She led her to a window that looked on the garden, the rich, vivid, flower-crowded garden of Southern California by the sea. Little Ilda, in a fresh black frock and snowy, frilly cap and apron, ran out to get a rose; and while she sniffed and dallied they saw Mr. Mathew saunter out and join her. The girl was not as severe with him as she ought to have been--that was evident; but it was also evident that she was frightened and furious when he suddenly held her fast and kissed her with much satisfaction. As soon as her arms were free she gave him a slap that sounded smartly even at that distance; and ran crying into the house. “She's foolish, I admit,” said Diantha,--“but she doesn't realize her danger at all. I've tried to make her. And now I'm more worried than ever. It seems rather hard to discharge her--she needs care.” “I'll speak to that young man myself,” said Mrs. Weatherstone. “I'll speak to his grandmother too!” “O--would you?” urged Diantha. “She wouldn't believe anything except that the girl 'led him on'--you know that. But I have an idea that we could convince her--if you're willing to do something rather melodramatic--and I think we'd better do it to-night!” “What's that?” asked her employer; and Diantha explained. It was melodramatic, but promised to be extremely convincing. “Do you think he'd dare! under my roof?” hotly demanded Madam Weatherstone. “I'm very much afraid it wouldn't be the first time,” Diantha reluctantly assured her. “It's no use being horrified. But if we could only make _sure_--” “If we could only make his grandmother sure!” cried Madam Weatherstone. “That would save me a deal of trouble and misunderstanding. See here--I think I can manage it--what makes you think it's to-night?” “I can't be absolutely certain--” Diantha explained; and told her the reasons she had. “It does look so,” her employer admitted. “We'll try it at any rate.” Urging her mother-in-law's presence on the ground of needing her experienced advice, Mrs. Weatherstone brought the august lady to the room next to Ilda's late that evening, the housekeeper in attendance. “We mustn't wake the servants,” she said in an elaborate whisper. “They need sleep, poor things! But I want to consult you about these communicating doors and the locksmith is coming in the morning.--you see this opens from this side.” She turned the oiled key softly in the lock. “Now Miss Bell thinks they ought to be left so--so that the girls can visit one another if they like--what do you think?” “I think you are absurd to bring me to the top floor, at this time of night, for a thing like this!” said the old lady. “They should be permanently locked, to my mind! There's no question about it.”