The Young Diana: An Experiment of the Future

Diana was “old enough,” as her recalcitrant lover had informed her, to value the blessing of a good night’s rest. She had a clear conscience,—she was, indeed, that rara avis, in these days, a perfectly innocent-minded woman, and she slept as calmly and peacefully as a child. When she woke to the light of a radiant morning, with the sunshine making diamonds of the sea, she felt almost young again as she tripped to and fro, putting the final touches of taste to the pretty drawing-room, and giving to every nook and corner that indefinable air of pleasant occupation which can only be bestowed by the hand of a dainty, beauty-loving woman. At the appointed hour, the automobile was sent to the station to meet Mr. and Mrs. James Polydore May, and punctual to time the worthy couple arrived, both husband and wife slightly out of humour with the heat of the fine summer’s day and the fatigue of the journey from London.

“Well, Diana!” sighed her mother, turning a fat, buff-coloured cheek to be kissed, “is the house really decent and comfortable?”

“It’s lovely!” declared Diana, cheerfully—“I’m sure you’ll be happy here, Mother! The garden is perfectly delightful!”