. I did not want the poor fellow
to stick to me, but when I come to think of it that is the trouble.
How short-sighted I am! It is his perverted fickleness rather than his
actual fickleness which worries me. He has proposed to Peggy when he was
in love with another woman, probably because he was in love with
another woman. Now Peggy, although she is not brilliant, in spite of her
co-education (perhaps because of it), is a darling, and she deserves
a good husband. She loves this man with her whole heart, poor little
thing! that is easy enough to be seen, and he does not care for her, at
least not when I am around or when I am in his mind. The question is,
is this marriage going to make the child happy? My first impulse, when
I saw Harry Goward and knew that he was poor Peggy's lover, was
immediately to pack up and leave. Then I really wondered if that was
the wisest thing to do. I wanted to see for myself if Harry Goward were
really in earnest about poor little Peggy and had gotten over his mad
infatuation for her aunt and would make her a good husband. Perhaps
I ought to leave, and yet I wonder if I ought. Harry Goward may have
turned pale simply from his memory of what an uncommon fool he had been,
and the consideration of the embarrassing position in which his past
folly has placed him, if I chose to make revelations. He might have
known that I would not; still, men know so little of women. I think that
possibly I am worrying myself needlessly, and that he is really in love
with Peggy. She is quite a little beauty, and she does know how to put
her clothes on so charmingly. The adjustments of her shirt-waists are
simply perfection. I may be very foolish to go away; I may be even
insufferably conceited in assuming that Harry's change of color
signified anything which could make it necessary. But, after all, he
must be fickle and ready to turn from one to another, or deceitful, and
I must admit that if Peggy were my daughter, and Harry had never been
mad about me six weeks ago, but about some other woman, I should still
feel the same way.

Sometimes I wonder if I ought to tell Ada. She is the girl's mother. I
might shift the responsibility on to her. I almost think I will. She is
alone in her room now, I know. Peggy and Harry have gone for a drive,
and the rest have scattered. It is a good chance. I really don't feel as
if I ought to bear the whole responsibility alone. I will go this minute
and tell Ada.

Well, I ha