"
Linda suddenly gathered her friend in her arms and held her
tight.
"Well, thank heaven that you felt sufficiently sure of me to come
to me when you needed me. Of course you shall spend the night
with me; and I must have been mistaken in thinking Eileen had
been here. She probably will come any minute. There are guests
for the night. John is bringing that writer friend of his. Of
course you know about him. It's Peter Morrison."
Marian nodded her head. "Of course! John has always talked of
him. He had some extremely clever articles in The Post lately."
"Well, he is one," said Linda, "and an architect who is touring
with him is two; they are looking for a location to build a house
for the writer. You can see that it would be a particularly
attractive feather in our cap if he would endorse our valley
sufficiently to home in it. So Eileen has invited them to sample
our brand of entertainment, and in the morning no doubt she will
be delighted to accompany them and show them all the beautiful
spots not yet preempted."
"Oh, heavens," cried Marian, "I'm glad I never showed her my
spot!"
"Well, if you are particular about wanting a certain place I
sincerely hope you did not," said Linda.
"I am sure I never did," answered Marian. "I so love one spot
that I have been most secretive about it. I am certain I never
went further than to say there was a place on which I would love
to build for myself the house of my dreams.
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