Peter, we are going to be invited to San
Francisco to see them married very shortly. Are you glad or
sorry?"
"I am very glad," said Peter heartily. "I make no concealment of
my admiration for Miss Thorne but I am very glad indeed that it
is not her head that is to complete the decoration when you start
the iris marching down my creek banks."
"Well, that's all right," said Linda. "Of course you should have
something to say about whose head finished that picture. I can't
contract to do more than set the iris. The thing about this I
dread is that Marian and Eugene are going to live in San
Francisco, and I did so want her to make her home in Lilac
Valley."
"That's too bad," said Peter sympathetically. "I know how you
appreciate her, how deeply you love her. Do you think the valley
will ever be right for you without her, Linda?"
"It will have to be," said Linda. "I've had to go on without
Father, you know. If greater happiness seems to be in store for
Marian in San Francisco, all I can do is to efface myself and say
'Amen.' When the world is all right for Marian, it is about as
near all right as it can be for me. And did you ever see much
more sincerely and clearly contented people than John and Eileen
are at the present minute?"
Peter looked at Linda whimsically. He lowered his voice as if a
sea urchin might hear and tattle.
"What did you do about the wasp, Linda?" he whispered.
"I delicately erased the stinger, fluffed up a ruffle, and put
the sketch under lock and key.
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