Donald was deeply thoughtful, yet a half smile was playing round
his lips.

"Of all the queer girls I ever knew, you're the cap sheaf,
Linda," he said.

Linda rose slowly, shook the sand from her breeches and stretched
out her hand.

"Let's hotfoot it down to the African village and see what the
movies are doing that is interesting today," she proposed.



CHAPTER XXI. Shifting the Responsibility

On her pillow that night before dropping to almost instantaneous
sleep Linda reflected that if you could not ride the King's
Highway, racing the sands of Santa Monica was a very excellent
substitute. It had been a wonderful day after all. When she had
left Donald at the Lilac Valley end of the car line he had held
her hand tight an instant and looked into her face with the most
engaging of clear, boyish smiles.

"Linda, isn't our friendship the nicest thing that ever happened
to us?" he demanded.

"Yes," answered Linda promptly, "quite the nicest. Make your
plans for all day long next Saturday."