He mulled over the problem for several days, and then he decided
he should see Linda, and with his first look into her
straight-forward eyes, from the tones of her voice and the
carriage of her head he would know whether the annoyance
persisted. About the customary time for her to return from
school Peter started on foot down the short cut between his home
and the Strong residence. He was following a footpath rounding
the base of the mountain, crossing and recrossing the
enthusiastic mountain stream as it speeded toward the valley,
when a flash of color on the farther side of the brook attracted
him. He stopped, then hastily sprang across the water, climbed a
few yards, and, after skirting a heavy clump of bushes, looked at
Linda sitting beside them--a most astonishing Linda, appearing
small and humble, very much tucked away, unrestrained tears
rolling down her cheeks, a wet handkerchief wadded in one hand, a
packet of letters in her lap. A long instant they studied each
other.
"Am I intruding?" inquired Peter at last.
Linda shook her head vigorously and gulped down a sob.
"No, Peter," she sobbed, "I had come this far on my way to you
when my courage gave out."
Peter rearranged the immediate landscape and seated himself
beside Linda.
"Now stop distressing yourself," he said authoritatively. "You
youngsters do take life so seriously. The only thing that could
have happened to you worth your shedding a tear over can't
possibly have happened; so stop this waste of good material.
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