and one or
two had said: "What a pretty dress you have!" She had caught the
flash of approval in the eyes of Donald Whiting, and she had noted the
flourish with which he raised his hat when he saw her at a distance, and
she knew what he meant when he held up a book, past the covers of which
she could see protruding a thick fold of white paper. He had foresworn
whatever pleasure he might have thought of for Sunday. He had prepared
notes on some subject that he thought would further him. The lift of his
head, the flourish of his hat, and the book all told Linda that he had
struggled and that he felt the struggle had brought an exhilarating
degree of success. That had made the day particularly bright for Linda.
She had gone home with a feeling of uplift and exultation in her heart.
As she closed the front door she cried up the stairway: "Eileen, are you
there?"

"Yes," answered a rather sulky voice from above.

Linda ascended, two steps at a bound.

"Thank you over and over, old thing!" she cried as she raced down the
hallway. "Behold me! I never did have a more becoming dress, and Katy
loaned me money, till my income begins, to get shoes and a little scuff
hat to go with it. Aren't I spiffy?"

She pirouetted in the doorway. Eileen gripped the brush she was
wielding, tight.

"You have good taste," she said. "It's a pretty dress, but You're always
howling about things being suitable. Do you call that suitable for
school?"

"It certainly is an innovation for me," said Linda, "but there are
dozens of dresses of the same material, only different cut and colors
in the high school today. As soon as I get my money I'll buy a skirt and
some blouses so I won't have to wear this all the time; but I surely do
thank you very much, and I surely have had a lovely day. Did you have a
nice time at Riverside?"

Eileen slammed down the brush and turned almost a distorted face to
Linda. She had temper to vent. In the hour's reflection previous to
Linda's coming, she realized that she had reached the limit with Katy.
If she antagonized her by word or look, she would go to John Gilman, and
Eileen dared not risk what she would say.

"No, I did not have a lovely time," she said. "I furnished the men for
the party and I expected to have a grand time, but the first thing we
did was to run into that inflated egotist calling herself Mary Louise
Whiting, and like a fool, Janie Brunson introduced her to Peter
Morrison. I had paired him with