WHAT DIANTHA DID

By Charlotte Perkins Gilman

CHAPTER I. HANDICAPPED

 One may use the Old Man of the Sea, For a partner or patron, But helpless and hapless is he Who is ridden, inextricably, By a fond old mer-matron. 

The Warden house was more impressive in appearance than its neighbors. It had "grounds, " instead of a yard or garden; it had wide pillaredporches and "galleries, " showing southern antecedents; moreover, ithad a cupola, giving date to the building, and proof of the continuingambitions of the builders. 

The stately mansion was covered with heavy flowering vines, also withheavy mortgages. Mrs. Roscoe Warden and her four daughters reposedpeacefully under the vines, while Roscoe Warden, Jr. , struggleddesperately under the mortgages. 

A slender, languid lady was Mrs. Warden, wearing her thin but stillbrown hair in "water-waves" over a pale high forehead. She was sittingon a couch on the broad, rose-shaded porch, surrounded by billowingmasses of vari-colored worsted. It was her delight to purchase skein onskein of soft, bright-hued wool, cut it all up into short lengths, tiethem together again in contrasting colors, and then crochet this hashedrainbow into afghans of startling aspect. California does not call forafghans to any great extent, but "they make such acceptable presents, "Mrs. Warden declared, to those who questioned the purpose of her work;and she continued to send them off, on Christmases, birthdays, and minorweddings, in a stream of pillowy bundles. As they were accepted, theymust have been acceptable, and the stream flowed on. 

Around her, among the gay blossoms and gayer wools, sat her fourdaughters, variously intent. The mother, a poetic soul, had named themmusically and with dulcet rhymes: Madeline and Adeline were the twoeldest, Coraline and Doraline the two youngest. It had not occurred toher until too late that those melodious terminations made it impossibleto call one daughter without calling two, and that "Lina" called themall. 

"Mis' Immerjin, " said a soft voice in the doorway, "dere pos'tivelyain't no butter in de house fer supper. "

"No butter?" said Mrs. Warden, incredulously. "Why, Sukey, I'm sure wehad a tub sent up last--last Tuesday!"

"A week ago Tuesday, more likely, mother, " suggested Dora. 

"Nonsense, Dora! It was this week, wasn't it, girls?" The motherappealed to them quite earnestly, as if the date of that tub's deliverywould furnish forth the supper-table; but none of the young ladies saveDora had even a contradiction to offer. 

"You know I never notice things, " said the artistic Cora; and "thede-lines, " as their younger sisters called them, said nothing. 

"I might borrow some o' Mis' Bell?" suggested Sukey; "dat's nearer 'n'de sto'. "

"Yes, do, Sukey, " her mistress agreed. "It is so hot. But what have youdone with that tubful?"

"Why, some I tuk back to Mis' Bell for what I borrered befo'--I'm alwaysmost careful to make return for what I borrers--and yo' know, Mis'Warden, dat waffles and sweet potaters and cohn bread dey do takebutter; to say nothin' o' them little cakes you all likes so well--_an'_de fried chicken, _an'_--"

"Never mind, Sukey; you go and present my compliments to Mrs. Bell, andask her for some; and be sure you return it promptly. Now, girls, don'tlet me forget to tell Ross to send up another tub. "

"We can't seem to remember any better than you can, mother, " saidAdeline, dreamily. "Those details are so utterly uninteresting. "

"I should think it was Sukey's business to tell him, " said Madeline withdecision; while the "a-lines" kept silence this time. 

"There! Sukey's gone!" Mrs. Warden suddenly remarked, watching the stoutfigure moving heavily away under the pepper trees. "And I meant to haveasked her to make me a glass of shrub! Dora, dear, you run and get itfor mother. "

Dora laid down her work, not too regretfully, and started off. 

"That child is the most practical of any of you, " said her mother; whichstatement was tacitly accepted. It was not extravagant praise. 

Dora poked about in the refrigerator for a bit of ice. She ho no idea ofthe high cost of ice in that region--it came from "the store, " like alltheir provisions. It did not occur to her that fish and milk and melonsmade a poor combination in flavor; or that the clammy, sub-offensivesmell was not the natural and necessary odor of refrigerators. Neitherdid she think that a sunny corner of the back porch near the chimney, though convenient, was an ill-selected spot for a refrigerator. Shecouldn't find the ice-pick, so put a big piece of ice in a towel andbroke it on the edge of the sink; replaced the largest fragment, usedwhat she wanted, and left the rest to filter slowly down through a massof grease and tea-leaves; found the raspberry vinegar, and made a verysatisfactory beverage which her mother received with grateful affection. 

"Thank you, my darling, " she said. "I wish you'd made a pitcherful. "

"Why didn't you, Do?" her sisters demanded. 

"You're too late, " said Dora, hunting for her needle and then for herthimble, and then for her twist; "but there's more in the kitchen. "

"I'd rather go without than go into the kitchen, " said Adeline; "I dodespise a kitchen. " And this seemed to be the general sentiment; for noone moved. 

"My mother always liked raspberry shrub, " said Mrs. Warden; "and yourAunt Leicester, and your Raymond cousins. "

Mrs. Warden had a wide family circle, many beloved relatives, "connections" of whom she was duly proud and "kin" in such wideningramifications that even her carefully reared daughters lost track ofthem. 

"You young people don't seem to care about your cousins at all!" pursuedtheir mother, somewhat severely, setting her glass on the railing, fromwhence it was presently knocked off and broken. 

"That's the fifth!" remarked Dora, under breath. 

"Why should we, Ma?" inquired Cora. "We've never seen one ofthem--except Madam Weatherstone!"

"We'll never forget _her!"_ said Madeline, with delicate decision, laying down the silk necktie she was knitting for Roscoe. "What_beautiful_ manners she had!"

"How rich is she, mother? Do you know?" asked Dora. 

"Rich enough to do something for Roscoe, I'm sure, if she had a properfamily spirit, " replied Mrs. Warden. "Her mother was own cousin to mygrandmother--one of the Virginia Paddingtons. Or she might do somethingfor you girls. "

"I wish she would!" Adeline murmured, softly, her large eyes turned tothe horizon, her hands in her lap over the handkerchief she was markingfor Roscoe. 

"Don't be ungrateful, Adeline, " said her mother, firmly. "You have agood home and a good brother; no girl ever had a better. "

"But there is never anything going on, " broke in Coraline, in a tone ofcomplaint; "no parties, no going away for vacations, no anything. "

"Now, Cora, don't be discontented! You must not add a straw to dearRoscoe's burdens, " said her mother. 

"Of course not, mother; I wouldn't for the world. I never saw her butthat once; and she wasn't very cordial. But, as you say, she might do_something. _ She might invite us to visit her. "

"If she ever comes back again, I'm going to recite for her, " said, Dora, firmly. 

Her mother gazed fondly on her youngest. "I wish you could, dear, "she agreed. "I'm sure you have talent; and Madam Weatherstone wouldrecognize it. And Adeline's music too. And Cora's art. I am very proudof my girls. "

Cora sat where the light fell well upon her work. She was illuminatinga volume of poems, painting flowers on the margins, in appropriateplaces--for Roscoe. 

"I wonder if he'll care for it?" she said, laying down her brush andholding the book at arm's length to get the effect. 

"Of course he will!" answered her mother, warmly. "It is not only thebeauty of it, but the affection! How are you getting on, Dora?"

Dora was laboring at a task almost beyond her fourteen years, consistingof a negligee shirt of outing flannel, upon the breast of which she wasembroidering a large, intricate design--for Roscoe. She was an ambitiouschild, but apt to tire in the execution of her large projects. 

"I guess it'll be done, " she said, a little wearily. "What are you goingto give him, mother?"

"Another bath-robe; his old one is so worn. And nothing is too good formy boy. "

"He's coming, " said Adeline, who was still looking down the road; andthey all concealed their birthday work in haste. 

A tall, straight young fellow, with an air of suddenly-faced maturityupon him, opened the gate under the pepper trees and came toward them. 

He had the finely molded features we see in portraits of handsomeancestors, seeming to call for curling hair a little longish, and a richprofusion of ruffled shirt. But his hair was sternly short, his shirtseverely plain, his proudly carried head spoke of effort rather than ofease in its attitude. 

Dora skipped to meet him, Cora descended a decorous step or two. Madeline and Adeline, arm in arm, met him at the piazza edge, his motherlifted her face. 

"Well, mother, dear!" Affectionately he stooped and kissed her, and sheheld his hand and stroked it lovingly. The sisters gathered about withteasing affection, Dora poking in his coat-pocket for the stick candyher father always used to bring her, and her brother still remembered. 

"Aren't you home early, dear?" asked Mrs. Warden. 

"Yes; I had a little headache"--he passed his hand over hisforehead--"and Joe can run the store till after supper, anyhow. " Theyflew to get him camphor, cologne, a menthol-pencil. Dora dragged forththe wicker lounge. He was laid out carefully and fanned and fussed overtill his mother drove them all away. 

"Now, just rest, " she said. "It's an hour to supper time yet!" And shecovered him with her latest completed afghan, gathering up and carryingaway the incomplete one and its tumultuous constituents. 

He was glad of the quiet, the fresh, sweet air, the smell of flowersinstead of the smell of molasses and cheese, soap and sulphur matches. But the headache did not stop, nor the worry that caused it. He lovedhis mother, he loved his sisters, he loved their home, but he did notlove the grocery business which had fallen so unexpectedly upon him athis father's death, nor the load of debt which fell with it. 

That they need never have had so large a "place" to "keep up" did notoccur to him. He had lived there most of his life, and it was home. Thatthe expenses of running the household were three times what they neededto be, he did not know. His father had not questioned their style ofliving, nor did he. That a family of five women might, between them, dothe work of the house, he did not even consider. 

Mrs. Warden's health was never good, and since her husband's death shehad made daily use of many afghans on the many lounges of the house. Madeline was "delicate, " and Adeline was "frail"; Cora was "nervous, "Dora was "only a child. " So black Sukey and her husband Jonah did thework of the place, so far as it was done; and Mrs. Warden held it amiracle of management that she could "do with one servant, " and theheight of womanly devotion on her daughters' part that they dusted theparlor and arranged the flowers. 

Roscoe shut his eyes and tried to rest, but his problem beset himruthlessly. There was the store--their one and only source of income. There was the house, a steady, large expense. There were five women toclothe and keep contented, beside himself. There was the unappeasabledemand of the mortgage--and there was Diantha. 

When Mr. Warden died, some four years previously, Roscoe was a lad ofabout twenty, just home from college, full of dreams of great service tothe world in science, expecting to go back for his doctor's degree nextyear. Instead of which the older man had suddenly dropped beneaththe burden he had carried with such visible happiness and pride, suchunknown anxiety and straining effort; and the younger one had to stepinto the harness on the spot. 

He was brave, capable, wholly loyal to his mother and sisters, rearedin the traditions of older days as to a man's duty toward women. In hisfirst grief for his father, and the ready pride with which he undertookto fill his place, he had not in the least estimated the weight of carehe was to carry, nor the time that he must carry it. A year, a year ortwo, a few years, he told himself, as they passed, and he would makemore money; the girls, of course, would marry; he could "retire" in timeand take up his scientific work again. Then--there was Diantha. 

When he found he loved this young neighbor of theirs, and that she lovedhim, the first flush of happiness made all life look easier. They hadbeen engaged six months--and it was beginning to dawn upon the young manthat it might be six years--or sixteen years--before he could marry. 

He could not sell the business--and if he could, he knew of no betterway to take care of his family. The girls did not marry, and even whenthey did, he had figured this out to a dreary certainty, he would stillnot be free. To pay the mortgages off, and keep up the house, evenwithout his sisters, would require all the money the store would bringin for some six years ahead. The young man set his teeth hard and turnedhis head sharply toward the road. 

And there was Diantha. 

She stood at the gate and smiled at him. He sprang to his feet, headacheless for the moment, and joined her. Mrs. Warden, from thelounge by her bedroom window, saw them move off together, and sighed. 

"Poor Roscoe!" she said to herself. "It is very hard for him. But hecarries his difficulties nobly. He is a son to be proud of. " And shewept a little. 

Diantha slipped her hand in his offered arm--he clasped it warmly withhis, and they walked along together. 

"You won't come in and see mother and the girls?"

"No, thank you; not this time. I must get home and get supper. Besides, I'd rather see just you. "

He felt it a pity that there were so many houses along the road here, but squeezed her hand, anyhow. 

She looked at him keenly. "Headache?" she asked. 

"Yes; it's nothing; it's gone already. "

"Worry?" she asked. 

"Yes, I suppose it is, " he answered. "But I ought not to worry. I'vegot a good home, a good mother, good sisters, and--you!" And he tookadvantage of a high hedge and an empty lot on either side of them. 

Diantha returned his kiss affectionately enough, but seemed preoccupied, and walked in silence till he asked her what she was thinking about. 

"About you, of course, " she answered, brightly. "There are things I wantto say; and yet--I ought not to. "

"You can say anything on earth to me, " he answered. 

"You are twenty-four, " she began, musingly. 

"Admitted at once. "

"And I'm twenty-one and a half. "

"That's no such awful revelation, surely!"

"And we've been engaged ever since my birthday, " the girl pursued. 

"All these are facts, dearest. "

"Now, Ross, will you be perfectly frank with me? May I ask you an--animpertinent question?"

"You may ask me any question you like; it couldn't be impertinent. "

"You'll be scandalised, I know--but--well, here goes. What would youthink if Madeline--or any of the girls--should go away to work?"

He looked at her lovingly, but with a little smile on his firm mouth. 

"I shouldn't allow it, " he said. 

"O--allow it? I asked you what you'd think. "

"I should think it was a disgrace to the family, and a direct reproachto me, " he answered. "But it's no use talking about that. None of thegirls have any such foolish notion. And I wouldn't permit it if theyhad. "

Diantha smiled. "I suppose you never would permit your wife to work?"

"My widow might have to--not my wife. " He held his fine head a triflehigher, and her hand ached for a moment. 

"Wouldn't you let me work--to help you, Ross?"

"My dearest girl, you've got something far harder than that to do forme, and that's wait. "

His face darkened again, and he passed his hand over his forehead. "Sometimes I feel as if I ought not to hold you at all!" he burst out, bitterly. "You ought to be free to marry a better man. "

"There aren't any!" said Diantha, shaking her head slowly from side toside. "And if there were--millions--I wouldn't marry any of 'em. I love_you, "_ she firmly concluded. 

"Then we'll just _wait, "_ said he, setting his teeth on the word, asif he would crush it. "It won't be hard with you to help. You're betterworth it than Rachael and Leah together. " They walked a few stepssilently. 

"But how about science?" she asked him. 

"I don't let myself think of it. I'll take that up later. We're youngenough, both of us, to wait for our happiness. "

"And have you any idea--we might as well face the worst--how many yearsdo you think that will be, dearest?"

He was a little annoyed at her persistence. Also, though he would notadmit the thought, it did not seem quite the thing for her to ask. Awoman should not seek too definite a period of waiting. She ought totrust--to just wait on general principles. 

"I can face a thing better if I know just what I'm facing, " said thegirl, quietly, "and I'd wait for you, if I had to, all my life. Will itbe twenty years, do you think?"

He looked relieved. "Why, no, indeed, darling. It oughtn't to be at theoutside more than five. Or six, " he added, honest though reluctant. 

"You see, father had no time to settle anything; there were outstandingaccounts, and the funeral expenses, and the mortgages. But the businessis good; and I can carry it; I can build it up. " He shook his broadshoulders determinedly. "I should think it might be within five, perhaps even less. Good things happen sometimes--such as you, my heart'sdelight. "

They were at her gate now, and she stood a little while to saygood-night. A step inside there was a seat, walled in by evergreen, roofed over by the wide acacia boughs. Many a long good-night had theyexchanged there, under the large, brilliant California moon. They satthere, silent, now. 

Diantha's heart was full of love for him, and pride and confidence inhim; but it was full of other feelings, too, which he could not fathom. His trouble was clearer to her than to him; as heavy to bear. To hermind, trained in all the minutiae of domestic economy, the Warden familylived in careless wastefulness. That five women--for Dora was older thanshe had been when she began to do housework--should require servants, seemed to this New England-born girl mere laziness and pride. That twovoting women over twenty should prefer being supported by their brotherto supporting themselves, she condemned even more sharply. Moreover, shefelt well assured that with a different family to "support, " Mr. Wardenwould never have broken down so suddenly and irrecoverably. Even thatfuneral--her face hardened as she thought of the conspicuous "lot, " thecontinual flowers, the monument (not wholly paid for yet, that monument, though this she did not know)--all that expenditure to do honor to theman they had worked to death (thus brutally Diantha put it) was probablyenough to put off their happiness for a whole year. 

She rose at last, her hand still held in his. "I'm sorry, but I've gotto get supper, dear, " she said, "and you must go. Good-night for thepresent; you'll be round by and by?"

