"What did she say?" she asked, smiling.
"Oh, nothing. She's far beyond speech. What did you do with Aunt Belinda?"
"Mrs. Lindsay arrived and Miss Barry is showing her her rockery and the ferns, so I thought she was safe and I'd come up for the fun."
"You certainly deserve to." Linda sighed unconsciously. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if everybody could be made happy so easily! I believe that is the only satisfaction there is in the world, after all—making others happy, whether you are so yourself or not."
Mrs. Porter came in and took another of the wicker chairs.
"I don't believe you can avoid the latter if you do the former," she remarked.
Linda regarded the speaker, a line appearing in her smooth brow. She often suspected Mrs. Porter to be thinking of Bertram. She had no right to ask impossibilities. The superhuman should not be required of the merely human.
"It is easier said than done, though, as a usual thing," said the girl aloud. "There is one man in Chicago, for instance, to whom I owe much kindness, whom I couldn't make happy except by marrying him."
"Not Bertram," returned Mrs. Porter quickly.
"Of course not Bertram," said Linda coolly.