because I had promised somebody else I wouldn't.
“He said, ‘Is it—s 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 any one 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 nd 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.
