“Now, easy; ye go easy, lambie,” cautioned Katy.
“I wouldn’t regret it,” said Linda, “if I took Eileen by the shoulders and shook her till I shook the rouge off her cheek, and the brilliantine off her hair, and a million mean little subterfuges out of her soul. You know Eileen is lovely when she is natural, and if she would be straight-off-the-bat square, I would be proud to be her sister. As it is, I have my doubts, even about this sister business.”
“Why, Linda, child, ye are just plain crazy,” said Katy. “What kind of notions are you getting into your head?”
“I hear the front door,” said Linda, “and I am going to march straight to battle. She’s going up the front stairs. I did mean to short-cut up the back, but, come to think of it, I have served my apprenticeship on the back stairs. I believe I’ll ascend the front myself. Good-bye, darlin’, wish me luck.”
Linda swung Katy around, hugged her tight, and dropped a kiss on the top of her faithful head.
“Ye just stick right up for your rights,” Katy advised her. “Ye’re a great big girl. ’Tain’t going to be long till ye’re eighteen. But mind your old Katy about going too far. If ye lose your temper and cat-spit, it won’t get ye anywhere. The fellow that keeps the coolest can always do the best headwork.”
“I get you,” said Linda, “and that is good advice for which I thank you.”
CHAPTER V
The Smoke of Battle
Then Linda walked down the hall, climbed the front stairs, and presented herself at Eileen’s door, there to receive one of the severest shocks of her young life. Eileen had tossed her hat and fur upon a couch, seated herself at her dressing table, and was studying her hair in the effort to decide whether she could fluff it up sufficiently to serve for the evening or whether she must take it down and redress it. At Linda’s step in the doorway she turned a smiling face upon her and cried: “Hello, little sister, come in and tell me the news.”