Her Father's Daughter Part 10

"Neither," said Linda. "Come upstairs with me, and in the storeroom you'll find the lunch case and the thermos bottles and don't stint yourself, Katy. This is a rare occasion. It never happened before.

Probably it will never happen again. Let's make it high alt.i.tude while we are at it."

"I'll do my very best with what I happen to have," said Katy; "but I warn you right now I am making a good big hole in the Sunday dinner."

"I don't give two whoops," said Linda, "if there isn't any Sunday dinner. In memory of hundreds of times that we have eaten bread and milk, make it a banquet, Katy, and we'll eat bread and milk tomorrow."

Then she took the stairway at a bound, and ran to her room. In a very short time she emerged, clad in a clean blouse and breeches' her climbing boots, her black hair freshly brushed and braided.

"I ought to have something," said Linda, "to shade my eyes. The glare's hard on them facing the sun."

Going down the hall she came to the storeroom, opened a drawer' and picked out a fine black felt Alpine hat that had belonged to her father.

She carried it back to her room and, standing at the gla.s.s, tried it on, pulling it down on one side, turning it up at the other, and striking a deep cleft across the crown. She looked at herself intently for a minute, and then she reached up and deliberately loosened the hair at her temples.

"Not half bad, all things considered, Linda," she said. "But, oh, how you do need a tich of color."

She ran down the hall and opened the door to Eileen's room, and going to her chiffonier, pulled out a drawer containing an array of gloves, veils, and ribbons. At the bottom of the ribbon stack, her eye caught the gleam of color for which she was searching, and she deftly slipped out a narrow scarf of Roman stripes with a deep black fringe at the end. Sitting down, she fitted the hat over her knee, picked up the dressing-table scissors, and ripped off the band. In its place she fitted the ribbon, pinning it securely and knotting the ends so that the fringe reached her shoulder. Then she tried the hat again. The result was blissfully satisfactory. The flash of orange, the blaze of red, the gleam of green, were what she needed.

"Thank you very much, sister mine," she said, "I know you I would be perfectly delighted to loan me this."

CHAPTER IX. One Hundred Per Cent Plus

Then she went downstairs and walked into the kitchen, prepared for what she would see, by what she heard as she approached.

With Katy's ap.r.o.n tied around his waist, Donald Whiting was occupied in squeezing orange, lemon, and pineapple juice over a cake of ice in a big bowl, preparatory to the compounding of Katy's most delicious brand of fruit punch. Without a word, Linda stepped to the bread board and began slicing the bread and building sandwiches, while Katy hurried her preparations for filling the lunch box. A few minutes later Katy packed them in the car, kissed Linda good-bye, and repeatedly cautioned Donald to make her be careful.

As the car rolled down the driveway and into the street, Donald looked appraisingly at the girl beside him.

"Is it the prevailing custom in Lilac Valley for young ladies to kiss the cook?" inquired Donald laughingly.

"Now, you just hush," said Linda. "Katy is NOT the cook, alone. Katy's my father, and my mother, and my family, and my best friend--"

"Stop right there," interposed Donald. "That is quite enough for any human to be. Katy's a mult.i.tude. She came out to the car with the canteen, and when I offered to help her, without any 'polly foxin',' she just said: 'Sure. Come in and make yourself useful.' So I went, and I am expecting amazing results from the job she gave me."

"Come to think of it," said Linda, "I have small experience with anybody's cooking except Katy's and my own, but so far as I know, she can't very well be beaten."

Carefully she headed the car into the garage adjoining the salesrooms.

There she had an ovation. The manager and several of the men remembered her. The whole force cl.u.s.tered around the Bear Cat and began to examine it, and comment on it, and Linda climbed out and asked to have the carburetor adjusted, while the mechanic put on a pair of tires. When everything was satisfactory, she backed to the street, and after a few blocks of experimental driving, she headed for the Automobile Club to arrange for her license and then turned straight toward Multiflores Canyon, but she did not fail to call Donald Whiting's attention to every beauty of Lilac Valley as they pa.s.sed through. When they had reached a long level stretch of roadway leading to the canyon, Linda glanced obliquely at the boy beside her.

"It all comes back as natural as breathing," she said. "I couldn't forget it any more than I could forget how to walk, or to swim. Sit tight. I am going to step on the gas for a bit, just for old sake's sake."

