rning your living before!"

"Isn't teaching earning your living?"

"What _are_ you going to do?" the girls protested variously, and Mrs.
Warden, with a motherly smile, suggested!!!!!

"That doesn't explain your wanting to leave Ross, my dear--and your
mother!"

"I don't want to leave them," protested Diantha, trying to keep her
voice steady. "It is simply that I have made up my mind I can do better
elsewhere."

"Do what better?" asked Mrs. Warden with sweet patience, which reduced
Diantha to the bald statement, "Earn more money in less time."

"And is that better than staying with your mother and your lover?"
pursued the gentle inquisitor; while the girls tried, "What do you want
to earn more money for?" and "I thought you earned a lot before."

Now Diantha did not wish to state in so many words that she wanted more
money in order to marry sooner--she had hardly put it to herself that
way. She could not make them see in a few moments that her plan was to
do far more for her mother than she would otherwise ever be able to. And
as to making them understand the larger principles at stake--the range
and depth of her full purpose--that would be physically impossible.

"I am sorry!" she said with trembling lips. "I am extremely sorry.
But--I cannot explain!"

Mrs. Warden drew herself up a little. "Cannot explain to me?--Your
mother, of course, knows?"

"Diantha is naturally more frank with me than with--anyone," said Mrs.
Bell proudly, "But she does not wish her--business--plans--made public
at present!"

Her daughter looked at her with vivid gratitude, but the words "made
public" were a little unfortunate perhaps.

"Of course," Mrs. Warden agreed, with her charming smile, "that we can
quite understand. I'm sure I should always wish my girls to feel so.
Madeline--just show Mrs. Bell that necktie you're making--she was asking
about the stitch, you remember."

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