pretty good idea of
what it is that you want."

"When you know cress, it's queer that you wouldn't know other things in
your own particular canyon," said Donald.

Linda realized that she had overdone her disinterestedness a trifle.

"I suspect it's miners' lettuce you want," she said. "Of course I know
where there's some, but you will want it as fresh as possible if you
take any, so we'll finish our day first and gather it the last thing
before we leave."

How it started neither of them noticed, but they had not gone far before
they were climbing the walls and hanging to precarious footings. Her
cheeks flushed, her eyes brilliant, her lips laughing, Linda was
showing Donald thrifty specimens of that Cotyledon known as "old hen and
chickens," telling him of the rare Echeveria of the same family, and her
plunge down the canyon side while trying to uproot it, exulting that she
had brought down the plant without a rift in the exquisite bloom on its
leaves.

Linda told about her fall, and the two men who had passed at that
instant, and how she had met them later, and who they were, and what
they were doing. Then Donald climbed high for a bunch of larkspur, and
Linda showed him how to turn his back to the canyon wall and come down
with the least possible damage to his person and clothing. When at last
both of them were tired they went back to the car. Linda spread an
old Indian blanket over the least flower-grown spot she could select,
brought out the thermos bottles and lunch case, and served their lunch.
With a glass of fruit punch in one hand and a lettuce sandwich in the
other, Donald smiled at Linda.

"I'll agree about Katy. She knows how," he said appreciatively.

"Katy is more than a cook," said Linda quietly. "She is a human being.
She has the biggest, kindest heart. When anybody's sick or in trouble
she's the greatest help. She is honest; she has principles; she is
intelligent. In her spare time she reads good books and magazines.
She knows what is going on in the world. She can talk intelligently
on almost any subject. It's no disgrace to be a cook. If it were, Katy
would be unspeakable. Fact is, at the present minute there's no one in
all the world so dear to me as Katy. I always talk Irish with her."

"Well, I call that rough on your sister," said Donald.

"Maybe it is," conceded Linda. "I suspect a lady wouldn't have i
said that, but Eileen and I are so different. She never has made the
slightest effor