“We came to your house with Gilman,” he said. “John started to the front door to tell Miss Eileen that we were ready. I followed him. Anderson said he would look at the scenery. He must have made a circuit of the house, because when we came out ready to start, a very few minutes later, he was coming down the other side of the house.”
“Ah,” said Linda comprehendingly.
“Linda,” said Peter quietly, “it is very obvious that something has worried you extremely. Am I in any way connected with it?”
Linda shook her head.
“Is there anything I can do?”
The negative was repeated. Then she looked at him.
“No, Peter,” she said quietly, “I confess I have had a shock, but it is in no way connected with you and there is nothing you can do about it but forget my foolishness. But I am glad—Peter, you will never know how glad I am—that you haven’t anything to do with it.”
Then in the friendliest fashion imaginable she reached him her hand and led the way back to the Bear-cat, their tightly gripped hands swinging between them. As Peter closed the door he looked down on Linda.
“Young woman,” he said, “since this country has as yet no nerve specialist to take the place of your distinguished father, if you have any waves to wave to me to-night, kindly do it before you start or after you reach the highway. If you take your hands off that steering wheel as you round the boulders and strike that declivity as I have seen you do heretofore, I won’t guarantee that I shall not require a specialist myself.”
Linda started to laugh, then she saw Peter’s eyes and something in them stopped her suddenly.