“Thank you very much,” said Linda. “That will fix everything finely.”
On her way to the street car, Linda’s brain whirled.
“It’s not conceivable,” she said, “that Eileen should be enriching herself at my expense. I can’t imagine her being dishonest in money affairs, and yet I can recall scarcely a circumstance in life in which Eileen has ever hesitated to be dishonest when a lie served her purpose better than the truth. Anyway, matters are safe now.”
The next day the books were taken and a cheque for their value was waiting for Linda when she reached home. She cashed this cheque and went straight to Peter Morrison for his estimate of the expenses for the skylight and fireplace. When she asked for the bill Peter hesitated.
“You wouldn’t accept this little addition to your study as a gift from Henry and me?” he asked lightly. “It would be a great pleasure to us if you would.”
“I could accept stones that Henry Anderson had gathered from the mountains and canyons, and I could accept a verse carved on stone, and be delighted with the gift; but I couldn’t accept hours of day labour at the present price of labour, so you will have to give me the bill, Peter.”
Peter did not have the bill, but he had memoranda, and when Linda paid him she reflected that the current talk concerning the inflated price of labour was greatly exaggerated.
For two evenings as Linda returned from school and went to her room she glanced down the hall and smiled at the decoration remaining on Eileen’s rug. The third evening it was gone, so that she knew Eileen was either in her room or had been there. She did not meet her sister until dinner time. She was prepared to watch Eileen, to study her closely. She was not prepared to admire her, but in her heart she almost did that very thing. Eileen had practiced subterfuges so long, she was so accomplished, that it would have taken an expert to distinguish reality from subterfuge. She entered the dining room humming a gay tune. She was carefully dressed and appealingly beautiful. She blew a kiss to Linda and waved gaily to Katy.
“I was rather afraid,” she said lightly, “that I might find you two in mourning when I got back. I never stayed so long before, did I? Seemed as if every friend I had made special demand on my time all at once. Hope you haven’t been dull without me.”
“Oh, no,” said Linda quietly. “Being away at school all day, of course I wouldn’t know whether you were at home or not, and I have grown so accustomed to spending my evenings alone that I don’t rely on you for entertainment at any time.”