I think myself that a wonderfully
attractive book could be made from this material, and hope that
you will agree with me. Trusting that this will be satisfactory
to you and that you will seriously consider the book proposition
before you decline it, I remain, my dear madam, Very truly yours,
HUGH THOMPSON,
Editor, Everybody's Home.
Gripping the cheque and the letter, Linda lurched forward against
the window casement and shut her eyes tight, because she could
feel big, nervous gulps of exultation and rejoicing swelling up
in her throat. She shifted the papers to one hand and
surreptitiously slipped the other to her pocket. She tried to
keep the papers before her and looked straight from the window to
avoid attracting attention. The tumult of exultation in her
heart was so wild that she did not surely know whether she wanted
to sink to the floor, lay her face against the glass, and indulge
in what for generations women have referred to as "a good cry,"
or whether she wanted to leap from the window and sport on the
wind like a driven leaf.
Then she returned the letter and cheque to the envelope, and
slipped it inside her blouse, and started on her way to school.
She might as well have gone to Multiflores Canyon and pitted her
strength against climbing its walls for the day, for all the good
she did in her school work. She heard no word of any recitation
by her schoolmates. She had no word ready when called on for a
recitation herself.
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