nyone could see from the candor of his gaze and
the lines that God and experience had graven on his face that Peter was
without guile. Suddenly Linda shot her hands past Peter's shoulders and
brought them together on the back of his neck. She drew his face against
hers and cried: "Oh Peter, I would have been killed if that coat had
been yours. I tell you I couldn't have endured it, Peter. I am just
tickled to death!"

One instant she hugged him tight. If her lips did not brush his cheek,
Peter deluded himself. Then she sprang up and ran from the garage.
Later he took the coat from its nail, the papers from its pockets, and
carefully looked them over. There was nothing among them that would
give him the slightest clue to Linda's conduct. He looked again,
penetratingly, searchingly, for he must learn from them a reason; and
no reason was apparent. With the coat in one hand and the papers in the
other he stepped outside.

"Linda," he said, "won't you show me? Won't you tell me? What is there
about this to upset you?"

Linda closed her lips and shook her head. Once more Peter sought in her
face, in her attitude the information he craved.

"Needn't tell me," he said, "that a girl who will face the desert and
the mountains and the canyons and the sea is upset by a mouse."

"Well, you should have seen Katy sitting in the midst of our supper with
her feet rigidly extended before her!" cried the girl, struggling to
regain her composure. "Put back that coat and come to your supper. It's
time for you to be fed now. The last workman has gone and we'll barely
have time to finish nicely and show Katy your dream house before it's
time to go."

Peter came and sat in the place Linda indicated. His mind was whirling.
There was something he did not understand, but in her own time, in her
own way, a girl of Linda's poise and self-possession would tell him what
had occurred that could be responsible for the very peculiar things
she had done. In some way she had experienced a shock too great for her
usual self-possession. The hands with which she fished pickled onions
from the bottle were still unsteady, and the corroboration Peter needed
for his thoughts could be found in the dazed way in which Katy watched
Linda as she hovered over her in serving her. But that was not the time.
By and by the time would come. The thing to do was to trust Linda and
await its coming. So Peter called on all the reserve wit and wisdom he
had at command.