Linda’s eyes opened wide and dewy with surprise and pleasure.
“Why, you two perfectly nice men!” she said. “I haven’t felt as I do this minute since I lost Daddy. It’s wonderful to be taken care of. It’s better than cream puffs with almond flavoring.”
Henry Anderson looked at Linda keenly.
“You’re the darndest kid!” he said. “One minute you’re smacking your lips over cream puffs, and the next you’re going to the bottom of the yellow peril. I never before saw your combination in one girl. What’s the explanation?” For the second time that evening Linda’s specialty in rapture floated free.
“Bunch all the component parts into the one paramount fact that I am Saturday’s child,” she said, “so I am constantly on the job of working for a living, and then add to that the fact that I was reared by a nerve specialist.”
Then they went downstairs, and the men refused both Eileen’s and Linda’s invitation to remain for dinner. When they had gone Eileen turned to Linda with a discontented and aggrieved face.
“In the name of all that’s holy, what are you doing or planning to do?” she demanded.
“Not anything that will cost you a penny beyond my natural rights,” said Linda quietly.
“That is not answering my question,” said Eileen. “You’re not of age and you’re still under the authority of a guardian. If you can’t answer me, possibly you can him. Shall I send John Gilman to ask what I want to know of you?”
“When did I ever ask you any questions about what you chose to do?” asked Linda. “I am merely following the example that you have previously set me. John Gilman and I used to be great friends. It might help both of us to have a family reunion. Send him by all means.”