“Well, if there are any such expectations abroad, Katherine O’Donovan,” she said soberly, “the saints preserve ’em, for we can’t fulfill ’em, can we, Katy?”
“Not to be savin’ our souls,” answered Katy heartily. “I’m jist so glad and thankful that I don’t know what to do, and it’s such good news that I don’t belave one word of it. And while you’re talkie’, what about John Gilman?”
“I think,” said Linda quietly, “that to-night is going to teach him how Marian felt in her blackest hours.”
“Well, he needn’t be coming to me for sympathy,” said Katy. “But if Miss Eileen has gone to live with the folks that come after her the day, ye might be savin’ a wee drap o’ sympathy for her, lambie. They was jist the kind of people that you’d risk your neck slidin’ down a mountain to get out of their way.”
“That is too bad,” said Linda reflectively; “because Eileen is sensitive and constant contact with crass vulgarity certainly would wear on her nerves.”
“Now you be goin’ and gettin’ into that dress, lambie,” said Katy.
“Katherine O’Donovan,” said Linda, “you’re used to it; come again to confession. Tell me truly where and how did you get that dress?”
“’Tain’t no rule of polite society to be lookin’ gift horses in the mouth,” said Katy proudly. “How I got it is me own affair, jist like ye got any gifts ye was ever makin’ me, is yours. Where I got it? I went into the city on the strafe car and I went to the biggest store in the city and I got in the elevator and I says to the naygur: ‘Let me off where real ladies buy ready-to-wear dresses.’
“And up comes a little woman, and her hair was jist as soft and curling round her ears, and brown and pretty was her eyes, and the pink that God made was in her cheeks, and in a voice like runnin’ water she says: ‘Could I do anything for you?’ I told her what I wanted. And she says: ‘How old is the young lady, and what’s her size, and what’s her colour?’ Darlin’, ain’t that dress the answer to what I told her?”
“Yes,” said Linda. “If an artist had been selecting a dress for me he would probably have chosen that one. But, old dear, it’s not suitable for me. It’s not the kind of dress that I intended to wear for years and years yet. Do you think, if I put it on to-night, I’ll ever be able to go back to boots and breeches again, and hunt the canyons for plants to cook for—you know what?”