"He is such a droll creature," said Mrs. Wilbur, with a reminiscent smile. "It's such a queer place here," she went on with a puzzled brow. "You could put this whole Inn into the ballroom at Newport, and there isn't space enough to turn around in the little rooms; yet out of doors it is all space, and something in the air makes you want to run and jump. I might as well tell you, Diana, my mind is just getting set at rest on the subject of Mr. Barrison. Your craze for this place seemed unnatural, and when I first saw him in Boston, I suspected that he was the cause." The lady met her daughter's calm eyes which contradicted her changing color. "What should have disturbed you about that?" asked the girl quietly. "Disturbed me! That you should have come off here alone and fallen in love with nobody knows who?" "Oh, a good many people are learning who. That is really the chief trouble with him: I mean from a girl's standpoint. He is rapidly becoming one of the stars of the musical world." "And why is that a drawback?" Mrs. Wilbur began to feel somewhat bewildered by her daughter's attitude. Diana's color was rather high, but she turned toward her mother with entire calm. "I am not going to marry a man whom other women besiege. My husband will be rather short. I think he will stoop and be nearsighted and wear spectacles. He will incline to baldness, but he will be very charming--to me, and he will be mine." The smile that accompanied this declaration was so winning that Mrs. Wilbur was startled. "Diana, have you met any such person?" she returned. "I don't like the sound of him at all!" "Not yet," admitted Diana. "But I keep him in mind. He fights off other types." "Supposing," said Mrs. Wilbur sharply, "some very desirable man, as attractive as Mr. Barrison, for instance, were to say he wouldn't marry you, because you are too pretty--other men would look at you." "You do think he is attractive, do you, Mamma?" "Why--certainly," returned Mrs. Wilbur, not quite sure even yet that the admission was safe. "The cases are not parallel," said Diana. "Women as a rule are more faithful, and men are conceited. The average man must have severe lessons before he believes that the woman who has loved him will turn to some one else." "Why, Diana, I am surprised at you. You talk in such a sophisticated way; but, my dear, let me remind you that you have some one beside yourself to please when you marry. Your father may give you an unlimited check-book, but he won't give you _carte blanche_ when it comes to marrying. He isn't going to welcome into the family any insignificant little scarecrow such as you are counting on." If Philip wanted to hear Diana laugh, it was a pity he wasn't near now, for she burst forth so merrily that Veronica peeped out the window. "I see you are going to be as difficult as I am, Mamma," she said at last.