“Don’t ye be standin’ there wastin’ no time talkin’,” she said.
“I have oodles of time,” said Linda, “but I warn you, you won’t know me if I put on that frock, Katy.”
“Yes, I will, too,” said Katy.
“Katy,” said Linda, sobering suddenly, “would it make any great difference to you if I were the only one here for always, after this?”
Katy laughed contemptuously.
“Well, I’d warrant to survive it,” she said coolly.
“But that is exactly what I must tell you, Katy,” said Linda soberly. “You know I have told you a number of times through these years that I did not believe Eileen and I were sisters, and I am telling you now that I know it. She did not come to the bank to-day, and the settlement of Father’s affairs developed the fact that I was my father’s child and Eileen was her mother’s; and I’m thinking, Katy, that the big car you saw and the opulent people in it were Eileen’s mother’s wealthy relatives from San Francisco. My guess is, Katy, that Eileen has gone with them for good. Lock her door and don’t touch her things until we know certainly what she wants done with them.”
Katy stood thinking intently, then she lifted her eyes to Linda’s.
“Lambie,” she whispered softly, “are we ixpicted to go into mourning over this?”
A mischievous light leaped into Linda’s eyes.