The two girls avoided John all the next day, for with feminine instinct
they divined their case would come up for grave consideration, and
neither cared to be questioned or chastised.
When this startling incident came to the ears of Aunt Clara Tyler, she
buckled on her aggressive armor of righteousness, but like the tactful
soul she was, she drew over her steel coat the soft velvet robe of
tender sympathy and bided her time.
Two nights after Dian's encounter, the girls were out at a neighboring
party. Returning somewhat late, Aunt Clara's watchful ears heard
them call out their merry good-nights to their companions, and the
psychological moment was upon them.
The girls found her busy at their own wagon-box bedroom, and they were
glad for a pair of sympathetic ears in which to pour out the story of
"what he said" and "she said" with the evening's trivial happenings,
all of such moment to young, fresh hearts.
"How good it is to get a word with you, Auntie," cooed Ellen, "you are
off so much with the sick that I don't get a chance to hug you once a
week."
Joining in their merry chatter, the two girls sitting cross-legged on
their narrow bed, their mentor sat on the stool at the front end of the
box, and gently led them into deep conversational waters.
"These brilliant men of the world do know how to say pretty things,
don't they?" said Ellen, after Dian had related the river incident, in
her own candid fashion.
"And he never said a rude word or did an offensive thing," finished
Dian.
"Good manners, my dear, are only the real or the assumed expression of
a truly unselfish soul. Tact is like charity--it sometimes covers a
multitude of sins."
Ellen sat silent while this talk went on; Aunt Clara noted it and drew
her own shrewd conclusions.
"Well, why must this sweet and gentle courtesy belong only to men who
are not good, Aunt Clara?" continued Dian.
"It mustn't, and yet it too often does. Pioneer life in every country
leaves very little time for young men especially to cultivate the
amenities of life. Aren't our leaders courteous, and can you find
lovelier ladies than Sister Eliza R. Snow and Zina D. Young? Our girls
are as crude in much of their behavior as are our boys. First the
marble must be hewn out, then comes the polish."
"I love the polish," murmured Ellen. And Dian added frankly:
"So do I! The rocks in the hillside are ugly!"
"Not ugly--their rough beauty appeals to an educated mind. And polish
is so deceptive. You could enamel any cheap and poor surface, but heat
or power would crush the false substance into powder. Ah no, my dear
motherless girls, it is my duty to warn you! I see what your youthful
eyes could not perceive. The allurements of bad men and corrupt
worldliness, have ever been and ever will be present with us in this
world. 'Take away the devil's fascination, and you would cut off his
right arm at the shoulder,' is an old proverb. The only safety for
youth and inexperience is to take the counsel of their parents and
guardians. I am a widow, and earn my living by nursing the sick. So I
am obliged to leave you girls to watch yourselves much of the time."
"But taking counsel always means to do the thing you don't want to do,"
pouted Dian, "and to leave undone the things you would like to do."
"That pretty nearly sums up life's best discipline. And now let me
warn you, my dear, precious girls, let that soldier alone, and every
other man whose life and character is unknown to your guardians; have
fun, enjoy yourselves, but don't go outside your own safe circle for
pleasure or for peace."
"Oh, pshaw!" grumbled Diantha. But Aunt Clara knew that the temporary
resistance of Diantha's frank nature would yield in time, and that
above all, she could never quite bring herself to disobey any given
counsel. That was the rock upon which the girl's character was builded.
As for Ellen:
"Ellie," said her aunt, solemnly, "let me warn you and forewarn you
against any evil temptation such as has just assailed Diantha. I'm sure
I don't know how you would come out from such a test, my dear, for you
do love admiration so well."
"Of course Diantha's the perfect one," replied Ellen, sharply; "I am
never quite safe or quite right," but she was very glad Dian had kept
her secret. For there was surely no need of Aunt Clara knowing all that!
Alack! The loyalty of youth to youth sometimes works them grave
disaster. If Diantha had only been a little less loyal, Aunt Clara
would have been set upon the watch tower; for she, with her riper
years, knew the weakness as well as the charm of her pretty niece as
inexperienced Dian could not then know. But both girls had now been
rightly taught and cautioned, and so the elder woman kissed them
good-night and left them to the deep slumber of youth and health.