"I can see that you think its your duty, young, woman—that's the main thing. I think you're wrong. But what you believe to be right you have to do. That's the way we learn my dear, that's the way we learn! Well—you've been a good child ever since I've known you. A remarkably good child. If you have to sow this kind of wild oats—" they both smiled at this, "I guess we can't stop you. I'll keep your secret—"
"Its not a secret really," the girl explained, "I'll tell them as soon as I'm settled. Then they can tell—if they want to." And they both smiled again.
"Well—I won't tell till I hear of it then. And—yes, I guess I can furnish that document with a clean conscience."
She gave him paper and pen and he wrote, with a grin, handing her the result.
She read it, a girlish giggle lightening the atmosphere. "Thank you!" she said earnestly. "Thank you ever so much. I knew you would help me."
"If you get stuck anywhere just let me know," he said rising. "This
Proddy Gal may want a return ticket yet!"
"I'll walk first!" said Diantha.
"O Dr. Major," cried her mother from the window, "Don't go! We want you to stay to supper of course!"
But he had other calls to make, he said, and went away, his big hands clasped behind him; his head bent, smiling one minute and shaking his head the next.
Diantha leaned against a pearly eucalyptus trunk and watched him. She would miss Dr. Major. But who was this approaching? Her heart sank miserably. Mrs. Warden—and all the girls.