Billy Potter was one of the oldest friends the Little Shop had had. He was a reporter on a Boston paper, a great favorite with Mr. Westabrook, whom he had many times interviewed; and a devoted friend of Maida’s whom he called Petronilla. It was the first time the children had seen him since Maida left for Europe. He was rather short--Billy Potter--blue-eyed and golden-haired; the eyes very blue and very observant; his hair closely woven into a thick curly thatch. The children alternately hugged and thumped him. “Why haven’t you been here before, Billy?” Maida said, “I’ve been at home two weeks now.” “Only because I wasn’t in Boston,” Billy declared. “I’ve been away on my vacation. I had to take it early this year. I couldn’t have come over here at this moment, but that I’m on a story.” When Billy Potter spoke of a “story,” he meant the account which he wrote of events for his paper. “I’m on a kidnapping case,” he explained over their heads to Mr. Westabrook. “I may be here in Satuit on and off for a few days. And if invited, I might become a guest of this noble establishment.” “Oh do come, oh do, oh do!” the children entreated. “All right,” Billy agreed, “I’m only waiting for an invitation, Petronilla.” “Well here it is,” said Maida. “I accept,” Billy Potter laughed. The children had to take him the rounds too. He wondered at and exclaimed over the vegetable garden. He exclaimed over and wondered at the flower garden. He went in swimming in the Magic Mirror, and showed them many new water tricks. He inspected House Rock with the Little Six. He climbed to the Tree Room with the Big Six. He declared that the Tree Room was where he must sleep. And he did sleep there, although it took all the ingenuity that he possessed, plus the assistance of the three boys, to pull a cot up into it. And while Billy Potter was still a guest, as though, as Maida said, _wonders would never cease_, Dr. Pierce suddenly appeared on the scene. Dr. Pierce was the Westabrook family physician. He had known Maida all her life and called her Pinkwink. He too had often visited the Little Shop; had been one of its advisors. The children deserted Billy for a moment and threw themselves pell-mell on the old physician. He stood braced for the shock which made every one of the tight gray curls on his head quiver and brought the twinkliest of twinkles to his happy old eyes. “Well, _Pinkwink_!” he exclaimed, “is this the little girl who used to have cheeks as white as paper and eyes like a burnt hole in a blanket? And are these those pale, washed-out, colorless, slim-jim-looking city children I used to know?” He hugged all the girls impartially, shook hands with the boys; then he too made the rounds of the place. He played all his old games on them; drawing Betsy out to tell her exploits; listening with great enjoyment to Molly and Timmie; and never ceasing to pretend that Dorothy and Mabel were one girl with a magic power of being in two places at once.