"Yes, for a little while, after we close up, " said he, and took himselfoff, not too suddenly, walking straight and proud while her eyes were onhim, throwing her a kiss from the corner; but his step lagging and hisheadache settling down upon him again as he neared the large house withthe cupola. 

Diantha watched him out of sight, turned and marched up the path to herown door, her lips set tight, her well-shaped head as straightly heldas his. "It's a shame, a cruel, burning shame!" she told herselfrebelliously. "A man of his ability. Why, he could do anything, in hisown work! And he loved it so!

"To keep a grocery store!!!!!

"And nothing to show for all that splendid effort!"

"They don't do a thing? They just _live_--and 'keep house!' All thosewomen!

"Six years? Likely to be sixty! But I'm not going to wait!"

CHAPTER II. AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER

 The brooding bird fulfills her task, Or she-bear lean and brown; All parent beasts see duty true, All parent beasts their duty do, We are the only kind that asks For duty upside down. 

The stiff-rayed windmill stood like a tall mechanical flower, turningslowly in the light afternoon wind; its faint regular metallic squeakpricked the dry silence wearingly. Rampant fuchsias, red-jewelled, heavy, ran up its framework, with crowding heliotrope and nasturtiums. Thick straggling roses hung over the kitchen windows, and a row of dustyeucalyptus trees rustled their stiff leaves, and gave an ineffectualshade to the house. 

It was one of those small frame houses common to the northeasternstates, which must be dear to the hearts of their dwellers. For noother reason, surely, would the cold grey steep-roofed little boxes berepeated so faithfully in the broad glow of a semi-tropical landscape. There was an attempt at a "lawn, " the pet ambition of the transplantedeasterner; and a further attempt at "flower-beds, " which merely servedas a sort of springboard to their far-reaching products. 

The parlor, behind the closed blinds, was as New England parlors are;minus the hint of cosiness given by even a fireless stove; the littlebedrooms baked under the roof; only the kitchen spoke of human living, and the living it portrayed was not, to say the least, joyous. It wasclean, clean with a cleanness that spoke of conscientious labor andunremitting care. The zinc mat under the big cook-stove was scoured to adull glimmer, while that swart altar itself shone darkly from its dailyrubbing. 

There was no dust nor smell of dust; no grease spots, no litteranywhere. But the place bore no atmosphere of contented pride, as doesa Dutch, German or French kitchen, it spoke of Labor, Economy andDuty--under restriction. 

In the dead quiet of the afternoon Diantha and her mother sat theresewing. The sun poured down through the dangling eucalyptus leaves. Thedry air, rich with flower odors, flowed softly in, pushing the whitesash curtains a steady inch or two. Ee-errr!--Ee-errr!--came the faintwhine of the windmill. 

To the older woman rocking in her small splint chair by the rose-drapedwindow, her thoughts dwelling on long dark green grass, the shade ofelms, and cows knee-deep in river-shallows; this was California--hot, arid, tedious in endless sunlight--a place of exile. 

To the younger, the long seam of the turned sheet pinned tightly to herknee, her needle flying firmly and steadily, and her thoughts full ofpouring moonlight through acacia boughs and Ross's murmured words, itwas California--rich, warm, full of sweet bloom and fruit, of boundlessvitality, promise, and power--home!

Mrs. Bell drew a long weary sigh, and laid down her work for a moment. 

"Why don't you stop it Mother dear? There's surely no hurry about thesethings. "

"No--not particularly, " her mother answered, "but there's plenty else todo. " And she went on with the long neat hemming. Diantha did the "overand over seam" up the middle. 

"What _do_ you do it for anyway, Mother--I always hated this job--andyou don't seem to like it. "

"They wear almost twice as long, child, you know. The middle gets wornand the edges don't. Now they're reversed. As to liking it--" She gavea little smile, a smile that was too tired to be sarcastic, but whichcertainly did not indicate pleasure. 

"What kind of work do you like best--really?" her daughter inquiredsuddenly, after a silent moment or two. 

"Why--I don't know, " said her mother. "I never thought of it. I nevertried any but teaching. I didn't like that. Neither did your AuntEsther, but she's still teaching. "

"Didn't you like any of it?" pursued Diantha. 

"I liked arithmetic best. I always loved arithmetic, when I went toschool--used to stand highest in that. "

"And what part of housework do you like best?" the girl persisted. 

Mrs. Bell smiled again, wanly. "Seems to me sometimes as if I couldn'ttell sometimes what part I like least!" she answered. Then with suddenheat--"O my Child! Don't you marry till Ross can afford at least onegirl for you!"

Diantha put her small, strong hands behind her head and leaned back inher chair. "We'll have to wait some time for that I fancy, " she said. "But, Mother, there is one part you like--keeping accounts! I never sawanything like the way you manage the money, and I believe you've gotevery bill since you were married. "

"Yes--I do love accounts, " Mrs. Bell admitted. "And I can keep run ofthings. I've often thought your Father'd have done better if he'd let merun that end of his business. "

Diantha gave a fierce little laugh. She admired her father in some ways, enjoyed him in some ways, loved him as a child does if not ill-treated;but she loved her mother with a sort of passionate pity mixed withpride; feeling always nobler power in her than had ever had a fairchance to grow. It seemed to her an interminable dull tragedy; thisgraceful, eager, black-eyed woman, spending what to the girl wasliterally a lifetime, in the conscientious performance of duties she didnot love. 

She knew her mother's idea of duty, knew the clear head, the steadywill, the active intelligence holding her relentlessly to the task; thechafe and fret of seeing her husband constantly attempting against herjudgment, and failing for lack of the help he scorned. Young as she was, she realized that the nervous breakdown of these later years was whollydue to that common misery of "the square man in the round hole. "

She folded her finished sheet in accurate lines and laid it away--takingher mother's also. "Now you sit still for once, Mother dear, read or liedown. Don't you stir till supper's ready. "

And from pantry to table she stepped, swiftly and lightly, setting outwhat was needed, greased her pans and set them before her, and proceededto make biscuit. 

Her mother watched her admiringly. "How easy you do it!" she said. "Inever could make bread without getting flour all over me. You don'tspill a speck!"

Diantha smiled. "I ought to do it easily by this time. Father's got tohave hot bread for supper--or thinks he has!--and I've made 'em--everynight when I was at home for this ten years back!"

"I guess you have, " said Mrs. Bell proudly. "You were only eleven whenyou made your first batch. I can remember just as well! I had one of mybad headaches that night--and it did seem as if I couldn't sit up! Butyour Father's got to have his biscuit whether or no. And you said, 'NowMother you lie right still on that sofa and let me do it! I can!' Andyou could!--you did! They were bettern' mine that first time--and yourFather praised 'em--and you've been at it ever since. "

"Yes, " said Diantha, with a deeper note of feeling than her mothercaught, "I've been at it ever since!"

"Except when you were teaching school, " pursued her mother. 

"Except when I taught school at Medville, " Diantha corrected. "When Itaught here I made 'em just the same. "

"So you did, " agreed her mother. "So you did! No matter how tired youwere--you wouldn't admit it. You always were the best child!"

"If I was tired it was not of making biscuits anyhow. I was tired enoughof teaching school though. I've got something to tell you, presently, Mother. "

She covered the biscuits with a light cloth and set them on the shelfover the stove; then poked among the greasewood roots to find whatshe wanted and started a fire. "Why _don't_ you get an oil stove? Or agasoline? It would be a lot easier. "

"Yes, " her mother agreed. "I've wanted one for twenty years; but youknow your Father won't have one in the house. He says they're dangerous. What are you going to tell me, dear? I do hope you and Ross haven'tquarrelled. "

"No indeed we haven't, Mother. Ross is splendid. Only--"

"Only what, Dinah?"

"Only he's so tied up!" said the girl, brushing every chip from thehearth. "He's perfectly helpless there, with that mother of his--andthose four sisters. "

"Ross is a good son, " said Mrs. Bell, "and a good brother. I never saw abetter. He's certainly doing his duty. Now if his father'd lived you twocould have got married by this time maybe, though you're too young yet. "

Diantha washed and put away the dishes she had used, saw that the pantrywas in its usual delicate order, and proceeded to set the table, withlight steps and no clatter of dishes. 

"I'm twenty-one, " she said. 

"Yes, you're twenty-one, " her mother allowed. "It don't seem possible, but you are. My first baby!" she looked at her proudly. 

"If Ross has to wait for all those girls to marry--and to pay hisfather's debts--I'll be old enough, " said Diantha grimly. 

Her mother watched her quick assured movements with admiration, andlistened with keen sympathy. "I know it's hard, dear child. You'veonly been engaged six months--and it looks as if it might be some yearsbefore Ross'll be able to marry. He's got an awful load for a boy tocarry alone. "

"I should say he had!" Diantha burst forth. "Five helpless women!--orthree women, and two girls. Though Cora's as old as I was when I beganto teach. And not one of 'em will lift a finger to earn her own living. "

"They weren't brought up that way, " said Mrs. Bell. "Their mother don'tapprove of it. She thinks the home is the place for a woman--and so doesRoss--and so do I, " she added rather faintly. 

Diantha put her pan of white puff-balls into the oven, sliced a quantityof smoked beef in thin shavings, and made white sauce for it, talkingthe while as if these acts were automatic. "I don't agree with Mrs. Warden on that point, nor with Ross, nor with you, Mother, " she said, "What I've got to tell you is this--I'm going away from home. To work. "

Mrs. Bell stopped rocking, stopped fanning, and regarded her daughterwith wide frightened eyes. 

"Why Diantha!" she said. "Why Diantha! You wouldn't go and leave yourMother!"

Diantha drew a deep breath and stood for a moment looking at the feeblelittle woman in the chair. Then she went to her, knelt down and huggedher close--close. 

"It's not because I don't love you, Mother. It's because I do. And it'snot because I don't love Ross either:--it's because I _do. _ I want totake care of you, Mother, and make life easier for you as long asyou live. I want to help him--to help carry that awful load--and I'mgoing--to--do--it!"

She stood up hastily, for a step sounded on the back porch. It was onlyher sister, who hurried in, put a dish on the table, kissed her motherand took another rocking-chair. 

"I just ran in, " said she, "to bring those berries. Aren't theybeauties? The baby's asleep. Gerald hasn't got in yet. Supper's allready, and I can see him coming time enough to run back. Why, Mother!What's the matter? You're crying!"

"Am I?" asked Mrs. Bell weakly; wiping her eyes in a dazed way. 

"What are you doing to Mother, Diantha?" demanded young Mrs. Peters. "Bless me! I thought you and she never had any differences! I was alwaysthe black sheep, when I was at home. Maybe that's why I left so early!"

She looked very pretty and complacent, this young matron and mother ofnineteen; and patted the older woman's hand affectionately, demanding, "Come--what's the trouble?"

"You might as well know now as later, " said her sister. "I have decidedto leave home, that's all. "

"To leave home!" Mrs. Peters sat up straight and stared at her. "Toleave home!--And Mother!"

"Well?" said Diantha, while the tears rose and ran over from hermother's eyes. "Well, why not? You left home--and Mother--before youwere eighteen. "

"That's different!" said her sister sharply. "I left to be married, --tohave a home of my own. And besides I haven't gone far! I can see Motherevery day. "

"That's one reason I can go now better than later on, " Diantha said. "You are close by in case of any trouble. "

"What on earth are you going for? Ross isn't ready to marry yet, is he?"

"No--nor likely to be for years. That's another reason I'm going. "

"But what _for, _ for goodness sake. "

"To earn money--for one thing. "

"Can't you earn money enough by teaching?" the Mother broke in eagerly. "I know you haven't got the same place this fall--but you can getanother easy enough. "

Diantha shook her head. "No, Mother, I've had enough of that. I'vetaught for four years. I don't like it, I don't do well, and it exhaustsme horribly. And I should never get beyond a thousand or fifteen hundreddollars a year if I taught for a lifetime. "

"Well, I declare!" said her sister. "What do you _expect_ to get? Ishould think fifteen hundred dollars a year was enough for any woman!"

Diantha peered into the oven and turned her biscuit pan around. 

"And you're meaning to leave home just to make money, are you?"

"Why not?" said Diantha firmly. "Henderson did--when he was eighteen. None of you blamed him. "

"I don't see what that's got to do with it, " her mother ventured. "Henderson's a boy, and boys have to go, of course. A mother expectsthat. But a girl--Why, Diantha! How can I get along without you! With myhealth!"

"I should think you'd be ashamed of yourself to think of such a thing!"said young Mrs. Peters. 

A slow step sounded outside, and an elderly man, tall, slouching, carelessly dressed, entered, stumbling a little over the rag-mat at thedoor. 

"Father hasn't got used to that rug in fourteen years!" said hisyoungest daughter laughingly. "And Mother will straighten it out afterhim! I'm bringing Gerald up on better principles. You should just seehim wait on me!"

"A man should be master in his own household, " Mr. Bell proclaimed, raising a dripping face from the basin and looking around for thetowel--which his wife handed him. 

"You won't have much household to be master of presently, " said Mrs. Peters provokingly. "Half of it's going to leave. "

Mr. Bell came out of his towel and looked from one to the other for someexplanation of this attempted joke, "What nonsense are you talking?" hedemanded. 

"I think it's nonsense myself, " said the pretty young woman--her hand onthe doorknob. "But you'd better enjoy those biscuits of Di's while youcan--you won't get many more! There's Gerald--good night!" And off sheran. 

Diantha set the plateful on the table, puffy, brown, and crisplycrusted. "Supper's ready, " she said. "Do sit down, Mother, " and she heldthe chair for her. "Minnie's quite right, Father, though I meant not totell you till you'd had supper. I am going away to work. "

Mr. Bell regarded his daughter with a stern, slow stare; not so muchsurprised as annoyed by an untimely jesting. He ate a hot biscuit in twoun-Fletcherized mouthfuls, and put more sugar in his large cup of tea. "You've got your Mother all worked up with your nonsense, " said he. "What are you talking about anyway?"

Diantha met his eyes unflinchingly. He was a tall old man, stillhandsome and impressive in appearance, had been the head of his ownhousehold beyond question, ever since he was left the only son ofan idolizing mother. But he had never succeeded in being the headof anything else. Repeated failures in the old New England home hadresulted in his ruthlessly selling all the property there; and bringinghis delicate wife and three young children to California. Vain were herprotests and objections. It would do her good--best place in the worldfor children--good for nervous complaints too. A wife's duty was tofollow her husband, of course. She had followed, willy nilly; and it wasgood for the children--there was no doubt of that. 

Mr. Bell had profited little by his venture. They had the ranch, theflowers and fruit and ample living of that rich soil; but he had failedin oranges, failed in raisins, failed in prunes, and was now failing inwealth-promising hens. 

But Mrs. Bell, though an ineffectual housekeeper, did not fail inthe children. They had grown up big and vigorous, sturdy, handsomecreatures, especially the two younger ones. Diantha was good-lookingenough. Roscoe Warden thought her divinely beautiful. But her youngstrength had been heavily taxed from childhood in that complex processknown as "helping mother. " As a little child she had been of constantservice in caring for the babies; and early developed such competence inthe various arts of house work as filled her mother with fond pride, andeven wrung from her father some grudging recognition. That he did notvalue it more was because he expected such competence in women, allwomen; it was their natural field of ability, their duty as wives andmothers. Also as daughters. If they failed in it that was by illness orperversity. If they succeeded--that was a matter of course. 

He ate another of Diantha's excellent biscuits, his greyish-red whiskersslowly wagging; and continued to eye her disapprovingly. She saidnothing, but tried to eat; and tried still harder to make her heart goquietly, her cheeks keep cool, and her eyes dry. Mrs. Bell also stroveto keep a cheerful countenance; urged food upon her family; even triedto open some topic of conversation; but her gentle words trailed offinto unnoticed silence. 

Mr. Bell ate until he was satisfied and betook himself to a comfortablechair by the lamp, where he unfolded the smart local paper and lithis pipe. "When you've got through with the dishes, Diantha, " he saidcoldly, "I'll hear about this proposition of yours. "

Diantha cleared the table, lowered the leaves, set it back againstthe wall, spreading the turkey-red cloth upon it. She washed thedishes, --her kettle long since boiling, scalded them, wiped them, setthem in their places; washed out the towels, wiped the pan and hung itup, swiftly, accurately, and with a quietness that would have seemedincredible to any mistress of heavy-footed servants. Then withheightened color and firm-set mouth, she took her place by the lamplittable and sat still. 

Her mother was patiently darning large socks with many holes--a kindof work she specially disliked. "You'll have to get some new socks, Father, " she ventured, "these are pretty well gone. "

"O they'll do a good while yet, " he replied, not looking at them. "Ilike your embroidery, my dear. "

That pleased her. She did not like to embroider, but she did like to bepraised. 

Diantha took some socks and set to work, red-checked and excited, butsilent yet. Her mother's needle trembled irregularly under and over, anda tear or two slid down her cheeks. 

