"But that is exactly what I must tell you, Katy," said Linda soberly. "You know I have told you a number of times through these years that I did not believe Eileen and I were sisters, and I am telling you now that I know it. She did not come to the bank today, and the settlement of Father's affairs developed the fact that I was my father's child and Eileen was her mother's;and I'm thinking, Katy, that the big car you saw and the opulent people in it were Eileen's mother's wealthy relatives from San Francisco. My guess is, Katy, that Eileen has gone with them for good. Lock her door and don't touch her things until we know certainly what she wants done with them."Katy stood thinking intently, then she lifted her eyes to Linda's.
"Lambie," she whispered softly, "are we ixpicted to go into mourning over this?"A mischievous light leaped into Linda's eyes.
"Well, if there are any such expectations abroad, Katherine O'Donovan," she said soberly, "the saints preserve 'em, for we can't fulfill 'em, can we, Katy?""Not to be savin' our souls," answered Katy heartily. "I'm jist so glad and thankful that I don't know what to do, and it's such good news that I don't belave one word of it. And while you're talkie', what about John Gilman?""I think," said Linda quietly, "that tonight is going to teach him how Marian felt in her blackest hours.""Well, he needn't be coming to me for sympathy," said Katy. "But if Miss Eileen has gone to live with the folks that come after her the day, ye might be savin' a wee crap o' sympathy for her, lambie. They was jist the kind of people that you'd risk your neck slidin' down a mountain to get out of their way.""That is too bad," said Linda reflectively; "because Eileen is sensitive and constant contact with crass vulgarity certainly would wear on her nerves.""Now you be goin' and gettin' into that dress, lambie," said Katy.
"Katherine O'Donovan," said Linda, "you're used to it; come again to confession. Tell me truly where and how did you get that dress?""'Tain't no rule of polite society to be lookin' gift horses in the mouth," said Katy proudly. "HOW I got it is me own affair, jist like ye got any gifts ye was ever makin' me, is yours.
WHERE I got it? I went into the city on the strafe car and Iwent to the biggest store in the city and I got in the elevator and I says to the naygur: 'Let me off where real ladies buy ready-to-wear dresses.'
"And up comes a little woman, and her hair was jist as soft and curling round her ears, and brown and pretty was her eyes, and the pink that God made was in her cheeks, and in a voice like runnin' water she says: 'Could I do anything for you?' I told her what I wanted. And she says: 'How old is the young lady, and what's her size, and what's her color?' Darlin', ain't that dress the answer to what I told her?""Yes," said Linda. "If an artist had been selecting a dress for me he would probably have chosen that one. But, old dear, it's not suitable for me. It's not the kind of dress that I intended to wear for years and years yet. Do you think, if I put it on tonight, I'll ever be able to go back to boots and breeches again, and hunt the canyons for plants to cook for--you know what?"Katy stood in what is commonly designated as a "brown study."Then she looked Linda over piercingly.
"Yes, ma'am," she said conclusively. "It's my judgment that ye will. I think ye'll maybe wrap the braids of ye around your head tonight, and I think ye'll put on that frock, and I think ye'll show Pater Morrison how your pa's daughter can sit at the head of his table and entertain her friends. Then I think ye'll hang it in your closet and put on your boots and breeches and go back to your old Multiflores and attind to your business, the same as before.""All right, Katy," said Linda, "if you have that much faith in me I have that much faith in myself; but, old dear, I can't tell you how I LOVE having a pretty dress for tonight. Katy dear, the 'Day of Jubilee' has come. Before you go to sleep I'm coming to your room to tell you fine large secrets, that you won't believe for a minute, but I haven't the time to do it now."Then Linda raced to her room and began dressing. She let down the mop of her hair waving below her waist and looked at it despairingly.
"That dress never was made for braids down your back," she said, glancing toward the bed where it lay shimmering in a mass of lovely color. "I am of age today; for state occasions I should be a woman. What shall I do with it?"And then she recalled Katy's voice saying: "Braids round your head.""Of course," said Linda, "that would be the thing to do. Icertainly don't need anything to add to my height; I am far too tall now."So she parted her hair in the middle, brushed it back, divided it in even halves, and instead of braiding it, she coiled it around her head, first one side and then the other.
She slipped into the dress and struggled with its many and intricate fastenings. Then she went to the guest room to stand before the full-length mirror there. Slowly she turned.
Critically she examined herself.
"It's a bit shorter than I would have ordered it," she said, "but it reduces my height, it certainly gives wonderful freedom in walking, and it's not nearly so short as I see other girls wearing."Again she studied herself critically.
"Need some kind of ornament for my hair," she muttered, "but Ihaven't got it, and neither do I own beads, bracelet, or a ring;and my ears are sticking right out in the air. I am almost offensively uncovered."Then she went down to show herself to a delighted Katy. When the doorbell rang Linda turned toward the hall. Katy reached a detaining hand.
