“No, I’m not a poor dear Diana,” she answered, smiling,—“I’m a dead and gone Diana! You will see me in the leading obituary columns of the newspapers to-morrow!”
“But how——”
“The how and the when and the why are thus!” and Diana played with the silken tassels of the girdle which belted in the dainty chiffon and lace of her friend’s tea-gown. “This very morning, as ever was, I went for my usual morning dip in the sea at a cove not a quarter of a mile away from the house. I knew that at a certain hour there would be a high tide, which, of course, on any other day I would have avoided. I went to the spot, dressed in two of everything——”
“Two of everything?” Sophy murmured bewilderedly.
“Yes, you pretty little thick-head! Two of everything! Don’t you see? Being as thin as a clothes’-prop, that was easy for me. Two ‘combys,’—two chemises, two petticoats, two serge gowns,—having no figure I wear no corsets, so I didn’t have two of those. Two pairs of knickers, two pairs of stockings,—one pair of shoes on, another pair off and carried secretly under my bathing gown along with my felt hat, as to start with I wore a black straw one. Then, when I got to the cove, I disrobed myself of one set of garments, and put them with my straw hat and one pair of shoes all in an orderly heap on a rock out of the way of the water, as any sensible person preparing to bathe would do. Then I waited for the high tide. It came swiftly and surely, and soon filled the cove,—big waves came with it, rolling in with a splendid dash and roar, and at the proper psychological moment, I threw in all my bathing things, as far out to sea as I could from the summit of the rock where I stood—I saw them whirled round and round in the whelming flood!—in the whelming flood, Sophy!—where my dear Pa and Ma believe I also have been whelmed! Then, when they had nearly disappeared in the hollow of a receding mass of water, I put on my felt hat, and, completely clothed in my one set of decent garments, I quietly walked away.”
“Walked away? Where to?”
“Not to the nearest railway station, you may be sure!” replied Diana. “I might have been known there and traced. I’m a good walker, and it was quite early—only a little after seven,—so I struck across some fields and went inland for about six or eight miles. Then I came upon a little out-of-the-way station connected with a branch line to London—happily a train was just due, and I took it. I had saved five pounds on the housekeeping last month,—I had intended to give them back to my mother—but—considering everything—I felt I might take that small sum for myself without so much as a prick of conscience! So that’s my story—and here I am!”
“And here you’ll stay!” said Sophy eagerly. “Not a soul shall know who you are——”
“I’ll stay for two or three days, but not longer,” said Diana. “I want to get abroad as quickly as possible. And I’m afraid I shall have to ask you to lend me a little money——”
“I’ll lend or give you anything you want,” interrupted Sophy quickly. “Surely you know that!”