"If
I don't beat him I am disgraced at home, and with you; before I
try very long in this highly specialized effort I am making,
every professor in the high school and every member of my class
is bound to become aware of what is going on. You're mighty
right about it. I have got to beat him or disgrace myself right
at the beginning of my nice young career."
"Of course you'll beat him," said Linda.
"At what hour did you say I should come, Saturday?"
"Oh, come with the lark for all I care," said Linda. "Early
morning in the desert is a mystery and a miracle, and the larks
have been there just long enough to get their voices properly
tuned for their purest notes."
Then she turned and hurried away. Her first leisure minute after
reaching home she went to the library wearing one of Katy's big
aprons, and carrying a brush and duster. Beginning at one end of
each shelf, she took down the volumes she intended to sell,
carefully dusted them, wiped their covers, and the place on which
they had stood, and then opened and leafed through them so that
no scrap of paper containing any notes or memoranda of possible
value should be overlooked. It was while handling these volumes
that Linda shifted several of the books written by her father, to
separate them from those with which she meant to part. She had
grown so accustomed to opening each book she handled and looking
through it, that she mechanically opened the first one she picked
up and from among its leaves there fell a scrap of loose paper.
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