“Carlotta would come,” Tony was explaining gaily, “though I told her there wasn’t room.  Let me inform you all that Carlotta is the most completely, magnificently, delightfully spoiled young person in these United States of America.”

“Barring you?” teased her uncle.

“Barring none.  By comparison with Carlotta, I am all the noble army of saints, martyrs and seraphim on record combined.  Carlotta is preordained to have her own way.  Everybody unites to give it to her.  We can’t help it.  She hypnotizes us.  Some night you will miss the moon in its accustomed place and you will find that she wanted it for a few moments to play with.”

Philip Lambert had turned around in his seat and was surveying Carlotta rather curiously during this teasing tirade of Tony’s.

“Oh, well,” murmured Carlotta.  “Your old moon can be put up again when I am through with it.  I shan’t do it a bit of harm.  Anyway, Mr. Carson must not be told such horrid things about me the very first time he meets me, must he, Phil?  He might think they were true.”  She suddenly lifted her eyes and smiled straight up into the face of the young man on the front seat who was watching her so intently.

“Well, aren’t they?” returned the young man addressed, stooping to examine the brake.

Carlotta did not appear in the least offended at his curt comment.  Indeed the smile on her lips lingered as if it had some inner reason for being there.

“Hop in, Tony,” ordered Ted with brotherly peremptoriness.  “Carlotta, you are one too many, my love.  You will have to sit in my lap.”

“I’m getting out,” said Phil.  “I’m due across the river.  Want Ted to take the wheel, Doctor?”

“I do not.  I have a wife and children at home.  I cannot afford to place my life in jeopardy.”  The doctor’s eyes twinkled as they rested a moment on his youngest nephew.

“Now, Uncle Phil, that’s mean of you.  You ought to see me drive.”

“I have,” commented Dr. Holiday drily.  “Come on over here, one of you twinnies, if Phil must go.  See you to-night, my boy?” he turned to his namesake to ask as Charley accepted the invitation and clambered over the back of the seat while the doctor took her brother’s vacated post.

Phil shook his head.

“No.  I was in on the dress rehearsal last night.  I’ve had my share.  But you folks are going to see the jolliest Rosalind that ever grew in Arden or out of it.  That’s one sure thing.”

Phil smiled at Tony as he spoke, and Dick, settling himself in the small seat beside Ted, felt a small barbed dart of jealousy prick into him.

Tony and Phil were obviously exceedingly good friends.  They had, he knew, seen much of each other during the past four years, with only a river between.  Phil was Tony’s own kind, college-trained, with a certified line of good old New England ancestry behind him.  Moreover, he was a darned fine fellow—­one of the best, in fact.  In spite of that hateful little jabbing dart, Dick acknowledged that.  Ah well, there was more than a river between himself and Tony Holiday and there always would be.  Who was he, nameless as he was, to enter the lists against Philip Lambert or any one else?