And he's not doing anything I can complain of--yet." But she worried over it a good deal, and Mrs.Weatherstone noticed it.
"Doesn't your pet club house go well, 'Miss Bell ?' You seem troubled about something." "I am," Diantha admitted.

"I believe I'll have to tell you about it--but I hate to.

Perhaps if you'll come and look I shan't have to say much." 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.