Stopping for a bite to eat in the kitchen, Linda went back to her
room. She sat down at the table and picking up her pencil, began
to work, and found that she could work. Every stroke came true
and strong. Every idea seemed original and unusual. Quite as
late as a light ever had shone in her window, it shone that
night, the last thing she did being to write another anonymous
letter to Marian, and when she reread it Linda realized that it
was an appealing letter. She thought it certainly would comfort
Marian and surely would make her feel that someone worth while
was interested in her and in her work. She loved some of the
whimsical little touches she had put into it, and she wondered if
she had made it so much like Peter Morrison that it would be
suggestive of him to Marian. She knew that she had no right to
do that and had no such intention. She merely wanted a model to
copy from and Peter seemed the most appealing model at hand.
After school the next day Linda reported that she had finished
going through the books and was ready to have them taken. Then,
after a few minutes of deep thought, she made her way to the
Consolidated Bank. At the window of the paying teller she
explained that she wished to see the person connected with the
bank who had charge of the safety-deposit boxes and who looked
after the accounts pertaining to the estate of Alexander Strong.
The teller recognized the name. He immediately became
deferential.
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