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Updated: October 24, 2025
From her heart she pitied the reacher after those high-hanging sour grapes, for Mrs. Diantha had been very good to her. Then Grandmother Wheeler, who had a mild persistency not evident to a casual observer, began to make plans and lay plots. She was resolved, Diantha or not, that her granddaughter, her son's child, should have some fine feathers.
"Why, does not Amelia dress perfectly well, mother?" she inquired. "She dresses well enough, but she needs more ribbons and ruffles." "I do not approve of so many ribbons and ruffles," said Mrs. Diantha. "Amelia has perfectly neat, fresh black or brown ribbons for her hair, and ruffles are not sanitary." "Ruffles are pretty," said Grandmother Wheeler, "and blue and pink are pretty colors.
Diantha glanced quickly at him, and felt the emotion under his quiet words. She withdrew her eyes, looking quite the other way. "You are enough of a friend to know, Mr. Eltwood," she said, "I rather thought you did know. I am engaged."
Mr. Bell regarded his daughter with a stern, slow stare; not so much surprised as annoyed by an untimely jesting. He ate a hot biscuit in two un-Fletcherized mouthfuls, and put more sugar in his large cup of tea. "You've got your Mother all worked up with your nonsense," said he. "What are you talking about anyway?" Diantha met his eyes unflinchingly.
To the eye or ear of any casual visitor it was the simplest and most natural affair, calculated to "elevate labor" and to make home happy. Diantha studied and observed. They brought her their poor confidences, painfully similar. Always poverty or they would not be there. Always ignorance, or they would not stay there.
By nine o'clock, the second of the alternatives seemed to Diantha the more serious. She stole into her mother's room, and stationing herself by the bed, spoke in the softest of voices; "Mama, your new dress " The opening showed a tact creditable to her years.
Phineas's chin came up. "Run it!" he scoffed. "Well, I hain't had no trouble yet steerin' a hoss, an' I cal'late I won't have any more steerin' a mess o' senseless metal what hain't got no eyes ter be seein' things an' gittin' scared! I don't worry none 'bout runnin' it." "But, Phineas, it ain't all steerin'," ventured Diantha, timidly.
What twenty families spend on individual patronage of small retailers, could be reduced by more than half if bought by competent persons in wholesale quantities. Moreover, our whole food supply would rise in quality as well as lower in price if it was bought by experts. "To what does all this lead?" asked Diantha pleasantly.
"I should think it was a disgrace to the family, and a direct reproach to me," he answered. "But it's no use talking about that. None of the girls have any such foolish notion. And I wouldn't permit it if they had." Diantha smiled. "I suppose you never would permit your wife to work?" "My widow might have to not my wife." He held his fine head a trifle higher, and her hand ached for a moment.
Even the lunch patronage began to fall off. Diantha was puzzled a little alarmed. Her slow, steady lifting of the prejudice against her was checked. She could not put her finger on the enemy, yet felt one distinctly, and had her own suspicions. But she also had her new move well arranged by this time.
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