She swept a stroke across her
sheet and below this she began again, sketching the same stretch
of country she had pictured above, strolling in cultivated
fields, dotting it with white cities, connecting it with smooth
roadways, sweeping the sky with giant planes. At one side,
winging in from the glow of morning, she drew in the
strong-winged flight of a flock of sea swallows, peacefully
homing toward the far-distant ocean. She was utterly unaware
when Peter stopped reading. Absorbed, she bent over her work.
When she had finished she looked up.
"Now I'll take this home," she said. "I can't do well on color
with pencils. You hold that article till I have time to put this
on water-color paper and touch it up a bit here and there, and I
believe it will be worthy of starting and closing your article."
She pushed the sketches toward him.
"You little wonder!" said Peter softly.
"Yes, 'little' is good," scoffed Linda, rising to very nearly his
height and reaching for the lunch basket. " 'Little' is good,
Peter. If I could do what I like to myself I would get in some
kind of a press and squash down about seven inches."
"Oh, Lord!" said Peter. "Forget it. What's the difference what
the inches of your body are so long as your brain has a stature
worthy of mention?"
"Good-bye!" said Linda. "On the strength of that I'll jazz that
sketch all up, bluey and red-purple and jade-green. I 11 make it
as glorious as a Catalina sunset.
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