He likes the pictures I
make; and, Katy, you won't believe it till I show you my little
bank book, but for the three already published with their
illustrations he pays me five hundred nice, long, smooth,
beautifully decorated, paper dollars!"
"Judas praste!" cried Katy, her hands once more aloft. "Ye ain't
manin' it, lambie?"
"Yes, I are," laughed Linda. "I've got the money; and for each
succeeding three with their pictures I am to have that much more,
and when I finish- -now steady yourself, Katy, because this is
going to be a shock--when I finish, blessed old dear heart, he is
going to make them into a book! That will be my job for this
summer, and you shall help me, and it will be a part of our great
secret. Won't it be the most fun?"
"My soul!" said Katy. "You're jist crazy. I don't belave a word
you're telling' me."
"But I can prove it, because I have the letter and the bank
book," said Linda.
Katy threw her arms around the girl and kissed the top of her
head and cried over her and laughed at the same time and patted
her and petted her and ended by saying: "Oh, lambie, if only the
master could be knowin' it."
"But he does know, Katy," said Linda.
She went to her room, removed the beautiful dress and, arranging
it on a hanger, left it in her closet. Slipping into an old
dressing gown, she ran to her workroom and wrote a letter to
Marian from herself. She tried not to tell Marian the big, vital
thing that was throbbing in her heart all day concerning her
work, the great secret that meant such a wonderful thing to her,
the thing that was beating in her heart and fluttering behind her
lips like a bird trying to escape its cage; but she could tell
her in detail of Eileen's undoubted removal to San Francisco; she
could tell her enough of the financial transactions of the day to
make her
understand what had been happening in the past; and she could
tell of her latest interview with John Gilman.
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