"O Dr. Major," cried her mother from the window, "Don't go! We want you to stay to supper of course!"

But he had other calls to make, he said, and went away, his big hands clasped behind him; his head bent, smiling one minute and shaking his head the next.

Diantha leaned against a pearly eucalyptus trunk and watched him. She would miss Dr. Major. But who was this approaching? Her heart sank miserably. Mrs. Warden--and _all_ the girls.

She went to meet them--perforce. Mrs. Warden had always been kind and courteous to her; the girls she had not seen very much of, but they had the sweet Southern manner, were always polite. Ross's mother she must love. Ross's sisters too--if she could. Why did the bottom drop out of her courage at sight of them?

"You dear child!" said Mrs. Warden, kissing her. "I know just how you feel! You want to help my boy! That's your secret! But this won't do it, my dear!"

"You've no idea how badly Ross feels!" said Madeline. "Mrs. Delafield dropped in just now and told us. You ought to have seen him!"

"He didn't believe it of course," Adeline put in. "And he wouldn't say a thing--not a thing to blame you."

"We said we'd come over right off--and tried to bring him--but he said he'd got to go back to the store," Coraline explained.

"He was mad though!" said Dora--"_I_ know."

Diantha looked from one to the other helplessly.

"Come in! Come in!" said Mrs. Bell hospitably. "Have this rocker, Mrs.

Warden--wouldn't you like some cool drink? Diantha?"

"No indeed!" Mrs. Warden protested. "Don't get a thing. We're going right back, it's near supper time. No, we can't think of staying, of course not, no indeed!--But we had to come over and hear about this dear child's idea!--Now tell us all about it, Diantha!"

There they sat--five pairs of curious eyes--and her mother's sad ones--all kind--all utterly incapable of understanding.

She moistened her lips and plunged desperately. "It is nothing dreadful, Mrs. Warden. Plenty of girls go away to earn their livings nowadays. That is all I'm doing."

"But why go away?"

"I thought you were earning your living before!"

"Isn't teaching earning your living?"

"What _are_ you going to do?" the girls protested variously, and Mrs.

Warden, with a motherly smile, suggested--

"That doesn't explain your wanting to leave Ross, my dear--and your mother!"

"I don't want to leave them," protested Diantha, trying to keep her voice steady. "It is simply that I have made up my mind I can do better elsewhere."

"Do what better?" asked Mrs. Warden with sweet patience, which reduced Diantha to the bald statement, "Earn more money in less time."

"And is that better than staying with your mother and your lover?"

pursued the gentle inquisitor; while the girls tried, "What do you want to earn more money for?" and "I thought you earned a lot before."

Now Diantha did not wish to state in so many words that she wanted more money in order to marry sooner--she had hardly put it to herself that way. She could not make them see in a few moments that her plan was to do far more for her mother than she would otherwise ever be able to.

And as to making them understand the larger principles at stake--the range and depth of her full purpose--that would be physically impossible.

"I am sorry!" she said with trembling lips. "I am extremely sorry.

But--I cannot explain!"

Mrs. Warden drew herself up a little. "Cannot explain to me?--Your mother, of course, knows?"

"Diantha is naturally more frank with me than with--anyone," said Mrs.

Bell proudly, "But she does not wish her--business--plans--made public at present!"

Her daughter looked at her with vivid grat.i.tude, but the words "made public" were a little unfortunate perhaps.

"Of course," Mrs. Warden agreed, with her charming smile, "that we can quite understand. I'm sure I should always wish my girls to feel so.

Madeline--just show Mrs. Bell that necktie you're making--she was asking about the st.i.tch, you remember."

The necktie was produced and admired, while the other girls asked Diantha if she had her fall dressmaking done yet--and whether she found wash ribbon satisfactory. And presently the whole graceful family withdrew, only Dora holding her head with visible stiffness.

Diantha sat on the floor by her mother, put her head in her lap and cried. "How splendid of you, Mother!" she sobbed. "How simply splendid! I will tell you now--if--if--you won't tell even Father--yet."

"Dear child" said her Mother, "I'd rather not know in that case. It is--easier."

"That's what I kept still for!" said the girl. "It's hard enough, goodness knows--as it is! Its nothing wicked, or even risky, Mother dear--and as far as I can see it is right!"

Her mother smiled through her tears. "If you say that, my dear child, I know there's no stopping you. And I hate to argue with you--even for your own sake, because it is so much to my advantage to have you here.

I--shall miss you--Diantha!"

"Don't, Mother!" sobbed the girl.

"Its natural for the young to go. We expect it--in time. But you are so young yet--and--well, I had hoped the teaching would satisfy you till Ross was ready."

Diantha sat up straight.

"Mother! can't you see Ross'll never be ready! Look at that family!

And the way they live! And those mortgages! I could wait and teach and save a little even with Father always losing money; but I can't see Ross wearing himself out for years and years--I just _can't_ bear it!"

Her mother stroked her fair hair softly, not surprised that her own plea was so lost in thought of the brave young lover.

"And besides," the girl went on "If I waited--and saved--and married Ross--what becomes of _you,_ I'd like to know? What I can't stand is to have you grow older and sicker--and never have any good time in all your life!"

Mrs. Bell smiled tenderly. "You dear child!" she said; as if an affectionate five-year old had offered to get her a rainbow, "I know you mean it all for the best. But, O my _dearest_! I'd rather have you--here--at home with me---than any other 'good time' you can imagine!"

She could not see the suffering in her daughter's face; but she felt she had made an impression, and followed it up with heart-breaking sincerity. She caught the girl to her breast and held her like a little child. "O my baby! my baby! Don't leave your mother. I can't bear it!"

A familiar step outside, heavy, yet uncertain, and they both looked at each other with frightened eyes.

They had forgotten the biscuit.

"Supper ready?" asked Mr. Bell, with grim humor.

"It will be in a moment, Father," cried Diantha springing to her feet.

"At least--in a few moments."