?
You can't carry on with a man like that as you can with one of your own
friends. He is not to be trusted. One nice girl I had here simply left
the place--he annoyed her so."

Ilda was a little sulky. She had been quite a queen in the small
Norwegian village she was born in. Young men were young men--and
they might even--perhaps! This severe young housekeeper didn't know
everything. Maybe she was jealous!

So Ilda was rather unconvinced, though apparently submissive, and
Diantha kept a careful eye upon her. She saw to it that Ilda's room had
a bolt as well as key in the door, and kept the room next to it empty;
frequently using it herself, unknown to anyone. "I hate to turn the
child off," she said to herself, conscientiously revolving the matter.
"She isn't doing a thing more than most girls do--she's only a little
fool. And he's not doing anything I can complain of--yet."

But she worried over it a good deal, and Mrs. Weatherstone noticed it.

"Doesn't your pet club house go well, 'Miss Bell?' You seem troubled
about something."

"I am," Diantha admitted. "I believe I'll have to tell you about it--but
I hate to. Perhaps if you'll come and look I shan't have to say much."

She led her to a window that looked on the garden, the rich, vivid,
flower-crowded garden of Southern California by the sea. Little Ilda,
in a fresh black frock and snowy, frilly cap and apron, ran out to get a
rose; and while she sniffed and dallied they saw Mr. Mathew saunter out
and join her.

The girl was not as severe with him as she ought to have been--that was
evident; but it was also evident that she was frightened and furious
when he suddenly held her fast and kissed her with much satisfaction. As
soon as her arms were free she gave him a slap that sounded smartly even
at that distance; and ran crying into the house.

"She's foolish, I admit," said Diantha,--"but she doesn't realize her
danger at all. I've tried to make her. And now I'm more worried than
ever. It seems rather hard to discharge her--she needs care."

"I'll speak to that young man myself," said Mrs. Weatherstone. "I'll
speak to his grandmother too!"

"O--would you?" urged Diantha. "She wouldn't believe anything except
that the girl 'led him on'--you know that. But I have an idea that
we could convince her--if you're willing to do something rather
melodramatic--and I think we'd better do it to-night!"

"What's that?" asked her employer; and Diantha explained. It w