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XXIX. Poetry and Prose

           “AndI’mafraidthatthiscan’thelpmakingsomedifferencebetweenDianaandme.I’msureIcan’ttellherallmysecretsafterthis...shemighttellFred.AndwhatCANsheseeinFred?He’sveryniceandjolly...buthe’sjustFredWright.”

           Itisalwaysaverypuzzlingquestion...whatcansomebodyseeinsomebodyelse?Buthowfortunateafterallthatitisso,forifeverybodysawalike...well,inthatcase,astheoldIndiansaid,“Everybodywouldwantmysquaw.”ItwasplainthatDianaDIDseesomethinginFredWright,howeverAnne’seyesmightbeholden.DianacametoGreenGablesthenextevening,apensive,shyyounglady,andtoldAnnethewholestoryintheduskyseclusionoftheeastgable.Bothgirlscriedandkissedandlaughed.

           “I’msohappy,”saidDiana,“butitdoesseemridiculoustothinkofmebeingengaged.”

           “Whatisitreallyliketobeengaged?”askedAnnecuriously.

           “Well,thatalldependsonwhoyou’reengagedto,”answeredDiana,withthatmaddeningairofsuperiorwisdomalwaysassumedbythosewhoareengagedoverthosewhoarenot.“It’sperfectlylovelytobeengagedtoFred...butIthinkitwouldbesimplyhorridtobeengagedtoanyoneelse.”

           “There’snotmuchcomfortfortherestofusinthat,seeingthatthereisonlyoneFred,”laughedAnne.

           “Oh,Anne,youdon’tunderstand,”saidDianainvexation.“Ididn’tmeanTHAT...it’ssohardtoexplain.Nevermind,you’llunderstandsometime,whenyourownturncomes.”

           “Blessyou,dearestofDianas,Iunderstandnow.

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