ever Anne’s eyes might be holden. Diana came to Green Gables the next evening, a pensive, shy young lady, and told Anne the whole story in the dusky seclusion of the east gable. Both girls cried and kissed and laughed.
“I’m so happy,” said Diana, “but it does seem ridiculous to think of me being engaged.”
“What is it really like to be engaged?” asked Anne curiously.
“Well, that all depends on who you’re engaged to,” answered Diana, with that maddening air of superior wisdom always assumed by those who are engaged over those who are not. “It’s perfectly lovely to be engaged to Fred . . . but I think it would be simply horrid to be engaged to anyone else.”
“There’s not much comfort for the rest of us in that, seeing that there is only one Fred,” laughed Anne.
“Oh, Anne, you don’t understand,” said Diana in vexation. “I didn’t mean that . . . it’s so hard to explain. Never mind, you’ll understand sometime, when your own turn comes.”
“Bless you, dearest of Dianas, I understand now. What is an imagination for if not to enable you to peep at life through other people’s eyes?”
“You must be my bridesmaid, you know, Anne. Promise me that . . . wherever you may be when I’m married.”
“I’ll come from the ends of the earth if necessary,” promised Anne solemnly.
