“I’m sure,” said Linda with demure lips, though the eyes above them were blazing and dancing at high tension, “I’m sure that the editor is attaching a husband, and a house having a well-ordered kitchen, and rather wide culinary experience to that ‘dear madam.’”
“And what about this book proposition?” asked the banker gravely. “That would be a big thing for a girl of your age. Can you do it, and continue your school work?”
“With the background I have, with the unused material I have, and with vacation coming before long, I can do it easily,” said Linda. “My school work is not difficult for me. It only requires concentration for about two hours in the preparation that each day brings. The remainder of the time I could give to amplifying and producing new recipes.”
“I see,” said the banker. “So you have resolved, Linda, that you don’t want your editor to know your real name.”
“Could scarcely be done,” said Linda.
“But have you stopped to think,” said the banker, “that you will be asked for personal history and about your residence, and no doubt a photograph of yourself. If you continue this work anonymously you’re going to have trouble with more matters than cashing a cheque.”
“But I am not going to have any trouble cashing a cheque,” she said, “because I have come straight to the man whose business is cheques.”
“True enough,” he said; “I shall have to arrange the cheque; there’s not a doubt about that; and as for your other bugbears——”
“I refuse to be frightened by them,” interposed Linda.
“Have you ever done any business at the bank?”