Finally Mr. Bell laid down his finished paper and his emptied pipe andsaid, "Now then. Out with it. "

This was not a felicitious opening. It is really astonishing how littlediplomacy parents exhibit, how difficult they make it for the young tointroduce a proposition. There was nothing for it but a bald statement, so Diantha made it baldly. 

"I have decided to leave home and go to work, " she said. 

"Don't you have work enough to do at home?" he inquired, with the sameair of quizzical superiority which had always annoyed her so intensely, even as a little child. 

She would cut short this form of discussion: "I am going away to earnmy living. I have given up school-teaching--I don't like it, and, thereisn't money enough in it. I have plans--which will speak for themselveslater. "

"So, " said Mr. Bell, "Plans all made, eh? I suppose you've consideredyour Mother in these plans?"

"I have, " said his daughter. "It is largely on her account that I'mgoing. "

"You think it'll be good for your Mother's health to lose yourassistance, do you?"

"I know she'll miss me; but I haven't left the work on her shoulders. Iam going to pay for a girl--to do the work I've done. It won't cost youany more, Father; and you'll save some--for she'll do the washing too. You didn't object to Henderson's going--at eighteen. You didn't objectto Minnie's going--at seventeen. Why should you object to my going--attwenty-one. "

"I haven't objected--so far, " replied her father. "Have your plans alsoallowed for the affection and duty you owe your parents?"

"I have done my duty--as well as I know how, " she answered. "Now I amtwenty-one, and self-supporting--and have a right to go. "

"O yes. You have a right--a legal right--if that's what you base youridea of a child's duty on! And while you're talking of rights--how abouta parent's rights? How about common gratitude! How about what you oweto me--for all the care and pains and cost it's been to bring you up. Achild's a rather expensive investment these days. "

Diantha flushed, she had expected this, and yet it struck her like ablow. It was not the first time she had heard it--this claim of filialobligation. 

"I have considered that position, Father. I know you feel thatway--you've often made me feel it. So I've been at some pains to work itout--on a money basis. Here is an account--as full as I could make it. "She handed him a paper covered with neat figures. The totals read asfollows:

 Miss Diantha Bell, To Mr. Henderson R. Bell, Dr. 

 To medical and dental expenses. .. $110. 00 To school expenses. .. $76. 00 To clothing, in full. .. $1, 130. 00 To board and lodging at $3. 00 a week. .. $2, 184. 00 To incidentals. .. $100. 00 -------- $3. 600. 00

He studied the various items carefully, stroking his beard, half inanger, half in unavoidable amusement. Perhaps there was a tender feelingtoo, as he remembered that doctor's bill--the first he ever paid, withthe other, when she had scarlet fever; and saw the exact price of thehigh chair which had served all three of the children, but of which shemagnanimously shouldered the whole expense. 

The clothing total was so large that it made him whistle--he knew he hadnever spent $1, 130. 00 on one girl's clothes. But the items explained it. 

 Materials, three years at an average of $10 a year. .. $30. 00 Five years averaging $20 each year. .. $100. 00 Five years averaging $30 each year. .. $50. 00 Five years averaging $50 each year. .. $250. 00 ------- $530. 00

The rest was "Mother's labor", averaging twenty full days a year at $2a day, $40 a year. For fifteen years, $600. 00. Mother's labor--on onechild's, clothes--footing up to $600. 00. It looked strange to see cashvalue attached to that unfailing source of family comfort and advantage. 

The school expenses puzzled him a bit, for she had only gone to publicschools; but she was counting books and slates and even pencils--itbrought up evenings long passed by, the sewing wife, the studyingchildren, the "Say, Father, I've got to have a new slate--mine's broke!"

"Broken, Dina, " her Mother would gently correct, while he demanded, "How did you break it?" and scolded her for her careless tomboy ways. Slates--three, $1. 50--they were all down. And slates didn't cost so muchcome to think of it, even the red-edged ones, wound with black, that shealways wanted. 

Board and lodging was put low, at $3. 00 per week, but the items had afootnote as to house-rent in the country, and food raised on the farm. Yes, he guessed that was a full rate for the plain food and bare littlebedroom they always had. 

"It's what Aunt Esther paid the winter she was here, " said Diantha. 

 Circuses--three. .. $1. 50 Share in melodeon. .. $50. 00

Yes, she was one of five to use and enjoy it. 

 Music lessons. .. $30. 00

And quite a large margin left here, called miscellaneous, which hesmiled to observe made just an even figure, and suspected she had put infor that purpose as well as from generosity. 

"This board account looks kind of funny, " he said--"only fourteen yearsof it!"

"I didn't take table-board--nor a room--the first year--nor muchthe second. I've allowed $1. 00 a week for that, and $2. 00 for thethird--that takes out two, you see. Then it's $156 a year till I wasfourteen and earned board and wages, two more years at $156--and I'vepaid since I was seventeen, you know. "

"Well--I guess you did--I guess you did. " He grinned genially. "Yes, "he continued slowly, "I guess that's a fair enough account. 'Cordingto this, you owe me $3, 600. 00, young woman! I didn't think it cost thatmuch to raise a girl. "

"I know it, " said she. "But here's the other side. "

It was the other side. He had never once thought of such a side to thecase. This account was as clear and honest as the first and full ofexasperating detail. She laid before him the second sheet of figures andwatched while he read, explaining hurriedly:

"It was a clear expense for ten years--not counting help with thebabies. Then I began to do housework regularly--when I was ten oreleven, two hours a day; three when I was twelve and thirteen--real workyou'd have had to pay for, and I've only put it at ten cents an hour. When Mother was sick the year I was fourteen, and I did it all but thewashing--all a servant would have done for $3. 00 a week. Ever since thenI have done three hours a day outside of school, full grown work now, attwenty cents an hour. That's what we have to pay here, you know. "

Thus it mounted up:

 Mr. Henderson R. Bell, To Miss Diantha Bell, Dr. 

 For labor and services!!!!!

 Two years, two hours a day at 10c. An hour. .. $146. 00 Two years, three hours a day at 10c. An hour. .. $219. 00 One year, full wages at $5. 00 a week. .. $260. 00 Six years and a half, three hours a day at 20c. .. $1423. 50 -------- $2048. 50

Mr. Bell meditated carefully on these figures. To think of that child'slabor footing up to two thousand dollars and over! It was lucky a manhad a wife and daughters to do this work, or he could never support afamily. 

Then came her school-teaching years. She had always been a fine scholarand he had felt very proud of his girl when she got a good schoolposition in her eighteenth year. 

California salaries were higher than eastern ones, and times hadchanged too; the year he taught school he remembered the salary was only$300. 00--and he was a man. This girl got $600, next year $700, $800, $900; why it made $3, 000 she had earned in four years. Astonishing. Outof this she had a balance in the bank of $550. 00. He was pleased to seethat she had been so saving. And her clothing account--little enough headmitted for four years and six months, $300. 00. All incidentals forthe whole time, $50. 00--this with her balance made just $900. That left$2, 100. 00. 

"Twenty-one hundred dollars unaccounted for, young lady!--besides thisnest egg in the bank--I'd no idea you were so wealthy. What have youdone with all that?"

"Given it to you, Father, " said she quietly, and handed him the thirdsheet of figures. 

Board and lodging at $4. 00 a week for 4 1/2 years made $936. 00, that hecould realize; but "cash advance" $1, 164 more--he could not believe it. That time her mother was so sick and Diantha had paid both the doctorand the nurse--yes--he had been much cramped that year--and nurses comehigh. For Henderson, Jr. 's, expenses to San Francisco, and again forHenderson when he was out of a job--Mr. Bell remembered the boy'swriting for the money, and his not having it, and Mrs. Bell saying shecould arrange with Diantha. 

Arrange! And that girl had kept this niggardly account of it! ForMinnie's trip to the Yosemite--and what was this?--for his raisinexperiment--for the new horse they simply had to have for the dryingapparatus that year he lost so much money in apricots--and for thespraying materials--yes, he could not deny the items, and they coveredthat $1, 164. 00 exactly. 

Then came the deadly balance, of the account between them:

 Her labor. .. $2, 047. 00 Her board. .. $936. 00 Her "cash advanced". .. $1, 164. 00 --------- $4, 147. 00 His expense for her. .. $3, 600 --------- Due her from him. .. $547. 00

Diantha revolved her pencil between firm palms, and looked at himrather quizzically; while her mother rocked and darned and wiped away anoccasional tear. She almost wished she had not kept accounts so well. 

Mr. Bell pushed the papers away and started to his feet. 

"This is the most shameful piece of calculation I ever saw in my life, "said he. "I never heard of such a thing! You go and count up in colddollars the work that every decent girl does for her family and is gladto! I wonder you haven't charged your mother for nursing her?"

"You notice I haven't, " said Diantha coldly. 

"And to think, " said he, gripping the back of a chair and looking downat her fiercely, "to think that a girl who can earn nine hundred dollarsa year teaching school, and stay at home and do her duty by her familybesides, should plan to desert her mother outright--now she's old andsick! Of course I can't stop you! You're of age, and children nowadayshave no sense of natural obligation after they're grown up. You cango, of course, and disgrace the family as you propose--but you needn'texpect to have me consent to it or approve of it--or of you. It's ashameful thing--and you are an unnatural daughter--that's all I've gotto say!"

Mr. Bell took his hat and went out--a conclusive form of punctuationmuch used by men in discussions of this sort. 

CHAPTER III. BREAKERS

 Duck! Dive! Here comes another one! Wait till the crest-ruffles show! Beyond is smooth water in beauty and wonder-- Shut your mouth! Hold your breath! Dip your head under! Dive through the weight and the wash, and the thunder-- Look out for the undertow!

If Diantha imagined that her arithmetical victory over a too-sordidpresentation of the parental claim was a final one, she soon foundherself mistaken. 

It is easy to say--putting an epic in an epigram--"She seen her duty andshe done it!" but the space and time covered are generally as far beyondour plans as the estimates of an amateur mountain climber exceed hisachievements. 

Her determination was not concealed by her outraged family. Possiblythey thought that if the matter was well aired, and generally discussed, the daring offender might reconsider. Well-aired it certainly was, andwidely discussed by the parents of the little town before young peoplewho sat in dumbness, or made faint defense. It was also discussed by theyoung people, but not before their parents. 

She had told Ross, first of all, meaning to have a quiet talk with himto clear the ground before arousing her own family; but he was suddenlyaway just as she opened the subject, by a man on a wheel--some wretchedbusiness about the store of course--and sent word that night that hecould not come up again. Couldn't come up the next night either. Twolong days--two long evenings without seeing him. Well--if she went awayshe'd have to get used to that. 

But she had so many things to explain, so much to say to make itright with him; she knew well what a blow it was. Now it was all overtown--and she had had no chance to defend her position. 

The neighbors called. Tall bony Mrs. Delafield who lived nearest to themand had known Diantha for some years, felt it her duty to make a specialappeal--or attack rather; and brought with her stout Mrs. Schlosster, whose ancestors and traditions were evidently of German extraction. 

Diantha retired to her room when she saw these two bearing down uponthe house; but her mother called her to make a pitcher of lemonade forthem--and having entered there was no escape. They harried her withquestions, were increasingly offended by her reticence, and expresseddisapproval with a fullness that overmastered the girl's self-control. 

"I have as much right to go into business as any other citizen, Mrs. Delafield, " she said with repressed intensity. "I am of age and live ina free country. What you say of children no longer applies to me. "

"And what is this mysterious business you're goin' into--if onemay inquire? Nothin you're ashamed to mention, I hope?" asked Mrs. Delafield. 

"If a woman refuses to mention her age is it because she's ashamed ofit?" the girl retorted, and Mrs. Delafield flushed darkly. 

"Never have I heard such talk from a maiden to her elders, " said Mrs. Schlosster. "In my country the young have more respect, as is right. "

Mrs. Bell objected inwardly to any reprimand of her child by others; butshe agreed to the principle advanced and made no comment. 

Diantha listened to quite a volume of detailed criticism, inquiry andcondemnation, and finally rose to her feet with the stiff courtesy ofthe young. 

"You must excuse me now, " she said with set lips. "I have some necessarywork to do. "

She marched upstairs, shut her bedroom door and locked it, raginginwardly. "Its none of their business! Not a shadow! Why should Mothersit there and let them talk to me like that! One would think childhoodhad no limit--unless it's matrimony!"

This reminded her of her younger sister's airs of superior wisdom, anddid not conduce to a pleasanter frame of mind. "With all their miserablelittle conventions and idiocies! And what 'they'll say, ' and 'they'llthink'! As if I cared! Minnie'll be just such another!"

She heard the ladies going out, still talking continuously, a faintresponse from her mother now and then, a growing quiet as their stepsreceded toward the gate; and then another deeper voice took up the themeand heavily approached. 

It was the minister! Diantha dropped into her rocker and held the armstight. "Now I'll have to take it again I suppose. But he ought to knowme well enough to understand. "

"Diantha!" called her mother, "Here's Dr. Major;" and the girl washedher face and came down again. 

Dr. Major was a heavy elderly man with a strong mouth and a warm handclasp. "What's all this I hear about you, young lady?" he demanded, holding her hand and looking her straight in the eye. "Is this a newkind of Prodigal Daughter we're encountering?"

He did not look nor sound condemnatory, and as she faced him she caughta twinkle in the wise old eyes. 

"You can call it that if you want to, " she said, "Only I thought theProdigal Son just spent his money--I'm going to earn some. "

"I want you to talk to Diantha, Doctor Major, " Mrs. Bell struck in. "I'mgoing to ask you to excuse me, and go and lie down for a little. I dobelieve she'll listen to you more than to anybody. "

The mother retired, feeling sure that the good man who had known herdaughter for over fifteen years would have a restraining influence now;and Diantha braced herself for the attack. 

It came, heavy and solid, based on reason, religion, tradition, thecustom of ages, the pastoral habit of control and protection, thefather's instinct, the man's objection to a girl's adventure. But it wascourteous, kind, and rationally put, and she met it point by point withthe whole-souled arguments of a new position, the passionate enthusiasmof her years. 

They called a truce. 

"I can see that you _think_ its your duty, young, woman--that's the mainthing. I think you're wrong. But what you believe to be right youhave to do. That's the way we learn my dear, that's the way we learn!Well--you've been a good child ever since I've known you. A remarkablygood child. If you have to sow this kind of wild oats--" they bothsmiled at this, "I guess we can't stop you. I'll keep your secret--"

"Its not a secret really, " the girl explained, "I'll tell them as soonas I'm settled. Then they can tell--if they want to. " And they bothsmiled again. 

"Well--I won't tell till I hear of it then. And--yes, I guess I canfurnish that document with a clean conscience. "

She gave him paper and pen and he wrote, with a grin, handing her theresult. 

She read it, a girlish giggle lightening the atmosphere. "Thank you!"she said earnestly. "Thank you ever so much. I knew you would help me. "

"If you get stuck anywhere just let me know, " he said rising. "ThisProddy Gal may want a return ticket yet!"

"I'll walk first!" said Diantha. 

"O Dr. Major, " cried her mother from the window, "Don't go! We want youto stay to supper of course!"

But he had other calls to make, he said, and went away, his big handsclasped behind him; his head bent, smiling one minute and shaking hishead the next. 

Diantha leaned against a pearly eucalyptus trunk and watched him. Shewould miss Dr. Major. But who was this approaching? Her heart sankmiserably. Mrs. Warden--and _all_ the girls. 

She went to meet them--perforce. Mrs. Warden had always been kind andcourteous to her; the girls she had not seen very much of, but they hadthe sweet Southern manner, were always polite. Ross's mother she mustlove. Ross's sisters too--if she could. Why did the bottom drop out ofher courage at sight of them?

"You dear child!" said Mrs. Warden, kissing her. "I know just how youfeel! You want to help my boy! That's your secret! But this won't do it, my dear!"

"You've no idea how badly Ross feels!" said Madeline. "Mrs. Delafielddropped in just now and told us. You ought to have seen him!"

"He didn't believe it of course, " Adeline put in. "And he wouldn't say athing--not a thing to blame you. "

"We said we'd come over right off--and tried to bring him--but he saidhe'd got to go back to the store, " Coraline explained. 

"He was mad though!" said Dora--"_I_ know. "

Diantha looked from one to the other helplessly. 

"Come in! Come in!" said Mrs. Bell hospitably. "Have this rocker, Mrs. Warden--wouldn't you like some cool drink? Diantha?"

"No indeed!" Mrs. Warden protested. "Don't get a thing. We're goingright back, it's near supper time. No, we can't think of staying, ofcourse not, no indeed!--But we had to come over and hear about this dearchild's idea!--Now tell us all about it, Diantha!"

There they sat--five pairs of curious eyes--and her mother's sadones--all kind--all utterly incapable of understanding. 

She moistened her lips and plunged desperately. "It is nothing dreadful, Mrs. Warden. Plenty of girls go away to earn their livings nowadays. That is all I'm doing. "

"But why go away?"

