LITMIR.BIZ

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"What's all this I hear about you, young lady?" he demanded, holding her hand and looking her straight in the eye. "Is this a new kind of Prodigal Daughter we're encountering?"

      He did not look nor sound condemnatory, and as she faced him she caught a twinkle in the wise old eyes.

      "You can call it that if you want to," she said, "Only I thought the Prodigal Son just spent his money—I'm going to earn some."

      "I want you to talk to Diantha, Doctor Major," Mrs. Bell struck in. "I'm going to ask you to excuse me, and go and lie down for a little. I do believe she'll listen to you more than to anybody."

      The mother retired, feeling sure that the good man who had known her daughter for over fifteen years would have a restraining influence now; and Diantha braced herself for the attack.

      It came, heavy and solid, based on reason, religion, tradition, the custom of ages, the pastoral habit of control and protection, the father's instinct, the man's objection to a girl's adventure. But it was courteous, kind, and rationally put, and she met it point by point with the whole-souled arguments of a new position, the passionate enthusiasm of her years.

      They called a truce.

      "I can see that you think its your duty, young, woman—that's the main thing. I think you're wrong. But what you believe to be right you have to do. That's the way we learn my dear, that's the way we learn! Well—you've been a good child ever since I've known you. A remarkably good child. If you have to sow this kind of wild oats—" they both smiled at this, "I guess we can't stop you. I'll keep your secret—"

      "Its not a secret really," the girl explained, "I'll tell them as soon as I'm settled. Then they can tell—if they want to." And they both smiled again.

      "Well—I won't tell till I hear of it then. And—yes, I guess I can furnish that document with a clean conscience."

      She gave him paper and pen and he wrote, with a grin, handing her the result.

      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!"

      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 gratitude, 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 stitch, 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

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