"Why would you?" Diana said, quite quietly.
"That I might correct your mistakes, of course."
"Suppose I made any mistakes," said Diana, "you could only tell me that you thought differently. I don't see that I should be much wiser."
"I find I made a mistake about you!" he said, laughing again, but shaking his head. "But every person is like a new language to those that see him for the first time; don't you think so? One has to learn the signs of the language by degrees, before one can read it off like a book."
"I never thought about that," said Diana. "No; I think that is true of some people; not everybody. All the Pleasant Valley people seem to me to belong to one language. All except one, perhaps."
"Who is the exception?" Mr. Knowlton asked quickly.
"I don't know whether you know him."
"O, I know everybody here—or I used to."
"I was thinking of somebody who didn't use to be here. He has only just come. I mean Mr. Masters."
"The parson?"