"He said, 'It is--is it--Ken Ford?'
"I nodded. It seemed dreadful to have to tell it--it was such a sacred
little secret just between me and Ken.
"When Fred went away I came up here to my room and cried so long and so
bitterly that mother came up and insisted on knowing what was the
matter. I told her. She listened to my tale with an expression that
clearly said, 'Can it be possible that anyone has been wanting to marry
this baby?' But she was so nice and understanding and sympathetic, oh,
just so race-of-Josephy--that I felt indescribably comforted. Mothers
are the dearest things.
"'But oh, mother,' I sobbed, 'he wanted me to kiss him good-bye--and I
couldn't--and that hurt me worse than all the rest.'
"'Well, why didn't you kiss him?' asked mother coolly. 'Considering the
circumstances, I think you might have.'
"'But I couldn't, mother--I promised Ken when he went away that I
wouldn't kiss anybody else until he came back.'
"This was another high explosive for poor mother. She exclaimed, with
the queerest little catch in her voice, 'Rilla, are you engaged to
Kenneth Ford?'
"'I--don't--know,' I sobbed.
"'You--don't--know?' repeated mother.
"Then I had to tell her the whole story, too; and every time I tell it
it seems sillier and sillier to imagine that Ken meant anything serious.
I felt idiotic and ashamed by the time I got through.
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