Before they had finished, Donald Whiting came down the sidewalk, his cheeks flushed with the exercise of walking, his eyes bright with anticipation, his cause forever won--in case he had a cause--with Katy, because she liked the wholesome, hearty manner in which he greeted Linda, and she was dumbfounded when he held out his hand to her and said laughingly: "Blessed among women, did you put in a fine large consignment of orange punch ?" "No," said Katy, "I'll just tell ye flat-footed there ain't going to be any punch, but, young sir, you're eshcortin' a very capable young lady, and don't ye bewail the punch, because ye might be complimenting your face with something ye would like a hape better." "Can't be done, Katy," cried Donald.
"Ye must have a poor opinion of us," laughed Katy, "if ye are thinking ye can get to the end of our limitations in one lunch.

Fourteen years me and Miss Linda's been on this lunch-box stunt.

Don't ye be thinkin' ye can exhaust us in any wan trip, or in any wan dozen." So they said good-bye to Katy and rolled past Eileen's room on the way to the desert.

Eileen stood at the window watching them, and never had her heart been so full of discontent and her soul the abiding place of such envy or her mind so busy.

Just when she had thought life was going to yield her what she craved, she could not understand how or why things should begin to go wrong.
As the Bear Cat traversed Lilac Valley, Linda was pointing out Peter Morrison's location.