"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.
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