Her Father's Daughter Part 34

"Katy," said Linda, sobering suddenly, "would it make any great difference to you if I were the only one here for always, after this?"

Katy laughed contemptuously.

"Well, I'd warrant to survive it," she said coolly.

"But that is exactly what I must tell you, Katy," said Linda soberly.

"You know I have told you a number of times through these years that I did not believe Eileen and I were sisters, and I am telling you now that I know it. She did not come to the bank today, and the settlement of Father's affairs developed the fact that I was my father's child and Eileen was her mother's; and I'm thinking, Katy, that the big car you saw and the opulent people in it were Eileen's mother's wealthy relatives from San Francisco. My guess is, Katy, that Eileen has gone with them for good. Lock her door and don't touch her things until we know certainly what she wants done with them."

Katy stood thinking intently, then she lifted her eyes to Linda's.

"Lambie," she whispered softly, "are we ixpicted to go into mourning over this?"

A mischievous light leaped into Linda's eyes.

"Well, if there are any such expectations abroad, Katherine O'Donovan,"

she said soberly, "the saints preserve 'em, for we can't fulfill 'em, can we, Katy?"

"Not to be savin' our souls," answered Katy heartily. "I'm jist so glad and thankful that I don't know what to do, and it's such good news that I don't belave one word of it. And while you're talkie', what about John Gilman?"

"I think," said Linda quietly, "that tonight is going to teach him how Marian felt in her blackest hours."

"Well, he needn't be coming to me for sympathy," said Katy. "But if Miss Eileen has gone to live with the folks that come after her the day, ye might be savin' a wee c.r.a.p o' sympathy for her, lambie. They was jist the kind of people that you'd risk your neck slidin' down a mountain to get out of their way."

"That is too bad," said Linda reflectively; "because Eileen is sensitive and constant contact with cra.s.s vulgarity certainly would wear on her nerves."

"Now you be goin' and gettin' into that dress, lambie," said Katy.

"Katherine O'Donovan," said Linda, "you're used to it; come again to confession. Tell me truly where and how did you get that dress?"

"'Tain't no rule of polite society to be lookin' gift horses in the mouth," said Katy proudly. "HOW I got it is me own affair, jist like ye got any gifts ye was ever makin' me, is yours. WHERE I got it? I went into the city on the strafe car and I went to the biggest store in the city and I got in the elevator and I says to the naygur: 'Let me off where real ladies buy ready-to-wear dresses.'

"And up comes a little woman, and her hair was jist as soft and curling round her ears, and brown and pretty was her eyes, and the pink that G.o.d made was in her cheeks, and in a voice like runnin' water she says: 'Could I do anything for you?' I told her what I wanted. And she says: 'How old is the young lady, and what's her size, and what's her color?'

Darlin', ain't that dress the answer to what I told her?"

"Yes," said Linda. "If an artist had been selecting a dress for me he would probably have chosen that one. But, old dear, it's not suitable for me. It's not the kind of dress that I intended to wear for years and years yet. Do you think, if I put it on tonight, I'll ever be able to go back to boots and breeches again, and hunt the canyons for plants to cook for--you know what?"

Katy stood in what is commonly designated as a "brown study." Then she looked Linda over piercingly.

"Yes, ma'am," she said conclusively. "It's my judgment that ye will. I think ye'll maybe wrap the braids of ye around your head tonight, and I think ye'll put on that frock, and I think ye'll show Pater Morrison how your pa's daughter can sit at the head of his table and entertain her friends. Then I think ye'll hang it in your closet and put on your boots and breeches and go back to your old Multiflores and attind to your business, the same as before."

"All right, Katy," said Linda, "if you have that much faith in me I have that much faith in myself; but, old dear, I can't tell you how I LOVE having a pretty dress for tonight. Katy dear, the 'Day of Jubilee' has come. Before you go to sleep I'm coming to your room to tell you fine large secrets, that you won't believe for a minute, but I haven't the time to do it now."

Then Linda raced to her room and began dressing. She let down the mop of her hair waving below her waist and looked at it despairingly.

"That dress never was made for braids down your back," she said, glancing toward the bed where it lay s.h.i.+mmering in a ma.s.s of lovely color. "I am of age today; for state occasions I should be a woman. What shall I do with it?"

And then she recalled Katy's voice saying: "Braids round your head."

"Of course," said Linda, "that would be the thing to do. I certainly don't need anything to add to my height; I am far too tall now."

So she parted her hair in the middle, brushed it back, divided it in even halves, and instead of braiding it, she coiled it around her head, first one side and then the other.

