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"She isn't doing a thing more than most girls do she's only a little fool. And he's not doing anything I can complain of yet." But she worried over it a good deal, and Mrs. Weatherstone noticed it. "Doesn't your pet club house go well, 'Miss Bell? You seem troubled about something." "I am," Diantha admitted. "I believe I'll have to tell you about it but I hate to.
News of this marvel of efficiency and propriety was discussed in every household, and not only so but in barber-shops and other downtown meeting places mentioned. Servants gathered it at dinner-tables; and Diantha, much amused, regathered it from her new friends among the servants. "Does she keep on just the same?" asked little Mrs. Ree of Mrs. Porne in an awed whisper.
Sinclair on the street near the hotel one afternoon, and she asked me to call." "That's why she was in such a hurry for the net," thought Persis. Aloud she said: "Her Diantha is an awfully pretty girl, as much of a belle as ever her mother was." "No? I haven't happened to see the girl, but it's hard to think of Mrs. Sinclair as the mother of a grown daughter."
The foreign visitors were much interested in the young Amazon of Industry, as the Prince insisted on calling her; and even the German Count for a moment forgot his ancestors in her pleasant practical talk. Mrs. Weatherstone had taken pains to call upon the Wardens claiming a connection, if not a relationship, and to invite them all. And as the crowd grew bigger and bigger, Diantha saw Mrs.
There came a day, however, when the man left town, and not twenty-four hours later, Phineas, with a gleaming thing of paint and polish, stood at Diantha's door. "Now ain't that pretty," quavered Diantha excitedly. "Ain't that awful pretty!" Phineas beamed. "Purty slick, I think myself," he acknowledged. "An' green is so much nicer than red," cooed Diantha.
Eltwood had been a warm friend and cordial supporter from the epoch of the Club-splitting speech. He had helped materially in the slow, up-hill days of the girl's effort, with faith and kind words. He had met the mother's coming with most friendly advances, and Mrs. Bell found herself much at home in his liberal little church. Diantha had grown to like and trust him much.
Bell, though an ineffectual housekeeper, did not fail in the children. They had grown up big and vigorous, sturdy, handsome creatures, especially the two younger ones. Diantha was good-looking enough. Roscoe Warden thought her divinely beautiful. But her young strength had been heavily taxed from childhood in that complex process known as "helping mother."
Furthermore, Lady Diantha Mainwaring was moderately the talk of the town, in those prim, remotely ante-bellum days thanks to high spirits and a whimsical tendency to flout the late Victorian proprieties; something which, however, had yet to lead her into any prank perilous to her good repute.
"They matter very much," said Grandmother Wheeler, pugnaciously, her blue eyes taking on a peculiar opaque glint, as always when she lost her temper, "very much indeed. But looks can't be helped. If poor little Amelia wasn't born with pretty looks, she wasn't. But she wasn't born with such ugly clothes. She might be better dressed." "I dress my daughter as I consider best," said Mrs. Diantha.
She had yielded as the most self-willed must on occasion to the assumption of her little world that this was the place where she would wish to be. But the first glimpse of Diantha had convinced her that her shrinking recoil had been well-grounded.
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