"I thought you were earning your living before!"

"Isn't teaching earning your living?"

"What _are_ you going to do?" the girls protested variously, and Mrs. Warden, with a motherly smile, suggested!!!!!

"That doesn't explain your wanting to leave Ross, my dear--and yourmother!"

"I don't want to leave them, " protested Diantha, trying to keep hervoice steady. "It is simply that I have made up my mind I can do betterelsewhere. "

"Do what better?" asked Mrs. Warden with sweet patience, which reducedDiantha to the bald statement, "Earn more money in less time. "

"And is that better than staying with your mother and your lover?"pursued the gentle inquisitor; while the girls tried, "What do you wantto earn more money for?" and "I thought you earned a lot before. "

Now Diantha did not wish to state in so many words that she wanted moremoney in order to marry sooner--she had hardly put it to herself thatway. She could not make them see in a few moments that her plan was todo far more for her mother than she would otherwise ever be able to. Andas to making them understand the larger principles at stake--the rangeand depth of her full purpose--that would be physically impossible. 

"I am sorry!" she said with trembling lips. "I am extremely sorry. But--I cannot explain!"

Mrs. Warden drew herself up a little. "Cannot explain to me?--Yourmother, of course, knows?"

"Diantha is naturally more frank with me than with--anyone, " said Mrs. Bell proudly, "But she does not wish her--business--plans--made publicat present!"

Her daughter looked at her with vivid gratitude, but the words "madepublic" were a little unfortunate perhaps. 

"Of course, " Mrs. Warden agreed, with her charming smile, "that we canquite understand. I'm sure I should always wish my girls to feel so. Madeline--just show Mrs. Bell that necktie you're making--she was askingabout the stitch, you remember. "

The necktie was produced and admired, while the other girls askedDiantha if she had her fall dressmaking done yet--and whether shefound wash ribbon satisfactory. And presently the whole graceful familywithdrew, only Dora holding her head with visible stiffness. 

Diantha sat on the floor by her mother, put her head in her lap andcried. "How splendid of you, Mother!" she sobbed. "How simply splendid!I will tell you now--if--if--you won't tell even Father--yet. "

"Dear child" said her Mother, "I'd rather not know in that case. Itis--easier. "

"That's what I kept still for!" said the girl. "It's hard enough, goodness knows--as it is! Its nothing wicked, or even risky, Motherdear--and as far as I can see it is right!"

Her mother smiled through her tears. "If you say that, my dear child, I know there's no stopping you. And I hate to argue with you--even foryour own sake, because it is so much to my advantage to have you here. I--shall miss you--Diantha!"

"Don't, Mother!" sobbed the girl. 

"Its natural for the young to go. We expect it--in time. But you are soyoung yet--and--well, I had hoped the teaching would satisfy you tillRoss was ready. "

Diantha sat up straight. 

"Mother! can't you see Ross'll never be ready! Look at that family! Andthe way they live! And those mortgages! I could wait and teach and savea little even with Father always losing money; but I can't see Rosswearing himself out for years and years--I just _can't_ bear it!"

Her mother stroked her fair hair softly, not surprised that her own pleawas so lost in thought of the brave young lover. 

"And besides, " the girl went on "If I waited--and saved--and marriedRoss--what becomes of _you, _ I'd like to know? What I can't stand is tohave you grow older and sicker--and never have any good time in all yourlife!"

Mrs. Bell smiled tenderly. "You dear child!" she said; as if anaffectionate five-year old had offered to get her a rainbow, "I knowyou mean it all for the best. But, O my _dearest_! I'd rather haveyou--here--at home with me---than any other 'good time' you canimagine!"

She could not see the suffering in her daughter's face; but she feltshe had made an impression, and followed it up with heart-breakingsincerity. She caught the girl to her breast and held her like a littlechild. "O my baby! my baby! Don't leave your mother. I can't bear it!"

A familiar step outside, heavy, yet uncertain, and they both looked ateach other with frightened eyes. 

They had forgotten the biscuit. 

"Supper ready?" asked Mr. Bell, with grim humor. 

"It will be in a moment, Father, " cried Diantha springing to her feet. "At least--in a few moments. "

"Don't fret the child, Father, " said Mrs. Henderson softly. "She'sfeeling bad enough. "

"Sh'd think she would, " replied her husband. "Moreover--to my mind--sheought to. "

He got out the small damp local paper and his pipe, and composed himselfin obvious patience: yet somehow this patience seemed to fill thekitchen, and to act like a ball and chain to Diantha's feet. 

She got supper ready, at last, making griddle-cakes instead of biscuit, and no comment was made of the change: but the tension in the atmospherewas sharply felt by the two women; and possibly by the tall old man, whoate less than usual, and said absolutely nothing. 

"I'm going over to see Edwards about that new incubator, " he said whenthe meal was over, and departed; and Mrs. Bell, after trying in vain todo her mending, wiped her clouded glasses and went to bed. 

Diantha made all neat and tidy; washed her own wet eyes again, and wentout under the moon. In that broad tender mellow light she drew a deepbreath and stretched her strong young arms toward the sky in dumbappeal. 

"I knew it would be hard, " she murmured to herself, "That is I knew thefacts--but I didn't know the feeling!"

She stood at the gate between the cypresses, sat waiting under theacacia boughs, walked restlessly up and down the path outside, the drypepper berries crush softly under foot; bracing herself for one morestruggle--and the hardest of all. 

"He will understand!" he told herself, over and over, but at the bottomof her heart she knew he wouldn't. 

He came at last; a slower, wearier step than usual; came and took bothher hands in his and stood holding them, looking at her questioningly. Then he held her face between his palms and made her look at him. Hereyes were brave and steady, but the mouth trembled in spite of her. 

He stilled it with a kiss, and drew her to a seat on the bench besidehim. "My poor Little Girl! You haven't had a chance yet to really tellme about this thing, and I want you to right now. Then I'm going to killabout forty people in this town! _Somebody_ has been mighty foolish. "

She squeezed his hand, but found it very difficult to speak. Hislove, his sympathy, his tenderness, were so delicious after this day'strials--and before those further ones she could so well anticipate. She didn't wish to cry any more, that would by no means strengthen herposition, and she found she couldn't seem to speak without crying. 

"One would think to hear the good people of this town that you wereabout to leave home and mother for--well, for a trip to the moon!" headded. "There isn't any agreement as to what you're going to do, butthey're unanimous as to its being entirely wrong. Now suppose you tellme about it. "

"I will, " said Diantha. "I began to the other night, you know, you firstof course--it was too bad! your having to go off at that exact moment. Then I had to tell mother--because--well you'll see presently. Nowdear--just let me say it _all_--before you--do anything. "

"Say away, my darling. I trust you perfectly. "

She flashed a grateful look at him. "It is this way, my dear. I havetwo, three, yes four, things to consider:--My own personal problem--myfamily's--yours--and a social one. "

"My family's?" he asked, with a faint shade of offence in his tone. 

"No no dear--your own, " she explained. 

"Better cut mine out, Little Girl, " he said. "I'll consider thatmyself. "

"Well--I won't talk about it if you don't want me to. There are theother three. "

"I won't question your second, nor your imposing third, but isn'tthe first one--your own personal problem--a good deal answered?" hesuggested, holding her close for a moment. 

"Don't!" she said. "I can't talk straight when you put it that way. "

She rose hurriedly and took a step or two up and down. "I don'tsuppose--in spite of your loving me, that I can make you see it as Ido. But I'll be just as clear as I can. There are some years beforeus before we can be together. In that time I intend to go away andundertake a business I am interested in. My purpose is to--develop thework, to earn money, to help my family, and to--well, not to hinderyou. "

"I don't understand, I confess, " he said. "Don't you propose to tell mewhat this 'work' is?"

"Yes--I will--certainly. But not yet dear! Let me try to show you how Ifeel about it. "

"Wait, " said he. "One thing I want to be sure of. Are you doing thiswith any quixotic notion of helping me--in _my_ business? Helping me totake care of my family? Helping me to--" he stood up now, looking verytall and rather forbidding, "No, I won't say that to you. "

"Would there be anything wrong in my meaning exactly that?" she asked, holding her own head a little higher; "both what you said and what youdidn't?"

"It would be absolutely wrong, all of it, " he answered. "I cannotbelieve that the woman I love would--could take such a position. "

"Look here, Ross!" said the girl earnestly. "Suppose you knew wherethere was a gold mine--_knew it_--and by going away for a few years youcould get a real fortune--wouldn't you do it?"

"Naturally I should, " he agreed. 

"Well, suppose it wasn't a gold mine, but a business, a new systemlike those cigar stores--or--some patent amusement specialty--or_anything_--that you knew was better than what you're doing--wouldn'tyou have a right to try it?"

"Of course I should--but what has that to do with this case?"

"Why it's the same thing! Don't you see? I have plans that will be ofreal benefit to all of us, something worth while to _do_--and not onlyfor us but for _everybody_--a real piece of progress--and I'm goingto leave my people--and even you!--for a little while--to make us allhappier later on. "

He smiled lovingly at her but shook his head slowly. "You dear, brave, foolish child!" he said. "I don't for one moment doubt your noblepurposes. But you don't get the man's point of view--naturally. What'smore you don't seem to get the woman's. "

"Can you see no other point of view than those?" she asked. 

"There are no others, " he answered. "Come! come! my darling, don't addthis new difficulty to what we've got to carry! I know you have a hardtime of it at home. Some day, please God, you shall have an easierone! And I'm having a hard time too--I don't deny it. But you are thegreatest joy and comfort I have, dear--you know that. If you go away--itwill be harder and slower and longer--that's all. I shall have you toworry about too. Let somebody else do the gold-mine, dear--you stay hereand comfort your Mother as long as you can--and me. How can I get alongwithout you?"

He tried to put his arm around her again, but she drew back. "Dear, "she said. "If I deliberately do what I think is right--against yourwishes--what will you do?"

"Do?" The laughed bitterly. "What can I do? I'm tied by the leg here--Ican't go after you. I've nothing to pull you out of a scrape with if youget in one. I couldn't do anything but--stand it. "

"And if I go ahead, and do what you don't like--and makeyou--suffer--would you--would you rather be free?" Her voice was verylow and shaken, but he heard her well enough. 

"Free of you? Free of _you_?" He caught her and held her and kissed herover and over. 

"You are mine!" he said. "You have given yourself to me! You cannotleave me. Neither of us is free--ever again. " But she struggled awayfrom him. 

"Both of us are free--to do what we think right, _always_ Ross! Iwouldn't try to stop you if you thought it was your duty to go to theNorth Pole!" She held him a little way off. "Let me tell you, dear. Sitdown--let me tell you all about it. " But he wouldn't sit down. 

"I don't think I want to know the details, " he said. "It doesn't muchmatter what you're going to do--if you really go away. I can't stopyou--I see that. If you think this thing is your 'duty' you'll do it ifit kills us all--and you too! If you have to go--I shall do nothing--cando nothing--but wait till you come back to me! Whatever happens, darling--no matter how you fail--don't ever be afraid to come back tome. "

He folded his arms now--did not attempt to hold her--gave her thefreedom she asked and promised her the love she had almost feared tolose--and her whole carefully constructed plan seemed like a child'ssand castle for a moment; her heroic decision the wildest folly. 

He was not even looking at her; she saw his strong, clean-cut profiledark against the moonlit house, a settled patience in its lines. Duty!Here was duty, surely, with tenderest happiness. She was leaning towardhim--her hand was seeking his, when she heard through the fragrantsilence a sound from her mother's room--the faint creak of her lightrocking chair. She could not sleep--she was sitting up with her trouble, bearing it quietly as she had so many others. 

The quiet everyday tragedy of that distasteful life--the slow witheringaway of youth and hope and ambition into a gray waste of ineffectualsubmissive labor--not only of her life, but of thousands upon thousandslike her--it all rose up like a flood in the girl's hot young heart. 

Ross had turned to her--was holding out his arms to her. "You won't go, my darling!" he said. 

"I am going Wednesday on the 7. 10, " said Diantha. 

CHAPTER IV. A CRYING NEED

 "Lovest thou me?" said the Fair Ladye; And the Lover he said, "Yea!" "Then climb this tree--for my sake, " said she, "And climb it every day!" So from dawn till dark he abrazed the bark And wore his clothes away; Till, "What has this tree to do with thee?" The Lover at last did say. 

It was a poor dinner. Cold in the first place, because Isabel would waitto thoroughly wash her long artistic hands; and put on another dress. She hated the smell of cooking in her garments; hated it worse on herwhite fingers; and now to look at the graceful erect figure, theround throat with the silver necklace about it, the soft smoothhair, silver-filletted, the negative beauty of the dove-colored gown, specially designed for home evenings, one would never dream she had setthe table so well--and cooked the steak so abominably. 

Isabel was never a cook. In the many servantless gaps of domestic lifein Orchardina, there was always a strained atmosphere in the Pornehousehold. 

"Dear, " said Mr. Porne, "might I petition to have the steak less cooked?I know you don't like to do it, so why not shorten the process?"

"I'm sorry, " she answered, "I always forget about the steak from onetime to the next. "

"Yet we've had it three times this week, my dear. "

"I thought you liked it better than anything, " she with markedgentleness. "I'll get you other things--oftener. "

"It's a shame you should have this to do, Isabel. I never meant youshould cook for me. Indeed I didn't dream you cared so little about it. "

"And I never dreamed you cared so much about it, " she replied, stillwith repression. "I'm not complaining, am I? I'm only sorry you shouldbe disappointed in me. "

"It's not _you, _ dear girl! You're all right! It's just this everlastingbother. Can't you get _anybody_ that will stay?"

"I can't seem to get anybody on any terms, so far. I'm going again, to-morrow. Cheer up, dear--the baby keeps well--that's the main thing. "

He sat on the rose-bowered porch and smoked while she cleared the table. At first he had tried to help her on these occasions, but their methodswere dissimilar and she frankly told him she preferred to do it alone. 

So she slipped off the silk and put on the gingham again, washed thedishes with the labored accuracy of a trained mind doing unfamiliarwork, made the bread, redressed at last, and joined him about nineo'clock. 

"It's too late to go anywhere, I suppose?" he ventured. 

"Yes--and I'm too tired. Besides--we can't leave Eddie alone. "

"O yes--I forget. Of course we can't. "

His hand stole out to take hers. "I _am_ sorry, dear. It's awfully roughon you women out here. How do they all stand it?"

"Most of them stand it much better than I do, Ned. You see they don'twant to be doing anything else. "

"Yes. That's the mischief of it!" he agreed; and she looked at him inthe clear moonlight, wondering exactly what he thought the mischief was. 

"Shall we go in and read a bit?" he offered; but she thought not. 

"I'm too tired, I'm afraid. And Eddie'll wake up as soon as we begin. "

So they sat awhile enjoying the soft silence, and the rich flower scentsabout them, till Eddie did wake presently, and Isabel went upstairs. 

She slept little that night, lying quite still, listening to herhusband's regular breathing so near her, and the lighter sound from thecrib. "I am a very happy woman, " she told herself resolutely; but therewas no outpouring sense of love and joy. She knew she was happy, but byno means felt it. So she stared at the moon shadows and thought it over. 

She had planned the little house herself, with such love, such hope, such tender happy care! Not her first work, which won high praise in theschool in Paris, not the prize-winning plan for the library, now gracingOrchardina's prettiest square, was as dear to her as this most womanlytask--the making of a home. 

It was the library success which brought her here, fresh from herforeign studies, and Orchardina accepted with western cordiality theyouth and beauty of the young architect, though a bit surprised at firstthat "I. H. Wright" was an Isabel. In her further work of overseeingthe construction of that library, she had met Edgar Porne, one ofthe numerous eager young real estate men of that region, who showed aliberal enthusiasm for the general capacity of women in the professions, and a much warmer feeling for the personal attractions of this one. 

Together they chose the lot on pepper-shaded Inez Avenue; together theywatched the rising of the concrete walls and planned the garden walksand seats, and the tiny precious pool in the far corner. He was sosympathetic! so admiring! He took as much pride in the big "drawingroom" on the third floor as she did herself. "Architecture is such finework to do at home!" they had both agreed. "Here you have your northlight--your big table--plenty of room for work! You will grow famouserand famouser, " he had lovingly insisted. And she had answered, "I fear Ishall be too contented, dear, to want to be famous. "

That was only some year and a-half ago, --but Isabel, lying there byher sleeping husband and sleeping child, was stark awake and only byassertion happy. She was thinking, persistently, of dust. She loved adelicate cleanliness. Her art was a precise one, her studio a workshopof white paper and fine pointed hard pencils, her painting themechanical perfection of an even wash of color. And she saw, throughthe floors and walls and the darkness, the dust in the little shadedparlor--two days' dust at least, and Orchardina is very dusty!--dust inthe dining-room gathered since yesterday--the dust in the kitchen--shewould not count time there, and the dust--here she counted itinexorably--the dust of eight days in her great, light workroomupstairs. Eight days since she had found time to go up there. 

