As her fingers touched
this paper her eyes narrowed, her breath came in a gasp. She
looked at it a second, irresolute, then she glanced over the top
of the declivity in the direction Peter had taken. He was
standing in front of the building, discussing some matter with
the contractor. He had not yet gone to the spring. Shielded by
the embankment with shaking fingers Linda opened the paper barely
enough to see that it was Marian's lost sheet of plans; but it
was not as Marian had lost it. It was scored deeply here and
there with heavy lines suggestive of alterations, and the margin
was fairly covered with fine figuring. Linda did not know Peter
Morrison's writing or figures. His articles had been typewritten
and she had never seen his handwriting. She sat down suddenly on
account of weakened knees, and gazed unseeingly down the length
of Lilac Valley, her heart sick, her brain tormented. Suddenly
she turned and studied the house.
"Before the Lord!" she gasped. "I THOUGHT there was something
mighty familiar even about the skeleton of you! Oh, Peter, Peter,
where did you get this, and how could you do it?"
For a while a mist blurred her eyes. She reached for the coat
and started to replace the things she had gathered up, then she
shut her lips tight.
"Best time to pull a tooth," she said tersely to a terra cotta
red manzanita bush, "is when it aches."
When Peter returned from the spring he was faced by a trembling
girl, colorless and trying hard to keep her voice steady.
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