Fanny hesitated, looking down at the fire so as to keep the brim of her hat between her eyes and Diane’s.
“Well, you know they’re great gossips, papa and your father. I suppose he called up for something else, and then added that. Men are awfully casual about our dearest concerns! Papa’s been asking the judge’s advice about the changes at the seminary, you see.”
“Perhaps that was it,” Diane admitted with a feeling of relief. “He’s anxious to have me settled down, too. It seems I’ve been on his mind,” she added with an odd little laugh.
There was a second of hesitation before Fanny answered, and this time Diane noticed a strange tone in the girl’s voice.
“You’re going to be married soon, then?”
Diane busied herself rearranging two old bronze vases on the high colonial mantel. The storks and the coiled dragons that surrounded them in high relief had been among the wonders of her childhood.
“I don’t know—how should I? You see, Fanny, Mr. Faunce is going to be made the head of the new expedition, but papa doesn’t want him to go. He wants him to stay here and go into politics.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Fanny, just above her breath.
“But I want him to go.”
“Oh!” her visitor gasped again. “Why, he might die, too! If I were you, I’d never let him go!”