Lying there, wide-eyed and motionless, she stood outside in thought andlooked at the house--as she used to look at it with him, before theywere married. Then, it had roused every blessed hope and dream of weddedjoy--it seemed a casket of uncounted treasures. Now, in this drearymood, it seemed not only a mere workshop, but one of alien tasks, continuous, impossible, like those set for the Imprisoned Princessby bad fairies in the old tales. In thought she entered thewell-proportioned door--the Gate of Happiness--and a musty smell greetedher--she had forgotten to throw out those flowers! She turned to theparlor--no, the piano keys were gritty, one had to clean them twice aday to keep that room as she liked it. 

From room to room she flitted, in her mind, trying to recall theexquisite things they meant to her when she had planned them; and eachone now opened glaring and blank, as a place to work in--and the workundone. 

"If I were an abler woman!" she breathed. And then her common sense andcommon honesty made her reply to herself: "I am able enough--in my ownwork! Nobody can do everything. I don't believe Edgar'd do it any betterthan I do. --He don't have to!"--and then such a wave of bitterness rushedover her that she was afraid, and reached out one hand to touch thecrib--the other to her husband. 

He awakened instantly. "What is it, Dear?" he asked. "Too tired tosleep, you poor darling? But you do love me a little, don't you?"

"O _yes_!" she answered. "I do. Of _course_ I do! I'm just tired, Iguess. Goodnight, Sweetheart. "

She was late in getting to sleep and late in waking. 

When he finally sat down to the hurriedly spread breakfast-table, Mr. Porne, long coffeeless, found it a bit difficult to keep his temper. Isabel was a little stiff, bringing in dishes and cups, and paying noattention to the sounds of wailing from above. 

"Well if you won't I will!" burst forth the father at last, and ranupstairs, returning presently with a fine boy of some eleven months, whoceased to bawl in these familiar arms, and contented himself, for themoment, with a teaspoon. 

"Aren't you going to feed him?" asked Mr. Porne, with forced patience. 

"It isn't time yet, " she announced wearily. "He has to have his bathfirst. "

"Well, " with a patience evidently forced farther, "isn't it time to feedme?"

"I'm very sorry, " she said. "The oatmeal is burned again. You'll haveto eat cornflakes. And--the cream is sour--the ice didn't come--or atleast, perhaps I was out when it came--and then I forgot it. .. .. I hadto go to the employment agency in the morning!. .. . I'm sorry I'm so--soincompetent. "

"So am I, " he commented drily. "Are there any crackers for instance? Andhow about coffee?"

She brought the coffee, such as it was, and a can of condensed milk. Also crackers, and fruit. She took the baby and sat silent. 

"Shall I come home to lunch?" he asked. 

"Perhaps you'd better not, " she replied coldly. 

"Is there to be any dinner?"

"Dinner will be ready at six-thirty, if I have to get it myself. "

"If you have to get it yourself I'll allow for seven-thirty, " said he, trying to be cheerful, though she seemed little pleased by it. "Now don't take it so hard, Ellie. You are a first-class architect, anyhow--one can't be everything. We'll get another girl in time. This isjust the common lot out here. All the women have the same trouble. "

"Most women seem better able to meet it!" she burst forth. "It's notmy trade! I'm willing to work, I like to work, but I can't _bear_housework! I can't seem to learn it at all! And the servants will not doit properly!"

"Perhaps they know your limitations, and take advantage of them! Butcheer up, dear. It's no killing matter. Order by phone, don't forget theice, and I'll try to get home early and help. Don't cry, dear girl, Ilove you, even if you aren't a good cook! And you love me, don't you?"

He kissed her till she had to smile back at him and give him a lovinghug; but after he had gone, the gloom settled upon her spirits oncemore. She bathed the baby, fed him, put him to sleep; and came back tothe table. The screen door had been left ajar and the house was buzzingwith flies, hot, with a week's accumulating disorder. The bread shemade last night in fear and trembling, was hanging fatly over the pans;perhaps sour already. She clapped it into the oven and turned on theheat. 

Then she stood, undetermined, looking about that messy kitchen while thebig flies bumped and buzzed on the windows, settled on every dish, andswung in giddy circles in the middle of the room. Turning swiftly sheshut the door on them. The dining-room was nearly as bad. She beganto put the cups and plates together for removal; but set her tray downsuddenly and went into the comparative coolness of the parlor, closingthe dining-room door behind her. 

She was quite tired enough to cry after several nights of broken restand days of constant discomfort and irritation; but a sense of risinganger kept the tears back. 

"Of course I love him!" she said to herself aloud but softly, remembering the baby, "And no doubt he loves me! I'm glad to be hiswife! I'm glad to be a mother to his child! I'm glad I married him!But--_this_ is not what he offered! And it's not what I undertook! Hehasn't had to change his business!"

She marched up and down the scant space, and then stopped short andlaughed drily, continuing her smothered soliloquy. 

"'Do you love me?' they ask, and, 'I will make you happy!' they say; andyou get married--and after that it's Housework!"

"They don't say, 'Will you be my Cook?' 'Will you be my Chamber maid?''Will you give up a good clean well-paid business that you love--thathas big hope and power and beauty in it--and come and keep house forme?'"

"Love him? I'd be in Paris this minute if I didn't! What has 'love' todo with dust and grease and flies!"

Then she did drop on the small sofa and cry tempestuously for a littlewhile; but soon arose, fiercely ashamed of her weakness, and faced theday; thinking of the old lady who had so much to do she couldn't thinkwhat to first--so she sat down and made a pincushion. 

Then--where to begin!

"Eddie will sleep till half-past ten--if I'm lucky. It's now nearlyhalf-past nine, " she meditated aloud. "If I do the upstairs work I mightwake him. I mustn't forget the bread, the dishes, the parlor--O thoseflies! Well--I'll clear the table first!"

Stepping softly, and handling the dishes with slow care, she cleaned thebreakfast table and darkened the dining-room, flapping out some of theflies with a towel. Then she essayed the parlor, dusting and arrangingwith undecided steps. "It _ought_ to be swept, " she admitted to herself;"I can't do it--there isn't time. I'll make it dark--"

"I'd rather plan a dozen houses!" she fiercely muttered, as she fussedabout. "Yes--I'd rather build 'em--than to keep one clean!"

Then were her hopes dashed by a rising wail from above. She sat quitestill awhile, hoping against hope that he would sleep again; but hewouldn't. So she brought him down in full cry. 

In her low chair by the window she held him and produced bright andjingling objects from the tall workbasket that stood near by, sighingagain as she glanced at its accumulated mending. 

Master Eddy grew calm and happy in her arms, but showed a growinginterest in the pleasing materials produced for his amusement, and adesire for closer acquaintance. Then a penetrating odor filled the air, and with a sudden "O dear!" she rose, put the baby on the sofa, andstarted toward the kitchen. 

At this moment the doorbell rang. 

Mrs. Porne stopped in her tracks and looked at the door. It remainedopaque and immovable. She looked at the baby--who jiggled his spools andcrowed. Then she flew to the oven and dragged forth the bread, not muchburned after all. Then she opened the door. 

A nice looking young woman stood before her, in a plain travelling suit, holding a cheap dress-suit case in one hand and a denim "roll-bag" inthe other, who met her with a cheerful inquiring smile. 

"Are you Mrs. Edgar Porne?" she asked. 

"I am, " answered that lady, somewhat shortly, her hand on the doorknob, her ear on the baby, her nose still remorsefully in the kitchen, hereyes fixed sternly on her visitor the while; as she wondered whether itwas literature, cosmetics, or medicine. 

She was about to add that she didn't want anything, when the younglady produced a card from the Rev. Benjamin A. Miner, Mrs. Porne'sparticularly revered minister, and stated that she had heard there was avacancy in her kitchen and she would like the place. 

"Introducing Mrs. D. Bell, well known to friends of mine. "

"I don't know--" said Mrs. Porne, reading the card without in the leastgrasping what it said. "I--"

Just then there was a dull falling sound followed by a sharp rising one, and she rushed into the parlor without more words. 

When she could hear and be heard again, she found Mrs. Bell seatedin the shadowy little hall, serene and cool. "I called on Mr. Mineryesterday when I arrived, " said she, "with letters of introduction frommy former minister, told him what I wanted to do, and asked him if hecould suggest anyone in immediate need of help in this line. He saidhe had called here recently, and believed you were looking for someone. Here is the letter I showed him, " and she handed Mrs. Porne a mostfriendly and appreciative recommendation of Miss D. Bell by a ministerin Jopalez, Inca Co. , stating that the bearer was fully qualified todo all kinds of housework, experienced, honest, kind, had worked sevenyears in one place, and only left it hoping to do better in SouthernCalifornia. 

Backed by her own pastor's approval this seemed to Mrs. Porne fullysufficient. The look of the girl pleased her, though suspiciouslyabove her station in manner; service of any sort was scarce and high inOrchardina, and she had been an agelong week without any. "When can youcome?" she asked. 

"I can stop now if you like, " said the stranger. "This is my baggage. But we must arrange terms first. If you like to try me I will come thisweek from noon to-day to noon next Friday, for seven dollars, and thenif you are satisfied with my work we can make further arrangements. I donot do laundry work, of course, and don't undertake to have any care ofthe baby. "

"I take care of my baby myself!" said Mrs. Porne, thinking the new girlwas presuming, though her manner was most gently respectful. But a weekwas not long, she was well recommended, and the immediate pressurein that kitchen where the harvest was so ripe and the laborers sofew--"Well--you may try the week, " she said. "I'll show you your room. And what is your name?"

"Miss Bell. "

CHAPTER V. 

 When the fig growns on the thistle, And the silk purse on the sow; When one swallow brings the summer, And blue moons on her brow!!!!!

 Then we may look for strength and skill, Experience, good health, good will, Art and science well combined, Honest soul and able mind, Servants built upon this plan, One to wait on every man, Patiently from youth to age, -- For less than a street cleaner's wage!

 When the parson's gay on Mondays, When we meet a month of Sundays, We may look for them and find them-- But Not Now!

When young Mrs. Weatherstone swept her trailing crepe from theautomobile to her friend's door, it was opened by a quick, soft-footedmaid with a pleasant face, who showed her into a parlor, not only cooland flower-lit, but having that fresh smell that tells of new-washedfloors. 

Mrs. Porne came flying down to meet her, with such a look of rest andcomfort as roused instant notice. 

"Why, Belle! I haven't seen you look so bright in ever so long. It mustbe the new maid!"

"That's it--she's 'Bell' too--'Miss Bell' if you please!"

The visitor looked puzzled. "Is she a--a friend?" she ventured, not sureof her ground. 

"I should say she was! A friend in need! Sit here by the window, Viva--and I'll tell you all about it--as far as it goes. "

She gaily recounted her climax of confusion and weariness, and thesudden appearance of this ministering angel. "She arrived at aboutquarter of ten. I engaged her inside of five minutes. She was into agingham gown and at work by ten o'clock!"

"What promptness! And I suppose there was plenty to do!"

Mrs. Porne laughed unblushingly. "There was enough for ten women itseemed to me! Let's see--it's about five now--seven hours. We have ninerooms, besides the halls and stairs, and my shop. She hasn't touchedthat yet. But the house is clean--_clean_! Smell it!"

She took her guest out into the hall, through the library anddining-room, upstairs where the pleasant bedrooms stretched open andorderly. 

"She said that if I didn't mind she'd give it a superficial generalcleaning today and be more thorough later!"

Mrs. Weatherstone looked about her with a rather languid interest. "I'mvery glad for you, Belle, dear--but--what an endless nuisance it allis--don't you think so?"

"Nuisance! It's slow death! to me at least, " Mrs. Porne answered. "ButI don't see why you should mind. I thought Madam Weatherstone ranthat--palace, of yours, and you didn't have any trouble at all. "

"Oh yes, she runs it. I couldn't get along with her at all if shedidn't. That's her life. It was my mother's too. Always fussing andfussing. Their houses on their backs--like snails!"

"Don't see why, with ten (or is it fifteen?) servants. "

"Its twenty, I think. But my dear Belle, if you imagine that when youhave twenty servants you have neither work nor care--come and try itawhile, that's all!"

"Not for a millionaire baby's ransom!" answered Isabel promptly. 

"Give me my drawing tools and plans and I'm happy--but thisbusiness"--she swept a white hand wearily about--"it's not my work, that's all. "

"But you _enjoy_ it, don't you--I mean having nice things?" asked herfriend. 

"Of course I enjoy it, but so does Edgar. Can't a woman enjoy her home, just as a man does, without running the shop? I enjoy ocean travel, butI don't want to be either a captain or a common sailor!"

Mrs. Weatherstone smiled, a little sadly. "You're lucky, you haveother interests, " she said. "How about our bungalow? have you got anyfarther?"

Mrs. Porne flushed. "I'm sorry, Viva. You ought to have given it tosomeone else. I haven't gone into that workroom for eight solid days. Nohelp, and the baby, you know. And I was always dog-tired. "

"That's all right, dear, there's no very great rush. You can get at itnow, can't you--with this other Belle to the fore?"

"She's not Belle, bless you--she's 'Miss Bell. ' It's her last name. "

Mrs. Weatherstone smiled her faint smile. "Well--why not? Like aseamstress, I suppose. "

"Exactly. " That's what she said. "If this labor was as important as thatof seamstress or governess why not the same courtesy--Oh she's a mostsuperior _and_ opinionated young person, I can see that. "

"I like her looks, " admitted Mrs. Weatherstone, "but can't we look overthose plans again; there's something I wanted to suggest. " And they wentup to the big room on the third floor. 

In her shop and at her work Isabel Porne was a different woman. Shewas eager and yet calm; full of ideas and ideals, yet with a practicalknowledge of details that made her houses dear to the souls of women. 

She pointed out in the new drawings the practical advantages of kitchenand pantry; the simple but thorough ventilation, the deep closets, tillher friend fairly laughed at her. "And you say you're not domestic!"

"I'm a domestic architect, if you like, " said Isabel; "but not adomestic servant. --I'll remember what you say about those windows--it'sa good idea, " and she made a careful note of Mrs. Weatherstone'ssuggestion. 

That lady pushed the plans away from her, and went to the many cushionedlounge in the wide west window, where she sat so long silent that Isabelfollowed at last and took her hand. 

"Did you love him so much?" she asked softly. 

"Who?" was the surprising answer. 

"Why--Mr. Weatherstone, " said Mrs. Porne. 

"No--not very much. But he was something. "

Isabel was puzzled. "I knew you so well in school, " she said, "andthat gay year in Paris. You were always a dear, submissive quiet littlething--but not like this. What's happened Viva?"

"Nothing that anybody can help, " said her friend. "Nothing that matters. What does matter, anyway? Fuss and fuss and fuss. Dress and entertain. Travel till you're tired, and rest till you're crazy! Then--when a realthing happens--there's all this!" and she lifted her black draperiesdisdainfully. "And mourning notepaper and cards and servant'slivery--and all the things you mustn't do!"

Isabel put an arm around her. "Don't mind, dear--you'll get overthis--you are young enough yet--the world is full of things to do!"

But Mrs. Weatherstone only smiled her faint smile again. "I lovedanother man, first, " she said. "A real one. He died. He never caredfor me at all. I cared for nothing else--nothing in life. That's whyI married Martin Weatherstone--not for his old millions--but he reallycared--and I was sorry for him. Now he's dead. And I'm wearing this--andstill mourning for the other one. "

Isabel held her hand, stroked it softly, laid it against her cheek. 

"Oh, I'll feel differently in time, perhaps!" said her visitor. 

"Maybe if you took hold of the house--if you ran thingsyourself, "--ventured Mrs. Porne. 

Mrs. Weatherstone laughed. "And turn out the old lady? You don't knowher. Why she managed her son till he ran away from her--and after he gotso rich and imported her from Philadelphia to rule over Orchardina ingeneral and his household in particular, she managed that poor littlefirst wife of his into her grave, and that wretched boy--he's theonly person that manages her! She's utterly spoiled him--that was hisfather's constant grief. No, no--let her run the house--she thinks sheowns it. "

"She's fond of you, isn't she?" asked Mrs. Porne. 

"O I guess so--if I let her have her own way. And she certainly saves mea great deal of trouble. Speaking of trouble, there they are--she saidshe'd stop for me. "

At the gate puffed the big car, a person in livery rang the bell, andMrs. Weatherstone kissed her friend warmly, and passed like a heavyshadow along the rose-bordered path. In the tonneau sat a massive oldlady in sober silks, with a set impassive countenance, severely correctin every feature, and young Mat Weatherstone, sulky because he had toride with his grandmother now and then. He was not a nice young man. 

*****

Diantha found it hard to write her home letters, especially to Ross. Shecould not tell them of all she meant to do; and she must tell them ofthis part of it, at once, before they heard of it through others. 

