“Is it really yours?” asked Donald enviously.
“Yes,” said Linda. “It’s about the only thing on earth that is peculiarly and particularly mine. I haven’t a doubt there are improved models, but Daddy had driven this car only about nine months. It was going smooth as velvet, and there’s no reason why it should not keep it up, though I suspect that by this time there are later models that could outrun it.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said the boy. “It looks like some little old car to me. I bet it can just skate.”
“I know it can,” said Linda, “if I haven’t neglected something. We’ll start carefully, and we’ll have the inspector at the salesrooms look it over.”
Then Linda entered the kitchen door to find Katy with everything edible that the house afforded spread before her on the table.
“Why, Katy, what are you doing?” she asked.
“I was makin’ ready,” explained Katy, “to fix ye the same kind of lunch I would for Miss Eileen. Will ye have it under the live oak, or in the living room?”
“Neither,” said Linda. “Come upstairs with me, and in the storeroom you’ll find the lunch case and the thermos bottles; and don’t stint yourself, Katy. This is a rare occasion. It never happened before. Probably it will never happen again. Let’s make it high altitude while we are at it.”
“I’ll do my very best with what I happen to have,” said Katy; “but I warn you right now I am making a good big hole in the Sunday dinner.”
“I don’t give two whoops,” said Linda, “if there isn’t any Sunday dinner. In memory of hundreds of times that we have eaten bread and milk, make it a banquet, Katy, and we’ll eat bread and milk to-morrow.”