"Make me believe that! There's a good deal of show about it, anyhow, with such a chain hanging to it."
"My husband gave it to me, you know, chain and all; I must wear it,"
Diana said with a face as sweet as the roses.
"Oh yes! your husband!" Mrs. Starling answered insultingly. "That will do to say to other people. Much you care what your husband does!"
Diana got up here, left her churn, came up to her mother, and put a hand upon her arm. The action and air of the woman were so commanding, that even Mrs. Starling stood still with a certain involuntary deference. Diana's face and voice, however, were as clear and calm as they were commanding.
"Mother,"—she said,—"you are mistaken. I care with all there is of me; heart and soul and life."
Mrs. Starling's eye shrank away. "Since when?" she asked incredulously.
"It does not matter since when. Whatever I have ever felt for other people, there is only one person in the world that I care for now; and that is, my husband."
"You'd better tell him so," sneered Mrs. Starling. "When do you expect your butter is going to come, if you stand there?"
"The butter is come," said Diana gently. She knew the sneer was meant to cover uneasy feeling; and if it had not, still she would not have resented it. She never resented anything now that was done to herself. In came Josh with the foaming pails. Diana's hands were in the butter, and her mother came to strain the milk.
"There had ought to be three quarts more, that ain't here," she grumbled.