To leave home--to leave school-teaching, to leave love--and "go out toservice" did not seem a step up, that was certain. But she set her redlips tighter and wrote the letters; wrote them and mailed them thatevening, tired though she was. 

Three letters came back quickly. 

Her mother's answer was affectionate, patient, and trustful, though notunderstanding. 

Her sister's was as unpleasant as she had expected. 

"The _idea!_" wrote Mrs. Susie. "A girl with a good home to live in andanother to look forward to--and able to earn money _respectably!_ togo out and work like a common Irish girl! Why Gerald is so mortified hecan't face his friends--and I'm as ashamed as I can be! My own sister!You must be _crazy_--simply _crazy!_"

It was hard on them. Diantha had faced her own difficulties bravelyenough; and sympathized keenly with her mother, and with Ross; but shehad not quite visualized the mortification of her relatives. She foundtears in her eyes over her mother's letter. Her sister's made her bothsorry and angry--a most disagreeable feeling--as when you step on thecat on the stairs. Ross's letter she held some time without opening. 

She was in her little upstairs room in the evening. She had swept, scoured, scalded and carbolized it, and the hospitally smell was nowgiving way to the soft richness of the outer air. The "hoo! hoo!" of thelittle mourning owl came to her ears through the whispering night, andlarge moths beat noiselessly against the window screen. She kissed theletter again, held it tightly to her heart for a moment, and opened it. 

"Dearest: I have your letter with its--somewhat surprising--news. It isa comfort to know where you are, that you are settled and in no danger. 

"I can readily imagine that this is but the preliminary to somethingelse, as you say so repeatedly; and I can understand also that you aretoo wise to tell me all you mean to be beforehand. 

"I will be perfectly frank with you, Dear. 

"In the first place I love you. I shall love you always, whatever youdo. But I will not disguise from you that this whole business seems tome unutterably foolish and wrong. 

"I suppose you expect by some mysterious process to "develope" and"elevate" this housework business; and to make money. I should not loveyou any better if you made a million--and I would not take money fromyou--you know that, I hope. If in the years we must wait before we canmarry, you are happier away from me--working in strange kitchens--oroffices--that is your affair. 

"I shall not argue nor plead with you, Dear Girl; I know you think youare doing right; and I have no right, nor power, to prevent you. Butif my wish were right and power, you would be here to-night, under theshadow of the acacia boughs--in my arms!

"Any time you feel like coming back you will be welcome, Dear. 

"Yours, Ross. "

"Any time she felt like coming back?

Diantha slipped down in a little heap by the bed, her face on theletter--her arms spread wide. The letter grew wetter and wetter, and hershoulders shook from time to time. 

But the hands were tight-clenched, and if you had been near enough youmight have heard a dogged repetition, monotonous as a Tibetan prayermill: "It is right. It is right. It is right. " And then. "Helpme--please! I need it. " Diantha was not "gifted in prayer. "

When Mr. Porne came home that night he found the wifely smile which issupposed to greet all returning husbands quite genuinely in evidence. "OEdgar!" cried she in a triumphant whisper, "I've got such a nicegirl! She's just as neat and quick; you've no idea the work she's donetoday--it looks like another place already. But if things look queerat dinner don't notice it--for I've just given her her head. I was sotired, and baby bothered so, and she said that perhaps she couldmanage all by herself if I was willing to risk it, so I took baby for acar-ride and have only just got back. And I _think_ the dinner's goingto be lovely!"

It was lovely. The dining-room was cool and flyless. The table was setwith an assured touch. A few of Orchardina's ever ready roses in a glassbowl gave an air of intended beauty Mrs. Porne had had no time for. 

The food was well-cooked and well-served, and the attendance showed anintelligent appreciation of when people want things and how they wantthem. 

Mrs. Porne quite glowed with exultation, but her husband gentlysuggested that the newness of the broom was visibly uppermost, and thatsuch palpable perfections were probably accompanied by some drawbacks. But he liked her looks, he admitted, and the cooking would cover amultitude of sins. 

On this they rested, while the week went by. It was a full week, anda short one. Mrs. Porne, making hay while the sun shone, caught up alittle in her sewing and made some conscience-tormenting calls. 

When Thursday night came around she was simply running over withinformation to give her husband. 

"Such a talk as I have had with Miss Bell! She is so queer! But she'snice too, and it's all reasonable enough, what she says. You know she'sstudied this thing all out, and she knows about it--statistics andthings. I was astonished till I found she used to teach school. Justthink of it! And to be willing to work out! She certainly does her workbeautiful, but--it doesn't seem like having a servant at all. I feel asif I--boarded with her!"

"Why she seemed to me very modest and unpresuming, " put in Mr. Porne. 

"O yes, she never presumes. But I mean the capable way she manages--Idon't have to tell her one thing, nor to oversee, nor criticize. I spokeof it and she said, 'If I didn't understand the business I should haveno right to undertake it. "

"That's a new point of view, isn't it?" asked her husband. "Don't theyusually make you teach them their trade and charge for the privilege?"

"Yes, of course they do. But then she does have her disadvantages--asyou said. "

"Does she? What are they?"

"Why she's so--rigid. I'll read you her--I don't know what to call it. She's written out a definite proposition as to her staying with us, andI want you to study it, it's the queerest thing I ever saw. "

The document was somewhat novel. A clear statement of the hours of laborrequired in the position, the quality and amount of the different kindsof work; the terms on which she was willing to undertake it, and allprefaced by a few remarks on the status of household labor which madeMr. Porne open his eyes. 

Thus Miss Bell; "The ordinary rate for labor in this state, unskilledlabor of the ordinary sort, is $2. 00 a day. This is in return forthe simplest exertion of brute force, under constant supervision anddirection, and involving no serious risk to the employer. "

"Household labor calls for the practice of several distinct crafts, and, to be properly done, requires thorough training and experience. Its performer is not only in a position of confidence, as necessarilyentrusted with the care of the employer's goods and with knowledge ofthe most intimate family relations; but the work itself, in maintainingthe life and health of the members of the household, is of most vitalimportance. 

"In consideration of existing economic conditions, however, I am willingto undertake these intricate and responsible duties for a seven day weekat less wages than are given the street-digger, for $1. 50 a day. "

"Good gracious, my dear!" said Mr. Porne, laying down the paper, "Thisyoung woman does appreciate her business! And we're to be let off easyat $45. 00 a month, are we. "

"And feel under obligations at that!" answered his wife. "But you readahead. It is most instructive. We shall have to ask her to read a paperfor the Club!"

"'In further consideration of the conditions of the time, I am willingto accept part payment in board and lodging instead of cash. Suchaccommodations as are usually offered with this position may be rated at$17. 00 a month. '"

"O come now, don't we board her any better than that?"

"That's what I thought, and I asked her about it, and she explained thatshe could get a room as good for a dollar and a-half a week--she hadactually made inquiries in this very town! And she could; really abetter room, better furnished, that is, and service with it. You knowI've always meant to get the girl's room fixed more prettily, butusually they don't seem to mind. And as to food--you see she knows allabout the cost of things, and the materials she consumes are really notmore than two dollars and a half a week, if they are that. She even madesome figures for me to prove it--see. "

Mr. Porne had to laugh. 

"Breakfast. Coffee at thirty-five cents per pound, one cup, one cent. Oatmeal at fourteen cents per package, one bowl, one cent. Bread at fivecents per loaf, two slices, one-half cent. Butter at forty cents perpound, one piece, one and a-half cents. Oranges at thirty cents perdozen, one, three cents. Milk at eight cents per quart, on oatmeal, onecent. Meat or fish or egg, average five cents. Total--thirteen cents. "

"There! And she showed me dinner and lunch the same way. I had no ideafood, just the material, cost so little. It's the labor, she says thatmakes it cost even in the cheapest restaurant. "

"I see, " said Mr. Porne. "And in the case of the domestic servant wefurnish the materials and she furnishes the labor. She cooks her ownfood and waits on herself--naturally it wouldn't come high. What doesshe make it?"

 'Food, average per day. .. .. .. .. .. .. $0. 35 Room, $1. 50 per w'k, ave. Per day. .. .. 22 ----- . 57

 Total, per month. .. $17. 10

 $1. 50 per day, per month. .. $45. 00

"'Remaining payable in cash, $28. 00. ' Do I still live! But my dearEllie, that's only what an ordinary first-class cook charges, out here, without all this fuss!"

"I know it, Ned, but you know we think it's awful, and we're alwaystelling about their getting their board and lodging clear--as if wegave'em that out of the goodness of our hearts!"

"Exactly, my dear. And this amazing and arithmetical young woman makesus feel as if we were giving her wampum instead of money--mere primitivebarter of ancient days in return for her twentieth century services! Howdoes she do her work--that's the main question. "

"I never saw anyone do it better, or quicker, or easier. That is, Ithought it was easy till she brought me this paper. Just read about herwork, and you'll feel as if we ought to pay her all your salary. "

Mr. Porne read:

"Labor performed, average ten hours a day, as follows: Preparation offood materials, care of fires, cooking, table service, and cleaning ofdishes, utensils, towels, stove, etc. , per meal--breakfast two hours, dinner three hours, supper or lunch one hour--six hours per day for foodservice. Daily chamber work and dusting, etc. , one and one-half hoursper day. Weekly cleaning for house of nine rooms, with halls, stairs, closets, porches, steps, walks, etc. , sweeping, dusting, washingwindows, mopping, scouring, etc. , averaging two hours per day. Doorservice, waiting on tradesmen, and extras one-half hour per day. Totalten hours per day. "

"That sounds well. Does it take that much time every day?"

"Yes, indeed! It would take me twenty!" she answered. "You know the weekI was here alone I never did half she does. Of course I had Baby, butthen I didn't do the things. I guess when it doesn't take so long theyjust don't do what ought to be done. For she is quick, awfully quickabout her work. And she's thorough. I suppose it ought to be done thatway--but I never had one before. "

"She keeps mighty fresh and bright-looking after these herculeanlabors. "

"Yes, but then she rests! Her ten hours are from six-thirty a. M. , when she goes into the kitchen as regularly as a cuckoo clock, toeight-thirty p. M. When she is all through and her kitchen looks likea--well it's as clean and orderly as if no one was ever in it. "

"Ten hours--that's fourteen. "

"I know it, but she takes out four. She claims time to eat her meals. "

"Preposterous!"

"Half an hour apiece, and half an hour in the morning to rest--and twoin the afternoon. Anyway she is out, two hours every afternoon, ridingin the electric cars!"

"That don't look like a very hard job. Her day laborer doesn't get twohours off every afternoon to take excursions into the country!"

"No, I know that, but he doesn't begin so early, nor stop so late. Shedoes her square ten hours work, and I suppose one has a right to timeoff. "

"You seem dubious about that, my dear. "

"Yes, that's just where it's awkward. I'm used to girls being in all thetime, excepting their day out. You see I can't leave baby, nor alwaystake him--and it interferes with my freedom afternoons. "

"Well--can't you arrange with her somehow?"

"See if you can. She says she will only give ten hours of time for adollar and a half a day--tisn't but fifteen cents an hour--I have topay a woman twenty that comes in. And if she is to give up her chanceof sunlight and fresh air she wants me to pay her extra--by the hour. Orshe says, if I prefer, she would take four hours every other day--and sobe at home half the time. I said it was difficult to arrange--with baby, and she was very sympathetic and nice, but she won't alter her plans. "

"Let her go, and get a less exacting servant. "

"But--she does her work so well! And it saves a lot, really. She knowsall about marketing and things, and plans the meals so as to have thingslap, and it's a comfort to have her in the house and feel so safe andsure everything will be done right. "

"Well, it's your province, my dear. I don't profess to advise. But Iassure you I appreciate the table, and the cleanness of everything, andthe rested look in your eyes, dear girl!"

She slipped her hand into his affectionately. "It does make adifference, " she said. "I _could_ get a girl for $20. 00 and save nearly$2. 60 a week--but you know what they are!"

"I do indeed, " he admitted fervently. "It's worth the money to have thisthing done so well. I think she's right about the wages. Better keepher. "

"O--she'll only agree to stay six months even at this rate!"

"Well--keep her six months and be thankful. I thought she was too goodto last!"

They looked over the offered contract again. It closed with:

"This agreement to hold for six months from date if mutuallysatisfactory. In case of disagreement two weeks' notice is to be givenon either side, or two weeks' wages if preferred by the employer. " Itwas dated, and signed "Miss D. C. Bell. "

And with inward amusement and great display of penmanship they added"Mrs. Isabel J. Porne, " and the contract was made. 

CHAPTER VI. THE CYNOSURE. 

 It's a singular thing that the commonest place Is the hardest to properly fill; That the labor imposed on a full half the race Is so seldom performed with good will-- To say nothing of knowledge or skill!

 What we ask of all women, we stare at in one, And tribute of wonderment bring; If this task of the million is once fitly done We all hold our hands up and sing! It's really a singular thing!

Isabel Porne was a cautious woman, and made no acclaim over her newacquisition until its value was proven. Her husband also bided histime; and when congratulated on his improved appearance and air ofcontentment, merely vouchsafed that his wife had a new girl who couldcook. 

To himself he boasted that he had a new wife who could love--so cheerfuland gay grew Mrs. Porne in the changed atmosphere of her home. 

"It is remarkable, Edgar, " she said, dilating repeatedly on the peculiarquality of their good fortune. "It's not only good cooking, and goodwaiting, and a clean house--cleaner than I ever saw one before; and it'snot only the quietness, and regularity and economy--why the bills havegone down more than a third!"

"Yes--even I noticed that, " he agreed. 

"But what I enjoy the most is the _atmosphere, _" she continued. "When Ihave to do the work, the house is a perfect nightmare to me!" She leanedforward from her low stool, her elbows on her knees, her chin in herhands, and regarded him intently. 

"Edgar! You know I love you. And I love my baby--I'm no unfeelingmonster! But I can tell you frankly that if I'd had any idea of whathousework was like I'd never have given up architecture to try it. "

"Lucky for me you hadn't!" said he fondly. "I know it's been hardfor you, little girl. I never meant that you should give uparchitecture--that's a business a woman could carry on at home Ithought, the designing part anyway. There's your 'drawing-room' and allyour things--"

"Yes, " she said, with reminiscent bitterness, "there they are--and therethey might have stayed, untouched--if Miss Bell hadn't come!"

"Makes you call her "Miss Bell" all the time, does she?"

Mrs. Porne laughed. "Yes. I hated it at first, but she asked if I couldgive her any real reason why the cook should be called by her firstname more than the seamstress or governess. I tried to say that it wasshorter, but she smiled and said that in this case it was longer!--Hername is Diantha--I've seen it on letters. And it is one syllable longer. Anyhow I've got used to Miss Bell now. "

"She gets letters often?"

"Yes--very often--from Topolaya where she came from. I'm afraid she'sengaged. " Mrs. Porne sighed ruefully. 

"I don't doubt it!" said Mr. Porne. "That would account for her sixmonths' arrangement! Well, my dear--make hay while the sun shines!"

"I do!" she boasted. "Whole stacks! I've had a seamstress in, and gotall my clothes in order and the baby's. We've had lot of dinner-partiesand teas as you know--all my "social obligations" are cleared off! We'vehad your mother for a visit, and mine's coming now--and I wasn'tafraid to have either of them! There's no fault to be found with myhousekeeping now! And there are two things better than that--yes, three. "

"The best thing is to see you look so young and handsome and happyagain, " said her husband, with a kiss. 

"Yes--that's one. Another is that now I feel so easy and lightheartedI can love you and baby--as--as I _do!_ Only when I'm tired anddiscouraged I can't put my hand on it somehow. "

He nodded sympathetically. "I know, dear, " he said. "I feel that waymyself--sometimes. What's the other?"

"Why that's best of all!" she cried triumphantly. "I can Work again!When Baby's asleep I get hours at a time; and even when he's awake I'vefixed a place where he can play--and I can draw and plan--just as I usedto--_better_ than I used to!"

"And that is even more to you than loving?" he asked in a quietinquiring voice. 

"It's more because it means _both!_" She leaned to him, glowing, "Don'tyou see? First I had the work and loved it. Then you came--and I lovedyou--better! Then Baby came and I loved him--best? I don't know--you andbaby are all one somehow. "

There was a brief interim and then she drew back, blushing richly. "Now stop--I want to explain. When the housework got to be such anightmare--and I looked forward to a whole lifetime of it and _no_improvement; then I just _ached_ for my work--and couldn't do it! Andthen--why sometimes dear, I just wanted to run away! Actually! From_both_ of you!--you see, I spent five years studying--I was a _real_architect--and it did hurt to see it go. And now--O now I've got It andYou too, darling! _And_ the Baby!--O I'm so happy!"

"Thanks to the Providential Miss Bell, " said he. "If she'll stay I'llpay her anything!"

The months went by. 

Peace, order, comfort, cleanliness and economy reigned in the Pornehousehold, and the lady of the house blossomed into richer beauty andhappiness; her contentment marred only by a sense of flying time. 

