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Updated: September 24, 2025
"I didn't know you and Thad had much chance to talk things over nowadays." "They won't let him come to the house. They say I'm too young." Diantha laughed mockingly. "And mother was only a little older when she married father, and she was engaged twice before that." "I suppose you keep on seeing him just the same." "Course I do." Persis mused.
"Henderson's a boy, and boys have to go, of course. A mother expects that. But a girl Why, Diantha! How can I get along without you! With my health!" "I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself to think of such a thing!" said young Mrs. Peters. A slow step sounded outside, and an elderly man, tall, slouching, carelessly dressed, entered, stumbling a little over the rag-mat at the door.
Then came Mrs. Bell, returned from a shopping trip, and sank down in a wicker rocker, glad of the shade and a cup of tea. No, she didn't want it iced. "Hot tea makes you cooler," was her theory. "You don't look very tired," said the girl. "Seems to me you get stronger all the time." "I do," said her mother. "You don't realize, you can't realize, Diantha, what this means to me.
The horror of the situation was not lessened by its grotesqueness. "The worst of it is that everybody in this dreadful little town knows all about it," she thought with a sense of panic. "People haven't anything to do but remember dates." She wondered if she could prevail upon her husband to go west, leaving Diantha in school somewhere.
"I want to do it as quickly as I can, for reasons," answered Diantha. Mr. Eltwood looked at her with tender understanding. "I don't want to intrude any further than you are willing to want me," he said, "but sometimes I think that even you strong as you are would be better for some help." She did not contradict him. Her hands were in her lap, her eyes on the worn boards of the piazza floor.
She read it, a girlish giggle lightening the atmosphere. "Thank you!" she said earnestly. "Thank you ever so much. I knew you would help me." "If you get stuck anywhere just let me know," he said rising. "This Proddy Gal may want a return ticket yet!" "I'll walk first!" said Diantha. "O Dr. Major," cried her mother from the window, "Don't go! We want you to stay to supper of course!"
Diantha took some socks and set to work, red-checked and excited, but silent yet. Her mother's needle trembled irregularly under and over, and a tear or two slid down her cheeks. Finally Mr. Bell laid down his finished paper and his emptied pipe and said, "Now then. Out with it." This was not a felicitious opening.
I've seen a good many of 'em first and last, and I told Diantha I'd never set eyes on a finer baby." A curious distortion of Annabel's face broke off Persis' eulogy. "Are you feeling sick, Mis' Sinclair?" she asked in real alarm, thinking that she would never have given Annabel credit for this excess of material solicitude. "Sick? Yes, I'm sick of everything. I'm glad that child's a boy.
Diantha held her mother in her arms the night she came, and cried tike a baby. "O mother dear!" she sobbed, "I'd no idea I should miss you so much. O you blessed comfort!" Her mother cried a bit too; she enjoyed this daughter more than either of her older children, and missed her more.
Some amused themselves with light reading, a few studied, others met and walked outside. The sense of honest leisure grew upon them, with its broadening influence; and among her thirty Diantha found four or five who were able and ambitious, and willing to work heartily for the further development of the business. Her two housemaids were specially selected.
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