Linda sighed; the problem was too much for her. So, as she often did with other difficulties, she put it aside while she flung herself wholeheartedly into the inspection of her autogiro.
Dressed in overalls, and covered with grease, but satisfied that her afternoon’s work had been worthwhile, she returned to the house just in time for supper. She parked her roadster in the garage and dashed into the house, hoping to be able to get to her own room to dress before anyone saw her. But she was unsuccessful; Harriman Smith was waiting for her in the living room.
“Hello, Harry!” she exclaimed, laughing. “Don’t look at me! I’m a sight. But if you’ll just give me fifteen minutes——”
“You look fine, Linda!” protested the boy, thinking that her blue overalls were becoming and that her hair was all the more attractive when it blew around her face. “You see,” he continued, talking rapidly, “I’m in a hurry. I’m here because I have bad news—at least bad for me, though it will be good news for some other lucky fellow. I have to go back to work to-night, and that means I can’t go in the treasure hunt with you to-morrow.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Harry!” she exclaimed, with genuine regret.
“Another fellow in the company got sick, and so they just had to recall me,” he explained. “I shouldn’t have cared so much if it had happened Monday, but I was looking forward to this affair a great deal.”
“I’m awfully disappointed, too,” said Linda, wondering whether she would go alone or ask somebody else.
“Thanks, Linda—I really appreciate that. When there is a whole stag line just dying for the honor— But Linda, may I ask a favor?”
“Why, yes, certainly, Harry.”
“Don’t take Lord What’s-his-name in my place. Anybody but him!”