Miss Bell fulfilled her carefully specified engagement to the letter;rested her peaceful hour in the morning; walked and rode in theafternoon; familiarized herself with the length and breadth of thetown; and visited continuously among the servants of the neighborhood, establishing a large and friendly acquaintance. If she wore rubbergloves about the rough work, she paid for them herself; and she washedand ironed her simple and pretty costumes herself--with the result thatthey stayed pretty for surprising periods. 

She wrote letters long and loving, to Ross daily; to her mother twice aweek; and by the help of her sister's authority succeeded in maintaininga fairly competent servant in her deserted place. 

"Father was bound he wouldn't, " her sister wrote her; "but I stood rightup to him, I can now I'm married!--and Gerald too--that he'd no right totake it out of mother even if he was mad with you. He made a fuss aboutyour paying for the girl--but that was only showing off--_he_ couldn'tpay for her just now--that's certain. And she does very well--agood strong girl, and quite devoted to mother. " And then she scoldedfuriously about her sister's "working out. "

Diantha knew just how hard it was for her mother. She had faced allsides of the question before deciding. 

"Your mother misses you badly, of course, " Ross wrote her. "I go inas often as I can and cheer her up a bit. It's not just the work--shemisses you. By the way--so do I. " He expressed his views on her newemployment. 

Diantha used to cry over her letters quite often. But she would put themaway, dry her eyes, and work on at the plans she was maturing, with grimcourage. "It's hard on them now, " she would say to herself. "Its hardon me--some. But we'll all be better off because of it, and not onlyus--but everybody!"

Meanwhile the happy and unhappy households of the fair town buzzed incomment and grew green with envy. 

In social circles and church circles and club circles, as also indomestic circles, it was noised abroad that Mrs. Edgar Porne had "solvedthe servant question. " News of this marvel of efficiency and proprietywas discussed in every household, and not only so but in barber-shopsand other downtown meeting places mentioned. Servants gathered it atdinner-tables; and Diantha, much amused, regathered it from her newfriends among the servants. 

"Does she keep on just the same?" asked little Mrs. Ree of Mrs. Porne inan awed whisper. 

"Just the same if not better. I don't even order the meals now, unless Iwant something especial. She keeps a calendar of what we've had to eat, and what belongs to the time of year, prices and things. When I usedto ask her to suggest (one does, you know: it is so hard to think up avariety!), she'd always be ready with an idea, or remind me that we hadhad so and so two days before, till I asked her if she'd like to order, and she said she'd be willing to try, and now I just sit down to thetable without knowing what's going to be there. "

"But I should think that would interfere with your sense of freedom, "said Mrs. Ellen A Dankshire, "A woman should be mistress of her ownhousehold. "

"Why I am! I order whenever I specially want anything. But she reallydoes it more--more scientifically. She has made a study of it. And thebills are very much lower. "

"Well, I think you are the luckiest woman alive!" sighed Mrs. Ree. "Iwish I had her!"

Many a woman wished she had her, and some, calling when they knew Mrs. Porne was out, or descending into their own kitchens of an eveningwhen the strange Miss Bell was visiting "the help, " made flatteringpropositions to her to come to them. She was perfectly polite andagreeable in manner, but refused all blandishments. 

"What are you getting at your present place--if I may ask?" loftilyinquired the great Mrs. Thaddler, ponderous and beaded. 

"There is surely no objection to your asking, madam, " she repliedpolitely. "Mrs. Porne will not mind telling you, I am sure. "

"Hm!" said the patronizing visitor, regarding her through her lorgnette. "Very good. Whatever it is I'll double it. When can you come?"

"My engagement with Mrs. Porne is for six months, " Diantha answered, "and I do not wish to close with anyone else until that time is up. Thank you for your offer just the same. "

"Peculiarly offensive young person!" said Mrs. Thaddler to her husband. "Looks to me like one of these literary imposters. Mrs. Porne willprobably appear in the magazines before long. "

Mr. Thaddler instantly conceived a liking for the young person, "sightunseen. "

Diantha acquired quite a list of offers; places open to her as soonas she was free; at prices from her present seven dollars up to theproposed doubling. 

"Fourteen dollars a week and found!--that's not so bad, " she meditated. "That would mean over $650 clear in a year! It's a wonder to me girlsdon't try it long enough to get a start at something else. With even twoor three hundred ahead--and an outfit--it would be easier to make goodin a store or any other way. Well--I have other fish to fry!"

So she pursued her way; and, with Mrs. Porne's permission--held a sortof girl's club in her spotless kitchen one evening a week during thelast three months of her engagement. It was a "Study and AmusementClub. " She gave them short and interesting lessons in arithmetic, insimple dressmaking, in easy and thorough methods of housework. She gavethem lists of books, referred them to articles in magazines, insidiouslytaught them to use the Public Library. 

They played pleasant games in the second hour, and grew well acquainted. To the eye or ear of any casual visitor it was the simplest and mostnatural affair, calculated to "elevate labor" and to make home happy. 

Diantha studied and observed. They brought her their poor confidences, painfully similar. Always poverty--or they would not be there. Alwaysignorance, or they would not stay there. Then either incompetence in thework, or inability to hold their little earnings--or both; and furtherthe Tale of the Other Side--the exactions and restrictions of theuntrained mistresses they served; cases of withheld wages; cases ofendless requirements; cases of most arbitrary interference with theirreceiving friends and "followers, " or going out; and cases, commonenough to be horrible, of insult they could only escape by leaving. 

"It's no wages, of course--and no recommendation, when you leave likethat--but what else can a girl do, if she's honest?"

So Diantha learned, made friends and laid broad foundations. 

The excellence of her cocking was known to many, thanks to the weekly"entertainments. " No one refused. No one regretted acceptance. Never hadMrs. Porne enjoyed such a sense of social importance. 

All the people she ever knew called on her afresh, and people shenever knew called on her even more freshly. Not that she was directlyresponsible for it. She had not triumphed cruelly over her less happyfriends; nor had she cried aloud on the street corners concerning hergood fortune. It was not her fault, nor, in truth anyone's. But in acommunity where the "servant question" is even more vexed than inthe country at large, where the local product is quite unequal to thedemand, and where distance makes importation an expensive matter, thefact of one woman's having, as it appeared, settled this vexed question, was enough to give her prominence. 

Mrs. Ellen A. Dankshire, President of the Orchardina Home and CultureClub, took up the matter seriously. 

"Now Mrs. Porne, " said she, settling herself vigorously into acomfortable chair, "I just want to talk the matter over with you, with aview to the club. We do not know how long this will last--"

"Don't speak of it!" said Mrs. Porne. 

"--and it behooves us to study the facts while we have them. "

"So much is involved!" said little Mrs. Ree, the CorrespondingSecretary, lifting her pale earnest face with the perplexed fine linesin it. "We are all so truly convinced of the sacredness of the homeduties!"

"Well, what do you want me to do?" asked their hostess. 

"We must have that remarkable young woman address our club!" Mrs. Dankshire announced. "It is one case in a thousand, and must bestudied!"

"So noble of her!" said Mrs. Ree. "You say she was really aschool-teacher? Mrs. Thaddler has put it about that she is one of thesedreadful writing persons--in disguise!"

"O no, " said Mrs. Porne. "She is perfectly straightforward about it, andhad the best of recommendations. She was a teacher, but it didn't agreewith her health, I believe. "

"Perhaps there is a story to it!" Mrs. Ree advanced; but Mrs. Dankshiredisagreed with her flatly. 

"The young woman has a theory, I believe, and she is working it out. Irespect her for it. Now what we want to ask you, Mrs. Porne, is this: doyou think it would make any trouble for you--in the household relations, you know--if we ask her to read a paper to the Club? Of course we do notwish to interfere, but it is a remarkable opportunity--very. You knowthe fine work Miss Lucy Salmon has done on this subject; and MissFrances Kellor. You know how little data we have, and how great, howserious, a question it is daily becoming! Now here is a young woman ofbrains and culture who has apparently grappled with the question; herexample and influence must not be lost! We must hear from her. Thepublic must know of this. "

"Such an ennobling example!" murmured Mrs. Ree. "It might lead numbersof other school-teachers to see the higher side of the home duties!"

"Furthermore, " pursued Mrs. Dankshire, "this has occured to me. Would itnot be well to have our ladies bring with them to the meeting the moreintelligent of their servants; that they might hear and see the--thedignity of household labor--so ably set forth?

"Isn't it--wouldn't that be a--an almost dangerous experiment?" urgedMrs. Ree; her high narrow forehead fairly creped with little wrinkles:"She might--say something, you know, that they might--take advantageof!"

"Nonsense, my dear!" replied Mrs. Dankshire. She was very fond of Mrs. Ree, but had small respect for her judgment. "What could she say? Lookat what she does! And how beautifully--how perfectly--she does it! Iwould wager now--_may_ I try an experiment Mrs. Porne?" and she stoodup, taking out her handkerchief. 

"Certainly, " said Mrs. Porne, "with pleasure! You won't find any!"

Mrs. Dankshire climbed heavily upon a carefully selected chair andpassed her large clean plain-hemmed handkerchief across the top of apicture. 

"I knew it!" she proclaimed proudly from her eminence, and showed thecloth still white. "That, " she continued in ponderous descent, "that isKnowledge, Ability and Conscience!"

"I don't see how she gets the time!" breathed Mrs. Ree, shaking her headin awed amazement, and reflecting that she would not dare trust Mrs. Dankshire's handkerchief on her picture tops. 

"We must have her address the Club, " the president repeated. "It will doworlds of good. Let me see--a paper on--we might say 'On the True Natureof Domestic Industry. ' How does that strike you, Mrs. Ree?"

"Admirable!" said Mrs. Ree. "So strong! so succinct. "

"That certainly covers the subject, " said Mrs. Porne. "Why don't you askher?"

"We will. We have come for that purpose. But we felt it right to ask youabout it first, " said Mrs. Dankshire. 

"Why I have no control over Miss Bell's movements, outside of workinghours, " answered Mrs. Porne. "And I don't see that it would make anydifference to our relations. She is a very self-poised young woman, but extremely easy to get along with. And I'm sure she could write asplendid paper. You'd better ask her, I think. "

"Would you call her in?" asked Mrs. Dankshire, "or shall we go out tothe kitchen?"

"Come right out; I'd like you to see how beautifully she keepseverything. "

The kitchen was as clean as the parlor; and as prettily arranged. MissBell was making her preparation for lunch, and stopped to receive thevisitors with a serenely civil air--as of a country store-keeper. 

"I am very glad to meet you, Miss Bell, very glad indeed, " said Mrs. Dankshire, shaking hands with her warmly. "We have at heard so much ofyour beautiful work here, and we admire your attitude! Now would you bewilling to give a paper--or a talk--to our club, the Home and CultureClub, some Wednesday, on The True Nature of Domestic Industry?"

Mrs. Ree took Miss Bell's hand with something of the air of a Bostonmaiden accosting a saint from Hindoostan. "If you only would!" she said. "I am sure it would shed light on this great subject!"

Miss Bell smiled at them both and looked at Mrs. Porne inquiringly. 

"I should be delighted to have you do it, " said her employer. "I know itwould be very useful. "

"Is there any date set?" asked Miss Bell. 

"Any Wednesday after February, " said Mrs. Dankshire. 

"Well--I will come on the first Wednesday in April. If anything shouldhappen to prevent I will let you know in good season, and if you shouldwish to postpone or alter the program--should think better of theidea--just send me word. I shall not mind in the least. "

They went away quite jubilant, Miss Bell's acceptance was announcedofficially at the next club-meeting, and the Home and Culture Club feltthat it was fulfilling its mission. 

CHAPTER VII. HERESY AND SCHISM. 

 You may talk about religion with a free and open mind, For ten dollars you may criticize a judge; You may discuss in politics the newest thing you find, And open scientific truth to all the deaf and blind, But there's one place where the brain must never budge!

 CHORUS. 

 Oh, the Home is Utterly Perfect! And all its works within! To say a word about it-- To criticize or doubt it-- To seek to mend or move it-- To venture to improve it-- Is The Unpardonable Sin!

 --"Old Song. "

Mr. Porne took an afternoon off and came with his wife to hear theirformer housemaid lecture. As many other men as were able did the same. All the members not bedridden were present, and nearly all the gueststhey had invited. 

So many were the acceptances that a downtown hall had been taken; thefloor was more than filled, and in the gallery sat a block of servantgirls, more gorgeous in array than the ladies below whispering excitedlyamong themselves. The platform recalled a "tournament of roses, " and, sternly important among all that fragrant loveliness, sat Mrs. Dankshirein "the chair" flanked by Miss Torbus, the Recording Secretary, MissMassing, the Treasurer, and Mrs. Ree, tremulous with importance in herofficial position. All these ladies wore an air of high emprise, evenmore intense than that with which they usually essayed their publicduties. They were richly dressed, except Miss Torbus, who came as nearit as she could. 

At the side, and somewhat in the rear of the President, on a chair quitedifferent from "the chair, " discreetly gowned and of a bafflinglyserene demeanor, sat Miss Bell. All eyes were upon her--even some operaglasses. 

"She's a good-looker anyhow, " was one masculine opinion. 

"She's a peach, " was another, "Tell you--the chap that gets her is wellheeled!" said a third. 

The ladies bent their hats toward one another and conferred in flowingwhispers; and in the gallery eager confidences were exchanged, withgiggles. 

On the small table before Mrs. Dankshire, shaded by a magnificent bunchof roses, lay that core and crux of all parliamentry dignity, the gavel;an instrument no self-respecting chairwoman may be without; yet whichshe still approaches with respectful uncertainty. 

In spite of its large size and high social standing, the Orchardina Homeand Culture Club contained some elements of unrest, and when the yearlyelection of officers came round there was always need for careful workin practical politics to keep the reins of government in the hands of"the right people. "

Mrs. Thaddler, conscious of her New York millions, and MadamWeatherstone, conscious of her Philadelphia lineage, with Mrs. JohnstonA. Marrow ("one of the Boston Marrows!" was awesomely whispered of her), were the heads of what might be called "the conservative party" in thissmall parliament; while Miss Miranda L. Eagerson, describing herself as'a journalist, ' who held her place in local society largely by virtue ofthe tacit dread of what she might do if offended--led the more radicalelement. 

Most of the members were quite content to follow the lead of the solidlyestablished ladies of Orchard Avenue; especially as this leadershipconsisted mainly in the pursuance of a masterly inactivity. When wealthand aristocracy combine with that common inertia which we dignify as"conservatism" they exert a powerful influence in the great art ofsitting still. 

Nevertheless there were many alert and conscientious women in this largemembership, and when Miss Eagerson held the floor, and urged upon theclub some active assistance in the march of events, it needed all Mrs. Dankshire's generalship to keep them content with marking time. 

On this auspicious occasion, however, both sides were agreed in interestand approval. Here was a subject appealing to every woman present, andevery man but such few as merely "boarded"; even they had memories andhopes concerning this question. 

Solemnly rose Mrs. Dankshire, her full silks rustling about her, andlet one clear tap of the gavel fall into the sea of soft whispering andguttural murmurs. 

In the silence that followed she uttered the momentous announcements:"The meeting will please come to order, " "We will now hear the readingof the minutes of the last meeting, " and so on most conscientiouslythrough officer's reports and committees reports to "new business. "

Perhaps it is their more frequent practice of religious rites, perhapstheir devout acceptance of social rulings and the dictates of fashion, perhaps the lifelong reiterance of small duties at home, or all thesethings together, which makes women so seriously letter-perfect inparliamentry usage. But these stately ceremonies were ended in course oftime, and Mrs. Dankshire rose again, even more solemn than before, andcame forward majestically. 

"Members---and guests, " she said impressively, "this is an occasionwhich brings pride to the heart of every member of the Home and CultureClub. As our name implies, this Club is formed to serve the interestsof The Home--those interests which stand first, I trust, in every humanheart. "

A telling pause, and the light patter of gloved hands. 

"Its second purpose, " pursued the speaker, with that measured deliverywhich showed that her custom, as one member put it, was to "first writeand then commit, " "is to promote the cause of Culture in this community. Our aim is Culture in the broadest sense, not only in the curricula ofinstitutions of learning, not only in those spreading branches of studyand research which tempts us on from height to height"--("proof ofarboreal ancestry that, " Miss Eagerson confided to a friend, whosechoked giggle attracted condemning eyes)--"but in the more intimatefields of daily experience. "

"Most of us, however widely interested in the higher education, arestill--and find in this our highest honor--wives and mothers. " Thesenovel titles called forth another round of applause. 

