I was walking down some small but fashionable street, and a car went by.  I thought the girl in the back seat was Linda Forestt.  I waved when it had gone by, and the girl waved back.  Just then I heard someone say, "Hi Gilbert," and it was Linda, katty-cornered across the street.  I went over to her; Rover was with me.  She was inside a picket fence with a nice big cat and a lot of tiny kittens.