"Why in the world should you?"
"Because all ladies must do that—let me show you." So saying she took the book, turned over a leaf or so, and putting it into my hand, bade me read aloud, which I did, as follows:
"'UPON RECEIVING A PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE. On this trying occasion, should the answer be in the affirmative, yield the hand coyly and by degrees to the passion of the happy suitor's lips; at the same time the lashes must droop, the whole form tremble with maiden modesty, the breath must falter and the bosom surge a little, though perceptibly—'"
My voice faltered and in spite of my efforts I burst out laughing, while Jeremy began to hammer again; whereupon Diana wrested the book from me and stood, flushed and angry, viewing me in lofty disdain.
"O Diana," I pleaded, "don't be offended, and don't—do not trouble your dear head over that foolish book—"
"Foolish!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Why, it's to teach ladies how to behave, and written by—"
"By a snuffy old rascal in some pothouse, like as not, Diana—" Here she turned and hasted away, but I sped after her and seeing the quiver of her lips and her dear eyes a-swim with tears, my own grew moist also.
"O Peregrine," sighed she, "I thought the book was foolish too—but for your sake—to be a lady—"
"O girl!" I cried, clasping her to me. "Dear goddess of the Silent Places, you are above all such silly pettinesses as this book; no woodland nymph or dryad could ever learn such paltry affectations and Diana herself would look a fool with a fan or a reticule. It is your own sweet, natural self I love, just as you are and for what you are."
"But you're a gentleman and I ought to be a lady."