"
Peter came and sat in the place Linda indicated. His mind was
whirling. There was something he did not understand, but in her
own time, in her own way, a girl of Linda's poise and
self-possession would tell him what had occurred that could be
responsible for the very peculiar things she had done. In some
way she had experienced a shock too great for her usual
self-possession. The hands with which she fished pickled onions
from the bottle were still unsteady, and the corroboration Peter
needed for his thoughts could be found in the dazed way in which
Katy watched Linda as she hovered over her in serving her. But
that was not the time. By and by the time would come. The thing
to do was to trust Linda and await its coming. So Peter called
on all the reserve wit and wisdom he had at command. He jested,
told stories, and to Linda's satisfaction and Katy's delight, he
ate his supper like a hungry man, frankly enjoying it, and when
the meal was finished Peter took Katy over the house, explaining
to her as much detail as was possible at that stage of its
construction, while Linda followed with mute lips and rebellion
surging in her heart. When leaving time came, while Katy packed
the Bear Cat, Linda wandered across toward the spring, and Peter,
feeling that possibly she might wish to speak with him, followed
her. When he overtook her she looked at him straightly, her eyes
showing the hurt her heart felt.
"Peter," she said, "that first night you had dinner with us, was
Henry Anderson out of your presence one minute from the time you
came into the house until you left it?"
Peter stopped and studied the ground at his feet intently.
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