"
"Of course you will," said Peter; "but don't worry about it,
dear; don't lose sleep. Take things slower. Give time for a
little more flesh to grow on your bones. And don't forget that
while you're helping Donald to keep at the head of his classes
it's your
first job to keep at the head of your own."
"Thank you," said Linda. "How is the dream coming?"
"Beautifully," said Peter. "One of these days you're going to
come rushing around the boulders and down the side of the
building to find all this debris cleared away and the place for a
lawn leveled. I am fighting down every possible avenue of
expertise on the building in the effort to save money to make the
brook run and the road wind where you have indicated that you
want them to follow you."
Linda looked at Peter while a queer, reflective light gathered in
her eyes. At last she said soberly: "Well, I don't know, Peter,
that you should make them so very personal to me as all that."
"Why not?" asked Peter casually. "Since there is no one else,
why not?"
Linda released the clutch and started the car. She backed in
front of the garage and turned. She was still thinking deeply as
she stopped. Once again she extended a hand to Peter.
"Thank you a thousand times for not reading these letters,
Peter," she said. "I can't express how awfully fine I think it
is of you. And if it's all right with you, perhaps there's not
any real reason why you should not run that brook and drive that
road the way I think they should go.
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