Miss Ri gave her a sharp, quick look, but made no comment. Her crochet needle moved swiftly in and out the meshes of white wool she held. "Verlinda," she said presently, "how would you like to go up to the city for your holiday? I invite you as my guest. We can get someone to stay here in the house to keep Phebe satisfied, and we'll have a real rollicking time going to the theatre, shopping, seeing our friends, and giddy-gadding generally. What do you say to it?"
"Oh, Aunt Ri, it would be perfectly delightful, but—"
"But what?"
"Won't it be very expensive?"
"It won't be too expensive. I've just had a dividend I didn't expect, and I can't think of a pleasanter way of spending it. I hate to go poking around by myself, and I don't know anyone whom it would be more real joy to have with me."
"Not Miss Parthy?"
"Oh, Parthy's an old stick when it comes to the city. She isn't young enough," Miss Ri laughed comfortably.
Linda sat bending over an embroidered piece she was doing for Grace's Christmas. There was a reminiscent look on her face. This would be her first Christmas since Martin died. It would be hard not to spend the day as usual in the old home, and harder still not to hear the voice of him who had always made Christmas a happy day for her. Yet, after all, it would be less lonely with Miss Ri, for had not the dear woman made this a true home for her? It was like her to plan this outing, that the girl might not yearn too deeply for past joys. There would not be the old church to decorate, as in the years gone by, but on Christmas Eve she could take wreaths to the churchyard. Her thoughts were far away when Miss Ri's voice roused her.
"Well, shall we go?"
"If you really think you would enjoy having me," answered Linda, coming back to the present. "I think you are a darling to ask me."