er rights that she had made, but she did know that
in some way she would follow it up, because Linda was a very close
reproduction of her father.

She had been almost constantly with him during his life, very much alone
since his death. She was a busy young person. From Marian's windows
she had watched the business of carrying on the wild-flower garden that
Linda and her father had begun. What the occupation was that kept the
light burning in Linda's room far into the night Marian did not know.
For a long time she had supposed that her studies were difficult for
her, and when she had asked Linda if it were not possible for her to
prepare her lessons without so many hours of midnight study she had
caught the stare of frank amazement with which the girl regarded her
and in that surprised, almost grieved look she had realized that very
probably a daughter of Alexander Strong, who resembled him as Linda
resembled him, would not be compelled to overwork to master the
prescribed course of any city high school. What Linda was doing during
those midnight hours Marian did not know, but she did know that she was
not wrestling with mathematics and languages--at least not all of the
time. So Marian knowing Linda's gift with a pencil, had come to the
conclusion that she was drawing pictures; but circumstantial evidence
was all she had as a basis for her conviction. Linda went her way
silently and alone. She was acquainted with everyone living in Lilac
Valley, frank and friendly with all of them; aside from Marian she
had no intimate friend. Not another girl in the valley cared to follow
Linda's pursuits or to cultivate the acquaintance of the breeched,
booted girl, constantly devoting herself to outdoor study with her
father during his lifetime, afterward alone.

For an instant after Marian had boarded her train Linda stood looking at
it, her heart so heavy that it pained acutely. She had not said one word
to make Marian feel that she did not want her to go. Not once had she
put forward the argument that Marian's going would leave her to depend
entirely for human sympathy upon the cook, and her guardian, also
administrator of the Strong estate, John Gilman. So long as he was
Marian's friend Linda had admired John Gilman. She had gone to him for
some measure of the companionship she had missed in losing her father.
Since Gilman had allowed himself to be captivated by Eileen, Linda
had harbored a feeling concerning him almost of cont