"All right, boy," Huntington said soberly. "I know you didn't mean anything by what you said, but marriage is a mighty sacred thing and you ought not to speak lightly of it." "How's Mr. Cosden?" Billy asked, eager to get the conversation onto safer grounds. "Well and happy; he dined with me last week." "Say, but he can ride a bicycle!--What did he have against me down at Bermuda?" "He said you covered too much territory." "I don't see where I got in his way, but he was forever butting in on Merry and me. And the way he hustled me off in that little speed-boat! I never had any one take such an interest in my getting back to college on time! That must have cost him quite a bit of kale. I can't understand it." "It was because he is so good a friend of mine," Huntington explained. "He saw a youngster down there who flopped around like a big St. Bernard pup"--Huntington was gratified that his memory still retained Merry's simile,--"and he served the best interests of his friend by keeping you from making a mistake on your latest flop. Doesn't that clear things up?" "As clear as mud," Billy grunted. "I guess I need one of those glass-bottomed boats they use down there to see the spinach and the gold-fish. I could see the gold-fish all right, but the spinach was on me.--That reminds me, Uncle Monty, will you lend me a hundred dollars?" "For what, this time?" "I want to lend it to Phil,--he's broke because his father has cut down his allowance." "Billy!" Philip cried aghast; "I told you that in confidence. I wouldn't think of borrowing money from Mr. Huntington." "How in the world do you expect to get a hundred dollars out of me unless I land Uncle Monty for it?--and he asked, 'for what?' You heard him." "It's all right, Phil," Huntington said reassuringly. "Billy doesn't have any secrets from me because he can't keep them. I would much rather lend the money to you than to him." "That isn't fair," Billy protested. "Phil is sure to pay it back, and I need it." "I don't know what has happened," Philip explained without paying any attention to what his friend was trying to say, "but all of a sudden Dad wrote that I must cut my expenses in two. That's a hard thing to do in a minute, and I don't see why I should do it anyway, for Dad has all kinds of money." "These are hard times in Wall Street, my boy," Huntington answered him, "and many a rich man's son has to cut his corners. If your father has written you that I advise you to follow his instructions. He isn't a man to say it unless he means it.--I'll gladly help you out while you're getting adjusted." "Thank you, Mr. Huntington, but perhaps I won't need it. Even cut in two my allowance is bigger than most of the boys'." "Fathers are so inconsiderate," Billy yawned; "very few of them understand their sons." "A paraphrase of the old saw, Billy," Huntington commented. "To-day we would say that it is a wise stock which knows its own par."