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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.
