“But you’re not taking into consideration,” said Linda, “that I must work, and I scarcely know you, while I have known Marian ever since I was four years old and she is my best friend.”
“Well, she has no advantage over me,” said Henry instantly, “because I have known you quite as long as Peter Morrison has at least, and I’m your official bug-catcher.”
“I had almost forgotten about the bugs,” said Linda.
“Well, don’t for a minute think I am going to give you an opportunity to forget,” said Henry Anderson.
He reached across and laid his hand over Linda’s on the steering gear. Linda said nothing, neither did she move. She merely added more gas and put the Bear-cat forward at a dizzy whirl. Henry laughed.
“That’s all right, my beauty,” he said. “Don’t you think for a minute that I can’t ride as fast as you can drive.”
A dull red mottled Linda’s cheeks. As quickly as it could be done she brought the Bear-cat to a full stop. Then she turned and looked at Henry Anderson. The expression in her eyes was disconcerting even to that cheeky young individual—he had not borne her gaze a second until he removed his hand.
“Thanks,” said Linda in a dry drawl. “And you will add to my obligation if in the future you will remember not to deal in assumptions. I am not your ‘beauty,’ and I’m not anyone’s beauty; while the only thing in this world that I am interested in at present is to get the best education I can and at the same time carry on work that I love to do. I have a year to finish my course in the high school and when I finish I will only have a good beginning for whatever I decide to study next.”
“That’s nothing,” said the irrepressible Henry. “It will take me two years to catch a sufficient number of gold bugs to be really serious, but there wouldn’t be any harm in having a mutual understanding and something definite to work for, and then we might be able, you know, to cut out some of that year of High-school grinding. If the plans I have submitted in the Nicholson and Snow contest should just happen to be the prize winners, that would put matters in such a shape for young Henry that he could devote himself to crickets and tumble-bugs at once.”
“Don’t you think,” said Linda quietly, “that you would better forget that silly jesting and concentrate the best of your brains on improving your plans for Peter Morrison’s house?”