“She's foolish, I admit,” said Diantha,—“but she doesn't realize her danger at all. I've tried to make her. And now I'm more worried than ever. It seems rather hard to discharge her—she needs care.”
“I'll speak to that young man myself,” said Mrs. Weatherstone. “I'll speak to his grandmother too!”
“O—would you?” urged Diantha. “She wouldn't believe anything except that the girl 'led him on'—you know that. But I have an idea that we could convince her—if you're willing to do something rather melodramatic—and I think we'd better do it to-night!”
“What's that?” asked her employer; and Diantha explained. It was melodramatic, but promised to be extremely convincing.
“Do you think he'd dare! under my roof?” hotly demanded Madam Weatherstone.
“I'm very much afraid it wouldn't be the first time,” Diantha reluctantly assured her. “It's no use being horrified. But if we could only make sure—”
“If we could only make his grandmother sure!” cried Madam Weatherstone. “That would save me a deal of trouble and misunderstanding. See here—I think I can manage it—what makes you think it's to-night?”
“I can't be absolutely certain—” Diantha explained; and told her the reasons she had.
“It does look so,” her employer admitted. “We'll try it at any rate.”
Urging her mother-in-law's presence on the ground of needing her experienced advice, Mrs. Weatherstone brought the august lady to the room next to Ilda's late that evening, the housekeeper in attendance.