"
"Most certainly," said Mr. Snow. "We should have that much to
show for our share of the transaction."
"It's a queer thing," said Linda. "You would have to know me a
long time, and perhaps know under what conditions I have been
reared in order to understand a feeling that I frequently have
concerning people. I tobogganed down a sheer side of Multiflores
Canyon one day without my path having been previously prepared,
and I very nearly landed in the automobile that carried Henry
Anderson and Peter Morrison on their first trip to Lilac Valley.
I was much interested in preserving the integrity of my neck. I
fervently hoped not to break more than a dozen of my legs and
arms, and was forced to bring down intact the finest Cotyledon
pulverulenta that Daddy or I had found in fourteen years of
collecting in California. I am telling you all this that you may
see why I might have been excused for not having been minutely
observant of my surroundings when I landed. But what I did
observe was a chilly, caterpillary sensation chasing up my spine
the instant I met the eyes of Henry Anderson. In that instant I
said to myself that I would not trust him, that I did not like
him."
"And what about his companion?" asked Eugene Snow lightly. "Oh,
Peter?" said Linda. There was a caress in her pronunciation of
the name. "Why, Peter is a rock. The instant I deposited my
Cotyledon in a safe place I would have put my hand in Peter
Morrison's and started around the world if he had asked me to go.
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