"Thank you, Aunt Belinda. May I keep it a little while?"
"You may keep it always," said Miss Barry solemnly. "It is more yours than mine. Isn't that a wonderful young man, Belinda Barry? Didn't I always say your father was too clever to trust the wrong people?"
"Bertram is clever," said Linda simply.
Miss Barry eyed her curiously, far from satisfied. "It's just," she thought, "as if some mental starch had gone all through the girl."
She wondered if her niece had no regret, no shame, that she had put herself so beyond the pale that Bertram ignored her.
"Really she is a handsome creature," thought Miss Barry, still regarding her vis-à-vis with some sternness.
"I hope as soon as we get home you will make haste to tell Mr. King that you appreciate all he has done."
"I do appreciate all he has done," said Linda, still with the exalted look in her eyes, "but he is doing his best to make up for it, Aunt Belinda." She leaned over far enough to put her hand on Miss Barry's knee, "If this comes out as Bertram hopes I will believe in God."
"Why, my dear child!" exclaimed the other.
"I tell you if a man like my father could be remembered in Chicago as touched by the faintest shade of dishonor, I should know that there couldn't be any God of justice."