“And as for the bungalow,” interrupted Linda, “Katherine, as I have mentioned frequently before is my father, and my mother, and my whole family, and her front door is mine.”
“Sure,” said Katy proudly. “When these two fine people before you set up their hearthstone, a-swapin’ it I’ll be, and carin’ for their youngsters; but, Judge, I would like a bit of the shamrock. Ye might be sendin’ me a start of that, if it would plase Your Honor.”
Judge Whiting looked intently at Katherine O’Donovan. And then, as if they had been on the witness stand, he looked searchingly at Linda. But Linda was too perturbed, too accustomed to Katy’s extravagant nonsense even to notice the purport of what she had said. Then the Judge turned his attention to Peter Morrison and realized that at least one of the parties to Katherine’s proposed hearthstone had understood and heartily endorsed her proposal.
“I will have to be going. The boy and his mother will need me,” he said. “I will see all of you later.”
Then he sprang across the brook and sent his car roaring down the canyon after the ambulance.
Once more Katy sank to the ground. Linda looked at her as she buried her face and began to wail.
“Peter,” she said quietly, “hunt our belongings and pack them in the Bear-cat the best you can. Excuse us for a few minutes. We must get this out of our systems.”
Gravely she sat down beside Katy, laid her head on her shoulder, and began to cry very nearly as energetically as Katy herself. And that was the one thing which was most effective in restoring Katy’s nerves. Tears were such an unaccustomed thing with Linda that Katy controlled herself speedily so that she might be better able to serve the girl. In a few minutes Katy had reduced her emotions to a dry sniffle. She lifted her head, groped for her pocket, and being unable to find it for the very good reason that she was sitting upon it, she used her gingham hem as a handkerchief. Once she had risen to the physical effort of wiping her eyes, she regained calmness rapidly. The last time she applied the hem she looked at Peter, but addressed the Almighty in resigned tones: “There, Lord, I guess that will do.”
In a few minutes she was searching the kitchen, making sure that no knives, spoons, or cooking utensils were lost. Missing her support, Linda sat erect and endeavored to follow Katy’s example. Her eyes met Peter’s and when she saw that his shoulders were shaking, a dry, hysterical laugh possessed her.
“Yes, Katy,” she panted, “that will do, and remember the tears we are shedding are over Donald’s broken foot, and because this may interfere with his work, though I don’t think it will for long.”