“Oh, Linda,” she said, “what is the use of being so hard? You will make them think at the bank that I have not treated you fairly.”
“I?” said Linda, “I will make them think? Don’t you think it is you who will make them think? Will you kindly answer my question?”
“If I show you the books,” said Eileen, “if I divide what is left after the bills are paid so that you say yourself that it is fair, what more can you ask?”
Linda hesitated.
“What I ought to do is exactly what I have said I would do,” she said tersely, “but if you are going to put it on that basis I have no desire to hurt you or humiliate you in public. If you do that, I can’t see that I have any reason to complain, so we’ll call it a bargain and we’ll say no more about it until the first of the month, unless the spirit moves you, after taking a good square look at me, to produce some shoes and a school dress instanter.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” answered Eileen.
“All right then,” said Linda. “See you at dinner.”
She went to her own room, slipped off her school dress, brushed her hair, and put on the skirt and blouse she had worn the previous evening, these being the only extra clothing she possessed. As she straightened her hair she looked at herself intently.
“My, aren’t you coming on!” she said to the figure in the glass. “Dressing for dinner! First thing you know you’ll be a perfect lady.”