. . as if, somehow, Diana had gone forward into a new world, shutting
a gate behind her, leaving Anne on the outside.

"Things are changing so fast it almost frightens me," Anne thought,
a little sadly. "And I'm afraid that this can't help making some
difference between Diana and me. I'm sure I can't tell her all my
secrets after this . . . she might tell Fred. And what CAN she see in
Fred? He's very nice and jolly . . . but he's just Fred Wright."

It is always a very puzzling question . . . what can somebody see in
somebody else? But how fortunate after all that it is so, for if
everybody saw alike . . . well, in that case, as the old Indian said,
"Everybody would want my squaw." It was plain that Diana DID see
something in Fred Wright, however Anne's eyes might be holden. Diana
came to Green Gables the next evening, a pensive, shy young lady, and
told Anne the whole story in the dusky seclusion of the east gable. Both
girls cried and kissed and laughed.

"I'm so happy," said Diana, "but it does seem ridiculous to think of me
being engaged."

"What is it really like to be engaged?" asked Anne curiously.

"Well, that all depends on who you're engaged to," answered Diana, with
that maddening air of superior wisdom always assumed by those who are
engaged over those who are not. "It's perfectly lovely to be engaged to
Fred . . . but I think it would be simply horrid to be engaged to anyone
else."

"There's not much comfort for the rest of us in that, seeing that there
is only one Fred," laughed Anne.

"Oh, Anne, you don't understand," said Diana in vexation. "I didn't
mean THAT . . . it's so hard to explain. Never mind, you'll understand
sometime, when your own turn comes."

"Bless you, dearest of Dianas, I understand now. What is an imagination
for if not to enable you to peep at life through other people's eyes?"

"You must be my bridesmaid, you know, Anne. Promise me that . . .
wherever you may be when I'm married."

"I'll come from the ends of the earth if necessary," promised Anne
solemnly.

"Of course, it won't be for ever so long yet," said Diana, blushing.
"Three years at the very least . . . for I'm only eighteen and mother says
no daughter of hers shall be married before she's twenty-one. Besides,
Fred's father is going to buy the Abraham Fletcher farm for him and he
says he's got to have it two thirds paid for before he'll give it to him
in his own name. But three years isn't any too much time to