Larry was more baffling.  He was always quiet.  He was quieter than ever to-day.  There was something in his gray eyes which spelled trouble, Tony thought.  What was it?  Was he worried about a case?  Was Granny worse?  Was Ted in some scrape?  Something there certainly was on his mind.  Tony was sure of that, though she could not conjecture what.

The Holidays had an almost uncanny way of understanding things about each other, things which sometimes never rose to the surface at all.  Perhaps it was that they were so close together in sympathy that a kind of small telepathic signal registered automatically when anything was wrong with any of them.  So far as her brothers were concerned Tony’s intuition was all but infallible.

She found the family gift a shade disconcerting, a little later, when after her uncle kissed her he held her off at arm’s length and studied her face.  Tony’s eyes fell beneath his questioning gaze.  For almost the first time in her life she had a secret to keep from him if she could.

“What have they been doing to my little girl?” he asked.  “They have taken away her sunshininess.”

“Oh, no, they haven’t,” denied Tony quickly.  “It is just that I am tired.  We have been on the go all the time and kept scandalously late hours.  I’ll be all right as soon as I have caught up.  I feel as if I could sleep for a century and any prince who has the effrontery to wake me up will fare badly.”

She laughed, but even in her own ears the laughter did not sound quite natural and she was sure Uncle Phil thought the same, though he asked no more questions.

“It is like living in a palace being at Crest House,” she went on.  “I’ve played princess to my heart’s content—­been waited on and feted and flirted with until I’m tired to death of it all and want to be just plain Tony again.”

She slid into her uncle’s arms with a weary little sigh.  It was good—­oh so good—­to have him again!  She hadn’t known she had missed him so until she felt the comfort of his presence.  In his arms Alan Massey and all he stood for seemed very far away.

“Got letters for you this morning,” announced Ted.  “I forgot to give them to you.”  He fished the aforesaid letters out of his pocket and examined them before handing them over.  “One is from Dick—­the other”—­he held the large square envelope off and squinted at it teasingly.  “Some scrawl!” he commented.  “Reckless display of ink and flourishes, I call it.  Who’s the party?”

Tony snatched the letters, her face rosy.

“Give me Dick’s.  I haven’t heard from him but once since he went back to New York and that was just a card.  Oh-h!  Listen everybody.  The Universal has accepted his story and wants him to do a whole series of them.  Oh, isn’t that just wonderful?”

Tony’s old sparkles were back now.  There were no reservations necessary here.  Everybody knew and loved Dick and would be glad as she was herself in his success.