She slipped into the dress and struggled with its many and intricate fastenings. Then she went to the guest room to stand before the full-length mirror there. Slowly she turned. Critically she examined herself.

"It's a bit shorter than I would have ordered it," she said, "but it reduces my height, it certainly gives wonderful freedom in walking, and it's not nearly so short as I see other girls wearing."

Again she studied herself critically.

"Need some kind of ornament for my hair," she muttered, "but I haven't got it, and neither do I own beads, bracelet, or a ring; and my ears are sticking right out in the air. I am almost offensively uncovered."

Then she went down to show herself to a delighted Katy. When the doorbell rang Linda turned toward the hall. Katy reached a detaining hand.

"You'll do nothing of the sort," she said. "I answered the bell for Miss Eileen. Answer the bell I shall for you."

Down the hall went Katy with the light of battle in her eyes and the air of a conqueror in the carriage of her head. She was well trained.

Neither eyelid quivered as she flung the door wide to Peter Morrison.

He stood there in dinner dress, more imposing than Katy had thought he could be. With quick, inner exultation she reached for two parcels he carried; over them her delight was so overpowering that Peter Morrison must have seen a hint of it. With a flourish Katy seated him, and carried the packages to Linda. She returned a second later for a big vase, and in this Linda arranged a great sheaf of radiant roses. As Katy started to carry them back to the room, Linda said "Wait a second," and selecting one half opened, she slipped it out, shortened the stem and tucked it among the coils of hair where she would have set an ornament.

The other package was a big box that when opened showed its interior to be divided into compartments in each of which nestled an exquisite flower made of spun sugar. The petals, buds, and leaves were perfect. There were wonderful roses with pale pink outer petals and deeper-colored hearts. There were pink mallows that seemed as if they must have been cut from the bushes bordering Santa Monica road. There were hollyhocks of white and gold, and simply perfect tulips. Linda never before had seen such a treasure candy box. She cried out in delight, and hurried to show Katy. In her pleasure over the real flowers and the candy flowers Linda forgot her dress, but when she saw Peter Morrison standing tall and straight, in dinner dress, she stopped and looked the surprise and pleasure she felt. She had grown accustomed to Peter in khaki pottering around his building. This Peter she never before had seen. He represented something of culture, something of pride, a conformity to a nice custom and something more. Linda was not a psychoa.n.a.lyst.

She could not see a wonderful aura of exquisite color enveloping Peter.

But when Peter saw the girl approaching him, transformed into a woman whose s.h.i.+ning coronet was jewelled with his living red rose, when he saw the beauty of her lithe slenderness clothed in a soft, flaming color, something emanated from his inner consciousness that Linda did see, and for an instant it disturbed her as she went forward holding out her hands.

"Peter," she said gaily, "do you know that this is my Day of Jubilee? I am a woman today by law, Peter. Hereafter I am to experience at least a moderate degree of financial freedom, and that I shall enjoy. But the greatest thing in life is friends."

Peter took both the hands extended to him and looked smilingly into her eyes.

"You take my breath," he said. "I knew, the first glimpse I ever had of you scrambling from the canyon floor, that this transformation COULD take place. My good fortune is beyond words that I have been first to see it. Permit me, fair lady."

Peter bent and kissed both her hands. He hesitated a second, then he turned the right hand and left one more kiss in its palm.

"To have and to hold!" he said whimsically.

"Thank you," said Linda, closing her fist over it and holding it up for inspection. "I'll see that it doesn't escape. And this minute I thank you for the candy, which I know is delicious, and for my very first sheaf of roses from any man. See what I have done with one of them?"

She turned fully around that he might catch the effect of the rose, and in getting that he also got the full effect of the costume, and the possibilities of the girl before him. And then she gave him a shock.

"Isn't it a lovely frock?" she said. "Another birthday gift from the Strong rock of ages. I have been making a collection of rocks for my fern bed, and I have got another collection that is not visible to anyone save myself. Katy's a rock, and you're a rock, and Donald is a rock, and Marian's a rock, and I am resting securely on all of you. I wish my father knew that in addition to Marian and Katy I have found two more such wonderful friends."

"And what about Henry Anderson?" inquired Peter. "Aren't you going to include him?"

Linda walked over to the chair in which she intended to seat herself.

"Peter," she said, "I wish you hadn't asked me that."

Peter's figure tensed suddenly.

"Look here, Linda," he said sternly, "has that rather bold youngster made himself in any way offensive to you?"

"Not in any way that I am not perfectly capable of handling myself,"