"As such, " continued Mrs. Dankshire, "we all recognize thedifficult--the well-nigh insuperable problems of the"--she glanced atthe gallery now paying awed attention--"domestic question. "

"We know how on the one hand our homes yawn unattended"--("I yawnwhile I'm attending--eh?" one gentleman in the rear suggested tohis neighbor)--"while on the other the ranks of mercenary labor areovercrowded. Why is it that while the peace and beauty, the security andcomfort, of a good home, with easy labor and high pay, are open to everyyoung woman, whose circumstances oblige her to toil for her living, sheblindly refuses these true advantages and loses her health and too oftenwhat is far more precious!--in the din and tumult of the factory, or thedangerous exposure of the public counter. "

Madam Weatherstone was much impressed at this point, and beat her blackfan upon her black glove emphatically. Mrs. Thaddler also nodded; whichmeant a good deal from her. The applause was most gratifying to thespeaker, who continued:

"Fortunately for the world there are some women yet who appreciate thetrue values of life. " A faint blush crept slowly up the face of Diantha, but her expression was unchanged. Whoso had met and managed a roomful ofmerciless children can easily face a woman's club. 

"We have with us on this occasion one, as we my say, our equal in birthand breeding, "--Madam Weatherstone here looked painfully shocked as alsodid the Boston Marrow; possibly Mrs. Dankshire, whose parents were Iowafarmers, was not unmindful of this, but she went on smoothly, "andwhose first employment was the honored task of the teacher; who hasdeliberately cast her lot with the domestic worker, and broughther trained intelligence to bear upon the solution of this greatquestion--The True Nature of Domestic Service. In the interests of thisproblem she has consented to address us--I take pleasure in introducingMiss Diantha Bell. "

Diantha rose calmly, stepped forward, bowed to the President andofficers, and to the audience. She stood quietly for a moment, regardingthe faces before her, and produced a typewritten paper. It was clear, short, and to some minds convincing. 

She set forth that the term "domestic industry" did not define certainkinds of labor, but a stage of labor; that all labor was originallydomestic; but that most kinds had now become social, as with weaving andspinning, for instance, for centuries confined to the home and done bywomen only; now done in mills by men and women; that this processof socialization has now been taken from the home almost all themanufactures--as of wine, beer, soap, candles, pickles and otherspecialties, and part of the laundry work; that the other processesof cleaning are also being socialized, as by the vacuum cleaners, theprofessional window-washers, rug cleaners, and similar professionalworkers; and that even in the preparation of food many kinds are nowspecialized, as by the baker and confectioner. That in service itselfwe were now able to hire by the hour or day skilled workers necessarilyabove the level of the "general. "

A growing rustle of disapproval began to make itself felt, whichincreased as she went on to explain how the position of the housemaid isa survival of the ancient status of woman slavery, the family with themale head and the group of servile women. 

"The keynote of all our difficulty in this relation is that we demandcelibacy of our domestic servants, " said Diantha. 

A murmur arose at this statement, but she continued calmly:

"Since it is natural for women to marry, the result is that our domesticservants consist of a constantly changing series of young girls, apprentices, as it were; and the complicated and important duties of thehousehold cannot be fully mastered by such hands. "

The audience disapproved somewhat of this, but more of what followed. She showed (Mrs. Porne nodding her head amusedly), that so far frombeing highly paid and easy labor, house service was exacting andresponsible, involving a high degree of skill as well as moralcharacter, and that it was paid less than ordinary unskilled labor, partof this payment being primitive barter. 

Then, as whispers and sporadic little spurts of angry talk increased, the clear quiet voice went on to state that this last matter, theposition of a strange young girl in our homes, was of itself a source ofmuch of the difficulty of the situation. 

"We speak of giving them the safety and shelter of the home, "--hereDiantha grew solemn;--"So far from sharing our homes, she gives up herown, and has none of ours, but the poorest of our food and a crampedlodging; she has neither the freedom nor the privileges of a home; andas to shelter and safety--the domestic worker, owing to her peculiarlydefenceless position, furnishes a terrible percentage of theunfortunate. "

A shocked silence met this statement. 

"In England shop-workers complain of the old custom of 'sleepingin'--their employers furnishing them with lodging as part payment;this also is a survival of the old apprentice method. With us, only thedomestic servant is held to this antiquated position. "

Regardless of the chill displeasure about her she cheerfully pursued:

"Let us now consider the economic side of the question. 'Domesticeconomy' is a favorite phrase. As a matter of fact our method ofdomestic service is inordinately wasteful. Even where the wife does allthe housework, without pay, we still waste labor to an enormous extent, requiring one whole woman to wait upon each man. If the man hires oneor more servants, the wastes increase. If one hundred men undertakesome common business, they do not divide in two halves, each man havinganother man to serve him--fifty productive laborers, and fifty cooks. Two or three cooks could provide for the whole group; to use fifty is towaste 47 per cent. Of the labor. 

"But our waste of labor is as nothing to our waste of money. For, saytwenty families, we have twenty kitchens with all their furnishings, twenty stoves with all their fuel; twenty cooks with all their wages;in cash and barter combined we pay about ten dollars a week for ourcooks--$200 a week to pay for the cooking for twenty families, for abouta hundred persons!

"Three expert cooks, one at $20 a week and two at $15 would save tothose twenty families $150 a week and give them better food. The costof kitchen furnishings and fuel, could be reduced by nine-tenths; andbeyond all that comes our incredible waste in individual purchasing. What twenty families spend on individual patronage of small retailers, could be reduced by more than half if bought by competent persons inwholesale quantities. Moreover, our whole food supply would rise inquality as well as lower in price if it was bought by experts. 

"To what does all this lead?" asked Diantha pleasantly. 

Nobody said anything, but the visible attitude of the house seemed tosay that it led straight to perdition. 

"The solution for which so many are looking is no new scheme of anysort; and in particular it is not that oft repeated fore-doomed failurecalled 'co-operative housekeeping'. "

At this a wave of relief spread perceptibly. The irritation roused bythose preposterous figures and accusations was somewhat allayed. Hopewas relit in darkened countenances. 

"The inefficiency of a dozen tottering households is not removed bycombining them, " said Diantha. This was of dubious import. "Why shouldwe expect a group of families to "keep house" expertly and economicallytogether, when they are driven into companionship by the fact that noneof them can do it alone. "

Again an uncertain reception. 

"Every family is a distinct unit, " the girl continued. "Its needs areseparate and should be met separately. The separate house and gardenshould belong to each family, the freedom and group privacy of thecommon milkman, by a common baker, by a common cooking and a commoncleaning establishment. We are rapidly approaching an improved system ofliving in which the private home will no more want a cookshop on thepremises than a blacksmith's shop or soap-factory. The necessary work ofthe kitchenless house will be done by the hour, with skilled labor; andwe shall order our food cooked instead of raw. This will give to theemployees a respectable well-paid profession, with their own homes andfamilies; and to the employers a saving of about two-thirds of theexpense of living, as well as an end of all our difficulties with theservant question. That is the way to elevate--to enoble domesticservice. It must cease to be domestic service--and become worldservice. "

Suddenly and quietly she sat down. 

Miss Eagerson was on her feet. So were others. 

"Madam President! Madam President!" resounded from several points atonce. Madam Weatherstone--Mrs. Thaddler--no! yes--they really were bothon their feet. Applause was going on--irregularly--soon dropped. Only, from the group in the gallery it was whole-hearted and consistent. 

Mrs. Dankshire, who had been growing red and redder as the paperadvanced, who had conferred in alarmed whispers with Mrs. Ree, and MissMassing, who had even been seen to extend her hand to the gavel andfinger it threateningly, now rose, somewhat precipitately, and cameforward. 

"Order, please! You will please keep order. You have heard the--we willnow--the meeting is now open for discussion, Mrs. Thaddler!" And she satdown. She meant to have said Madam Weatherstone, by Mrs. Thaddler wasmore aggressive. 

"I wish to say, " said that much beaded lady in a loud voice, "that Iwas against this--unfortunate experiment--from the first. And I trust itwill never be repeated!" She sat down. 

Two tight little dimples flickered for an instant about the corners ofDiantha's mouth. 

"Madam Weatherstone?" said the President, placatingly. 

Madam Weatherstone arose, rather sulkily, and looked about her. Anagitated assembly met her eye, buzzing universally each to each. 

"Order!" said Mrs. Dankshire, "ORDER, please!" and rapped three timeswith the gavel. 

"I have attended many meetings, in many clubs, in many states, " saidMadam Weatherstone, "and have heard much that was foolish, and somethings that were dangerous. But I will say that never in the course ofall my experience have I heard anything so foolish and so dangerous, asthis. I trust that the--doubtless well meant--attempt to throw light onthis subject--from the wrong quarter--has been a lesson to us all. Noclub could survive more than one such lamentable mistake!" And she satdown, gathering her large satin wrap about her like a retiring Caesar. 

"Madam President!" broke forth Miss Eagerson. "I was up first--and havebeen standing ever since--"

"One moment, Miss Eagerson, " said Mrs. Dankshire superbly, "The Rev. Dr. Eltwood. "

If Mrs. Dankshire supposed she was still further supporting the cause ofcondemnation she made a painful mistake. The cloth and the fine bearingof the young clergyman deceived her; and she forgot that he was said tobe "advanced" and was new to the place. 

"Will you come to the platform, Dr. Eltwood?"

Dr. Eltwood came to the platform with the easy air of one to whomplatforms belonged by right. 

"Ladies, " he began in tones of cordial good will, "both employer andemployed!--and gentlemen--whom I am delighted to see here to-day! I amgrateful for the opportunity so graciously extended to me"--he bowedsix feet of black broadcloth toward Mrs. Dankshire--"by your honoredPresident. 

"And I am grateful for the opportunity previously enjoyed, of listeningto the most rational, practical, wise, true and hopeful words I haveever heard on this subject. I trust there will be enough open-mindedwomen--and men--in Orchardina to make possible among us that higherbusiness development of a great art which has been so convincingly laidbefore us. This club is deserving of all thanks from the communityfor extending to so many the privilege of listening to our valuedfellow-citizen--Miss Bell. "

He bowed again--to Miss Bell--and to Mrs. Dankshire, and resumed hisseat, Miss Eagerson taking advantage of the dazed pause to occupy theplatform herself. 

"Mr. Eltwood is right!" she said. "Miss Bell is right! This is the truepresentation of the subject, 'by one who knows. ' Miss Bell haspricked our pretty bubble so thoroughly that we don't know wherewe're standing--but she knows! Housework is a business--like any otherbusiness--I've always said so, and it's got to be done in a businessway. Now I for one--" but Miss Eagerson was rapped down by thePresidential gavel; as Mrs. Thaddler, portentous and severe, stalkedforward. 

"It is not my habit to make public speeches, " she began, "nor my desire;but this is a time when prompt and decisive action needs to be taken. This Club cannot afford to countenance any such farrago of mischievousnonsense as we have heard to-day. I move you, Madam President, thata resolution of condemnation be passed at once; and the meeting thendismissed!"

She stalked back again, while Mrs. Marrow of Boston, in clear, coldtones seconded the motion. 

But another voice was heard--for the first time in that assembly--Mrs. Weatherstone, the pretty, delicate widower daughter-in-law of MadamWeatherstone, was on her feet with "Madam President! I wish to speak tothis motion. "

"Won't you come to the platform, Mrs. Weatherstone?" asked Mrs. Dankshire graciously, and the little lady came, visibly trembling, butholding her head high. 

All sat silent, all expected--what was not forthcoming. 

"I wish to protest, as a member of the Club, and as a woman, against thegross discourtesy which has been offered to the guest and speaker of theday. In answer to our invitation Miss Bell has given us a scholarly andinteresting paper, and I move that we extend her a vote of thanks. "

"I second the motion, " came from all quarters. 

"There is another motion before the house, " from others. 

Cries of "Madam President" arose everywhere, many speakers were on theirfeet. Mrs. Dankshire tapped frantically with the little gavel, but MissEagerson, by sheer vocal power, took and held the floor. 

"I move that we take a vote on this question, " she cried in piercingtones. "Let every woman who knows enough to appreciate Miss Bell'spaper--and has any sense of decency--stand up!"

Quite a large proportion of the audience stood up--very informally. Those who did not, did not mean to acknowledge lack of intelligence andsense of decency, but to express emphatic disapproval of Miss Eagerson, Miss Bell and their views. 

"I move you, Madam President, " cried Mrs. Thaddler, at the top of hervoice, "that every member who is guilty of such grossly unparlimentaryconduct be hereby dropped from this Club!"

"We hereby resign!" cried Miss Eagerson. "_We_ drop _you!_ We'll havea New Woman's Club in Orchardina with some warmth in its heart and somebrains in its head--even if it hasn't as much money in its pocket!"

Amid stern rappings, hissings, cries of "Order--order, " and frantic"Motions to adjourn" the meeting broke up; the club elements dissolvingand reforming into two bodies as by some swift chemical reaction. 

Great was the rejoicing of the daily press; some amusement was felt, though courteously suppressed by the men present, and by many notpresent, when they heard of it. 

Some ladies were so shocked and grieved as to withdraw from club-lifealtogether. Others, in stern dignity, upheld the shaken standards ofHome and Culture; while the most conspicuous outcome of it all was theimmediate formation of the New Woman's Club of Orchardina. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Behind the straight purple backs and smooth purple legs on the boxbefore them, Madam Weatherstone and Mrs. Weatherstone rolled homesilently, a silence of thunderous portent. Another purple person openedthe door for them, and when Madam Weatherstone said, "We will have teaon the terrace, " it was brought them by a fourth. 

"I was astonished at your attitude, Viva, " began the old lady, atlength. "Of course it was Mrs. Dankshire's fault in the first place, butto encourage that, --outrageous person! How could you do it!"

Young Mrs. Weatherstone emptied her exquisite cup and set it down. 

"A sudden access of courage, I suppose, " she said. "I was astonished atmyself. "

"I wholly disagree with you!" replied her mother-in-law. "Never in mylife have I heard such nonsense. Talk like that would be dangerous, ifit were not absurd! It would destroy the home! It would strike at theroots of the family. "

Viva eyed her quietly, trying to bear in mind the weight of a tradition, the habits of a lifetime, the effect of long years of uninterruptedworship of household gods. 

"It doesn't seem so to me, " she said slowly, "I was much interested andimpressed. She is evidently a young woman of knowledge and experience, and put her case well. It has quite waked me up. "

"It has quite upset you!" was the reply. "You'll be ill after this, I amsure. Hadn't you better go and lie down now? I'll have some dinner sentto you. "

"Thank you, " said Viva, rising and walking to the edge of the broadterrace. "You are very kind. No. I do not wish to lie down. I haven'tfelt so thoroughly awake in--" she drew a pink cluster of oleanderagainst her cheek and thought a moment--"in several years. " There was anew look about her certainly. 

"Nervous excitement, " her mother-in-law replied. "You're not likeyourself at all to-night. You'll certainly be ill to-morrow!"

Viva turned at this and again astonished the old lady by serenelykissing her. "Not at all!" she said gaily. "I'm going to be wellto-morrow. You will see!"

She went to her room, drew a chair to the wide west window with the faroff view and sat herself down to think. Diantha's assured poise, her clear reasoning, her courage, her common sense; and something oftenderness and consecration she discerned also, had touched deep chordsin this woman's nature. It was like the sound of far doors opening, windows thrown up, the jingle of bridles and clatter of hoofs, keenbugle notes. A sense of hope, of power, of new enthusiasm, rose in her. 

Orchardina Society, eagerly observing "young Mrs. Weatherstone" from herfirst appearance, had always classified her as "delicate. " Beside thefirm features and high color of the matron-in-office, this pale quietslender woman looked like a meek and transient visitor. But her whiteforehead was broad under its soft-hanging eaves of hair, and her chin, though lacking in prognathous prominence or bull-dog breadth, had acertain depth which gave hope to the physiognomist. 

She was strangely roused and stirred by the afternoon's events. "I'mlike that man in 'Phantastes', " she thought contemptuously, "who stayedso long in that dungeon because it didn't occur to him to open the door!Why don't I--?" she rose and walked slowly up and down, her hands behindher. "I will!" she said at last. 

Then she dressed for dinner, revolving in her mind certain suspicionslong suppressed, but now flaming out in clear conviction in the lightof Diantha's words. "Sleeping in, indeed!" she murmured to herself. "Andnobody doing anything!"

She looked herself in the eye in the long mirror. Her gown was animpressive one, her hair coiled high, a gold band ringed it like acrown. A clear red lit her checks. 

She rang. Little Ilda, the newest maid, appeared, gazing at her in shyadmiration. Mrs. Weatherstone looked at her with new eyes. "Have youbeen here long?" she asked. "What is your name?"

"No, ma'am, " said the child--she was scarce more. "Only a week and twodays. My name is Ilda. "

"Who engaged you?"

"Mrs. Halsey, ma'am. "

"Ah, " said Mrs. Weatherstone, musing to herself, "and I engaged Mrs. Halsey!" "Do you like it here?" she continued kindly. 

"Oh yes, ma'am!" said Ilda. "That is--" she stopped, blushed, andcontinued bravely. "I like to work for you, ma'am. "

"Thank you, Ilda. Will you ask Mrs. