walked over to the table and came back with a big black pencil.
Steadying her hand with a mahl stick rested against the wall,
with one short sharp stroke she drew a needle-pointed stinger, so
screened by the delicate wings that it could not be seen unless
you scrutinized the picture minutely. After that, with careful,
interested hands she brought out Peter Morrison's drawings and
replaced them on the wall to dry.



CHAPTER XX. The Cap Sheaf

Toward the last of the week Linda began to clear the mental decks
of her ship of life in order that she might have Saturday free
for her promised day with Donald. She had decided that they
would devote that day to wave-beaten Laguna. It was a long drive
but delightful. It ran over the old King's Highway between miles
of orange and lemon orchards in full flower, bordered by other
miles of roses in their prime.

Every minute when her mind was not actively occupied with her
lessons or her recipes Linda was dreaming of the King's Highway.
Almost unconsciously she began to chant:

"All in the golden weather, forth let us ride today, You and I
together on the King's Highway, The blue skies above us, and
below the shining sea; There's many a road to travel, but it's
this road for me."

You must have ridden this road with an understanding heart and