The thought that she had been criticized did not annoy her as to the kind of criticism, but she did resent the quality of truth about it.
She was right in following the rules her father had laid down for her health and physical well-being, but was it right that she should wear shoes scuffed, resoled, and even patched, when there was money enough for Eileen to have many pairs of expensive laced boots, walking shoes, and fancy slippers?
She was sure she was right in wearing dresses suitable for school, but was it right that she must wear them until they were sunfaded, stained, and disreputable?
Was it right that Eileen should occupy their father and mother's suite, redecorated and daintily furnished according to her own taste, to keep the parts of the house that she cared to use decorated with flowers and beautifully appointed, while Linda must lock herself in a small stuffy bedroom room, dingy and none too comfortable, when in deference to her pride she wished to work in secret until she learned whether she could succeed.
Then she began thinking, and decided that the only available place in the house for her use was the billiard room.

She made up her mind that she would demand the sole right to this big attic room.

She would sell the table and use the money to buy herself a suitable worktable and a rug.

She would demand that Eileen produce enough money for better clothing for her, and then she remembered what she had said to Donald Whiting about conquering her horror for a motor car.

Linda turned in at the walk leading to her home, but she passed the front entrance and followed around to the side.