. On the
living-room table I found a note sweeter than honey, and it contained a
cheque for me that wouldn't pay Eileen's bills for lunches, candy,
and theaters for a month; so in undue heat I reduced it to bits and
decorated the rug before her door. But before that, Katy, I led my
guardian into the room, and showed him everything. I meant to tell him
that, since he had neglected me for four years, he could see that I had
justice now, but when I'd personally conducted him from Eileen's room
to mine, and when I took a good look at him there was something on his
face, Katy, that I couldn't endure. So I told him to leave it to me;
that I would tell Eileen myself what I had done, and so I will. But I am
sorry I did it, Katy; I am awfully sorry. You always told me to keep
my temper and I lost it completely. From now on I certainly will try to
behave myself more like a woman than a spoiled child. Now give me a dust
cloth and brushes. I am almost through with my job in the library and
I want to finish, because I shall be forced to use the money from the
books to pay for my skylight and fireplace."

Linda went to the library and began work, efficiently, carefully, yet
with a precise rapidity habitual to her. Down the long line of heavy
technical books, she came to the end of the shelf. Three books from
the end she noticed a difference in the wall behind the shelf. Hastily
removing the other two volumes, she disclosed a small locked door having
a scrap of paper protruding from the edge which she pulled out and upon
which she read:

In the event of my passing, should anyone move these books and find this
door, these lines are to inform him that it is to remain untouched. The
key to it is in my safety-deposit vault at the Consolidated Bank. The
Bank will open the door and attend to the contents of the box at the
proper time.

Linda fixed the paper back exactly as she had found it. She stood
looking at the door a long time, then she carefully wiped it, the wall
around it, and the shelf. Going to another shelf, she picked out the
books that had been written by her father and, beginning at the end of
the shelf, she ranged them in a row until they completely covered the
opening. Then she finished filling the shelf with other books that she
meant to keep, but her brain was working, milling over and over the
question of what that little compartment contained and when it was to
be opened and whether John Gilman knew about it, and whet