“All right then,” said the boy, “that brings me to the promise I want you to make me. May we always have our Saturdays together like this?”
“Sure!” said Linda, “I would be mightily pleased. I’ll have to work later at night and scheme, maybe. By good rights Saturday belongs to me anyway because I am born Saturday’s child.”
“Well, hurrah for Saturday! It always was a grand old day,” said Donald, “and since I see what it can do in turning out a girl like you, I’ve got a better opinion of it than ever. We’ll call that settled. I’ll always ask you on Friday at what hour to come, and hereafter Saturday is ours.”
“Ours it is,” said Linda.
Then she put the Bear-cat through the creek and on the road and, driving swiftly as she dared, ran to Lilac Valley and up to Peter Morrison’s location.
She was amazed at the amount of work that had been accomplished. The garage was finished. Peter’s temporary work desk and his cot were in it. A number of his personal belongings were there. The site for his house had been selected and the cellar was being excavated.
Linda descended from the Bear-cat and led Donald before Peter.
“Since you’re both my friends,” she said, “I want you to know each other. This is Donald Whiting, the Senior I told you about, Mr. Morrison. You know you said you would help him if you could.”
“Certainly,” said Peter. “I am very glad to know any friend of yours, Miss Linda. Come over to my workroom and let’s hear about this.”
“Oh, go and talk it over between yourselves,” said Linda. “I am going up here to have a private conversation with the spring. I want it to tell me confidentially exactly the course it would enjoy running so that when your house is finished and I come to lay out your grounds I will know exactly how it feels about making a change.”