An agreement had been made that his professors should
call and hear his recitations for a few days until by the aid of
a crutch and a cane he could resume his place in school. Linda
went to visit him exactly as she would have gone to see Marian
in like circumstances. She succeeded in making all of the
Whiting family her very devoted friends.
One evening, after he had been hobbling about for over a week,
Linda and Peter called to spend the evening, and a very gay and
enjoyable evening it was. And yet when it was over and they had
gone away together Donald appeared worried and deeply thoughtful.
When his mother came to his room to see if the foot was unduly
painful or there was anything she could do to make him more
comfortable, he looked at her belligerently.
"Mother," he said, "I don't like Peter Morrison being so much
with my girl."
Mrs. Whiting stood very still. She thought very fast. Should
she postpone it or should she let the boy take all of his hurts
together? Her heart ached for him and yet she felt that she knew
what life had in store for him concerning Linda. So she sat on
the edge of the bed and began to talk quietly, plainly,
reasonably. She tried to explain nature and human nature and
what she thought the laws of probability were in the case.
Donald lay silent. He said nothing until she had finished all
she had to say, and then he announced triumphantly: "You're all
wrong. That is what would happen if Linda were a girl like any
of the other girls in her class, or like Louise.
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