Her Father's Daughter. Stratton-Porter GeneЧитать онлайн книгу.
her elbows and her knees. “Seems to me it's my promontories that have been knocked off, not yours, Katy.”
“Yes, and ain't it just like ye,” said Katy, “to be coming in late, and all banged up when Miss Eileen has got sudden notice that there is going to be company again and I have an especial dinner to serve, and never in the world can I manage if ye don't help me!”
“Why, who is coming now?” asked Linda, seating herself on the nearest chair and beginning to unfasten her boots slowly.
“Well, first of all, there is Mr. Gilman, of course.”
“'Of course,'” conceded Linda. “If he tried to get past our house, Eileen is perfectly capable of setting it on fire to stop him. She's got him 'vamped' properly.”
“Oh I don't know that ye should say just that,” said Katy “Eileen is a mighty pretty girl, and she is SOME manager.”
“You can stake your hilarious life she is,” said Linda, viciously kicking a boot to the center of the kitchen. “She can manage to go downtown for lunch and be invited out to dinner thirteen times a week, and leave us at home to eat bread and milk, bread heavily stressed. She can manage to get every cent of the income from the property in her fingers, and a great big girl like me has to go to high school looking so tacky that even the boys are beginning to comment on it. Manage, I'll say she can manage, not to mention managing to snake John Gilman right out of Marian's fingers. I doubt if Marian fully realizes yet that she's lost her man; and I happen to know that she just plain loved John!”
The second boot landed beside the first, then Linda picked them both up and started toward the back hall.
“Honey, are ye too bad hurt to help me any?” asked Katy, as she passed her.
“Of course not,” said Linda. “Give me a few minutes to take a bath and step into my clothes and then I'll be on the job.”
With a black scowl on her face, Linda climbed the dingy back stairway in her stocking-feet. At the head of the stairs she paused one minute, glanced at the gloom of her end of the house, then she turned and walked to the front of the hall where there were potted ferns, dainty white curtains, and bright rugs. The door of the guest room stood open and she could see that it was filled with fresh flowers and ready for occupancy. The door of her sister's room was slightly ajar and she pushed it open and stood looking inside. In her state of disarray she made a shocking contrast to the flowerlike figure busy before a dressing table. Linda was dark, narrow, rawboned, overgrown in height, and forthright of disposition. Eileen was a tiny woman, delicately moulded, exquisitely colored, and one of the most perfectly successful tendrils from the original clinging vine in her intercourse with men, and with such women as would tolerate the clinging-vine idea in the present forthright days. With a strand of softly curled hair in one hand and a fancy pin in the other, Eileen turned a disapproving look upon her sister.
“What's the great idea?” demanded Linda shortly.
“Oh, it's perfectly splendid,” answered Eileen. “John Gilman's best friend is motoring around here looking for a location to build a home. He is an author and young and good looking and not married, and he thinks he would like to settle somewhere near Los Angeles. Of course John would love to have him in Lilac Valley because he hopes to build a home here some day for himself. His name is Peter Morrison and John says that his articles and stories have horse sense, logic, and humor, and he is making a lot of money.”
“Then God help John Gilman, if he thinks now that he is in love with you,” said Linda dryly.
Eileen arched her eyebrows, thinned to a hair line, and her lips drew together in disapproval.
“What I can't understand,” she said, “is how you can be so unspeakably vulgar, Linda.”
Linda laughed sharply.
“And this Peter Morrison and John are our guests for dinner?”
“Yes,” said Eileen. “I am going to show them this valley inside and out. I'm so glad it's spring. We're at our very best. It would be perfectly wonderful to have an author for a neighbor, and he must be going to build a real house, because he has his architect with him; and John says that while he is young, he has done several awfully good houses. He has seen a couple of them in in San Francisco.”
Linda shrugged her shoulders.
“Up the flue goes Marian's chance of drawing the plans for John Gilman's house,” she said. “I have heard him say a dozen times he would not build a house unless Marian made the plans.”
Eileen deftly placed the strand of hair and set the jewelled pin with precision.
“Just possibly things have changed slightly,” she suggested.
“Yes,” said Linda, “I observe that they have. Marian has sold the home she adored. She is leaving friends she loved and trusted, and who were particularly bound to her by a common grief without realizing exactly how it is happening. She certainly must know that you have taken her lover, and I have not a doubt but that is the reason she has discovered she can no longer work at home, that she must sell her property and spend the money cooped up in a city, to study her profession further.”
“Linda,” said Eileen, her face pale with anger, “you are positively insufferable. Will you leave my room and close the door after you?”
“Well, Katy has just informed me,” said Linda, “that this dinner party doesn't come off without my valued assistance, and before I agree to assist, I'll know ONE thing. Are you proposing to entertain these three men yourself, or have you asked Marian?”
Eileen indicated an open note lying on her dressing table.
“I did not know they were coming until an hour ago,” she said. “I barely had time to fill the vases and dust, and then I ran up to dress so that there would be someone presentable when they arrive.”
“All right then, we'll agree that this is a surprise party, but if John Gilman has told you so much about them, you must have been expecting them, and in a measure prepared for them at any time. Haven't you talked it over with Marian, and told her that you would want her when they came?”
Eileen was extremely busy with another wave of hair. She turned her back and her voice was not quite steady as she answered. “Ever since Marian got this 'going to the city to study' idea in her head I have scarcely seen her. She had an awful job to empty the house, and pack such things as she wants to keep, and she is working overtime on a very special plan that she thinks maybe she'll submit in a prize competition offered by a big firm of San Francisco architects, so I have scarcely seen her for six weeks.”
“And you never once went over to help her with her work, or to encourage her or to comfort her? You can't think Marian can leave this valley and not be almost heartbroken,” said Linda. “You just make me almost wonder at you. When you think of the kind of friends that Marian Thorne's father and mother, and our father and mother were, and how we children were reared together, and the good times we have had in these two houses—and then the awful day when the car went over the cliff, and how Marian clung to us and tried to comfort us, when her own health was broken—and Marian's the same Marian she has always been, only nicer every day—how you can sit there and say you have scarcely seen her in six of the hardest weeks of her life, certainly surprises me. I'll tell you this: I told Katy I would help her, but I won't do it if you don't go over and make Marian come tonight.”
Eileen turned to her sister and looked at her keenly. Linda's brow was sullen, and her jaw set.
“A bed would look mighty good to me and I will go and get into mine this minute if you don't say you will go and ask her, in such a way that she comes,” she threatened.
Eileen hesitated a second and then said: “All right, since you make such a point of it I will ask her.”
“Very well,” said Linda. “Then I'll help Katy the very best I can.”