"They just call it 'dialect' in so many places," said Lassie, wisely.
Alva smiled again. "Yes, they do," she assented.
"And now for Miss Lathbun's story?" suggested the girl.
"Yes, certainly. Well, my dear, you see, I was sitting here alone one evening, and she came to the door and—and somehow she came in and we fell to talking. You know how easy it is for any one to talk to me, and after a while she told me her romance."
Lassie's eyes opened. "To think of a girl like that having a romance! Please go on."
Alva hesitated, then smiled a little. "I suppose I can trust you to keep a secret?" she asked.
Lassie began: "Why, of—" and then stopped suddenly, remembering the morning's betrayal, and blushed crimson.
Alva leaned forward and touched her cheek with one petting finger.
"Dear," she said, "don't feel distressed. I know that you told Ronald and I don't mind."
"You know!" cried Lassie, astonished.