“Well, I call that rough on your sister,” said Donald.
“Maybe it is,” conceded Linda. “I suspect a lady wouldn’t have said that, but Eileen and I are so different. She never has made the slightest effort to prove herself lovable to me, and so I have never learned to love her. Which reminds me—how did you happen to come to the garage?”
“The very beautiful young lady who opened the door mistook me for a mechanician. She told me I would find you working on your car and for goodness’ sake to see that it was in proper condition before you drove it.”
Linda looked at him with wide, surprised eyes in which a trace of indignation was plainly discernible.
“Now listen to me,” she said deliberately. “Eileen is a most sophisticated young lady. If she saw you, she never in this world, thought you were a mechanic sent from a garage presenting yourself at our front door.”
“There might have been a spark of malice in the big blue-gray I eyes that carefully appraised me,” said Donald.
“Your choice of words is good,” said Linda, refilling the punch glass. “‘Appraise’ fits Eileen like her glove. She appraises every thing on a monetary basis, and when she can’t figure that it’s going to be worth an appreciable number of dollars and cents to her—‘to the garage wid it,’ as Katy would say.”
When they had finished their lunch Linda began packing the box and Donald sat watching her.
“At this point,” said Linda, “Daddy always smoked. Do you smoke?”
There was a hint of deeper colour in the boy’s cheeks.