“But think of the cost,” said Aunt Elsie, aching for sympathy.
Diana affected surprise. Did Aunt Elsie mean that she minded what Uncle Marcus thought of her? “It wasn’t as if you wanted to marry him, darling?” she said, seeking to comfort her.
Marry him? Elsie was horrified at the mere thought; but argued that, although you might not want to marry a man, you might not necessarily want to appear an idiot in his eyes. Further, she vowed Diana must have marrying on the brain to have thought of such a thing; and Diana said, What if she had? Whereupon Elsie understood everything in a flash, as it were (so she said). Diana, steadying her, begged her not to understand too much—it was so dangerous—so bewildering—and so overwhelming—it should come gradually, not like an avalanche.
“But you must tell me, darling; think what I have done for you,” pleaded Aunt Elsie. She deserved some reward.
There was nothing to tell. Diana said she had muddled it all. Then there had been something! It could be put right—there was no muddle so bad that an aunt couldn’t straighten it out! All eagerness was Elsie.
“Isn’t there?” asked Diana. “Uncles and aunts are wonderful people.” And she would say nothing more.
“It was rather brilliant on my part, though, wasn’t it?” asked Aunt Elsie, still longing for praise—if she had seemed foolish she would at least have been foolish in a good cause.
“Don’t forget the dogs!” said Diana.
XX
It’s a wide gulf that the arms of a child cannot bridge.