"That's all right," said Donald, taking off his hat and giving his head a toss so that the wind might have full play through his hair. "But remember our tires are not safe. Better not go the limit until we get rid of these old ones, and have a new set all around."

Linda settled back in her seat, took a firm grip on the wheel, and started down the broad, smooth highway, gradually increasing the speed.

The color rushed to her cheeks. Her eyes were gleaming.

"Listen to it purr!" she cried to Donald. "If you hear it begin to growl, tell me."

And then for a few minutes they rode like birds on the path of the wind.

When they approached the entrance to the canyon, gradually Linda slowed down. She turned an exultant flas.h.i.+ng face to Donald Whiting.

"That was a whizzer," said the boy. "I'll tell you I don't know what I'd give to have a car like this for my very own. I'll bet not another girl in Los Angeles has a car that can go like that."

"And I don't believe I have any business with it," said Linda; "but since circ.u.mstances make it mine, I am going to keep it and I am going to drive it."

"Of course you are," said Donald emphatically. "Don't you ever let anybody fool you out of this car, because if they wanted to, it would be just because they are jealous to think they haven't one that will go as fast."

"There's not the slightest possibility of my giving it up so long as I can make the engine turn over," she said. "I told you how Father always took me around with him, and there's nothing in this world I am so sure of as I am sure that I am spoiled for a house cat. I have probably less feminine sophistication than any girl of my age in the world, and I probably know more about camping and fis.h.i.+ng and the scientific why and wherefore of all outdoors than most of them. I just naturally had such a heavenly time with Daddy that it never has hurt my feelings to be left out of any dance or party that ever was given. The one thing that has hurt is the isolation. Since I lost Daddy I haven't anyone but Katy.

Sometimes, when I see a couple of nice, interesting girls visiting with their heads together, a great feeling of envy wells up in my soul, and I wish with all my heart that I had such a friend."

"Ever try to make one?" asked Donald. "There are mighty fine girls in the high school."

"I have seen several that I thought I would like to be friends with,"

said Linda, "but I am so lacking in feminine graces that I haven't known how to make advances, in the first place, and I haven't had the courage, in the second."

"I wish my sister were not so much older than you," said Donald.

"How old is your sister?" inquired Linda.

"She will be twenty-three next birthday," said Donald; "and of all the nice girls you ever saw, she is the queen."

"Yes," she a.s.sented, "I am sure I have heard your sister mentioned. But didn't you tell me she had been reared for society?"

"No, I did not," said Donald emphatically. "I told you Mother j believed in dressing her as the majority of other girls were dressed, but I didn't say she had been reared for society. She has been reared with an eye single to making a well-dressed, cultured, and gracious woman."

"I call that fine," said Linda. "Makes me envious of you. Now forget everything except your eyes and tell me what you see. Have you ever been here before?"

"I have been through a few times before, but seems to me I | never saw it looking quite so pretty."

Linda drove carefully, but presently Donald uttered an exclamation as she swerved from the road and started down what appeared to be quite a steep embankment and headed straight for the stream.

"Sit tight," she said tersely. "The Bear Cat just loves its cave. It knows where it is going."

She broke through a group of young willows and ran the car! into a tiny plateau, walled in a circle by the sheer sides of the! canyon reaching upward almost out of sight, topped with great jagged overhanging boulders. Crowded to one side, she stopped the car and sat quietly, smiling at Donald Whiting.

"How about it?" she asked in a low voice.

The boy looked around him, carefully examining the canyon walls, and then at the level, odorous floor where one could not step without crus.h.i.+ng tiny flowers of white, cerise, blue, and yellow. Big ferns grew along the walls, here and there "Our Lord's Candles" lifted high torches not yet lighted, the ambitious mountain stream skipped and circled and fell over its rocky bed, while many canyon wrens were singing.

"Do you think," she said, "that anyone driving along here at an ordinary rate of speed would see that car?"

"No," said Donald, getting her idea, "I don't believe they would."

"All right, then," said Linda. "Toe up even and I'll race YoU to the third curve where you see the big white sycamore."

Donald had a fleeting impression of a flash of khaki, a gleam of red, and a wave of black as they started. He ran with all the speed he had ever attained at a track meet. He ran with all his might. He ran until his sides strained and his breath came short; but the creature beside him was not running; she was flying; and long before they neared the sycamore he knew he was beaten, so he laughingly cried to her to stop it. Linda turned to him panting and laughing.