Several evenings later, at supper, Tom Allen remarked that the Snows were coming over to spend the evening, and he wondered if they could have some games in the front yard, as it was a bright, moonlight night. Both Diantha and Ellen were waiting upon the table, and no one for the moment seemed anxious to answer Tom's remark. Sister Winthrop, as well as Aunt Clara, had evidently heard something of recent events, and both were very serious and quiet. But the others of this large and oddly assorted family assemblage had heard nothing, and accordingly the idea of having some games to help pass away the brief summer evening with plenty of music of concertina and accordion was received with general favor. It was a little puzzling to Diantha to see the lover-like attention of John Stevens to her friend Ellen that evening. They sat together, they chose each other for every game, they talked together in the most confidential manner, and at last ended by going off together for a walk before the evening was half over. Of course, she had seen them act just that way before; but then she had cared nothing whatever about it; John was always very queer, and she never knew quite how to take him. In fact, that was about the only reason she had retained the slightest interest in him. A girl does so dislike a man who lets her know all there is to know about himself! A little discreet reserve is such a charm in a man. Now, my lady Dian felt that she had been actuated by a very uncommon feeling down in the grove, and she had actually stooped to ask a man to do a favor for her own sweet sake if he loved her, forsooth. Certainly that man ought to respond by devoting himself to her at once and forever. And that man was doing the very opposite thing. Dian had forgotten that she was wearing Charlie Rose's ring; had quite forgotten all that might be involved or inferred from such a circumstance. She watched and waited for their return from the walk, feeling for the first time in her life, that somebody had slighted her. It was not altogether an accident that she sat under the cottonwood tree on the return of the two, nor was it wholly by design that my lady looked like the very spirit of the night, with her simple white dress, her pale yellow gleaming hair breaking about her face in rings and waves, while her white arms, bared to the elbow, rested on her lap and deadened the white of her dress by their warm, creamy tints. Charlie Rose stood at a little distance, evidently enjoying every detail of the beautiful picture as he leaned on the rude bars of the fence near Dian. Ellen came up to Dian, and as John sat down on one side of her, she slid close to her friend on the other side, and put her arms lovingly around her neck. "Oh, Dian, isn't the night lovely?" "Yes, dear, it is. But it is getting late and we must go in."