once their respective roles were reversed, he the talker, she the listener.

“Goodness me, Dick!” she exclaimed during a pause in what had become almost a monologue.  “Why haven’t you ever talked like this before?  I always thought I had to do it all and here you talk better than I ever thought of doing because you have something to say and mine is just chatter and nonsense.”

He smiled at that.

“I love your chatter.  But you are tired to-day and it is my turn.  Do you know what we are going to do after luncheon?”

“No, what?”

“We are going to take a canoe out on your Paradise and get into a shady spot somewhere along the bank and you will lean back against a whole lot of becoming cushions and put up that red parasol of yours so nobody but me can see your face and then—­”

“Dicky!  Dicky!  Whatever is in you to-day?  Paradise, pillows and parasols are familiar symptoms.  You will be making love to me next.”