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 never be ready! Look at that family! And the way they live! And those mortgages! I could wait and teach and save a little even with Father always losing money; but I can't see Ross wearing himself out for years and years--I just _can't_ bear it!” Her mother stroked her fair hair softly, not surprised that her own plea was so lost in thought of the brave young lover. “And besides,” the girl went on “If I waited--and saved--and married Ross--what becomes of _you,_ I'd like to know? What I can't stand is to have you grow older and sicker--and never have any good time in all your life!” Mrs. Bell smiled tenderly. “You dear child!” she said; as if an affectionate five-year old had offered to get her a rainbow, “I know you mean it all for the best. But, O my _dearest_! I'd rather have you--here--at home with me---than any other 'good time' you can imagine!” She could not see the suffering in her daughter's face; but she felt she had made an impression, and followed it up with heart-breaking sincerity. She caught the girl to her breast and held her like a little child. “O my baby! my baby! Don't leave your mother. I can't bear it!” A familiar step outside, heavy, yet uncertain, and they both looked at each other with frightened eyes. They had forgotten the biscuit. “Supper ready?” asked Mr. Bell, with grim humor. “It will be in a moment, Father,” cried Diantha springing to her feet. “At least--in a few moments.” “Don't fret the child, Father,” said Mrs. Henderson softly. “She's feeling bad enough.” “Sh'd think she would,” replied her husband. “Moreover--to my mind--she ought to.”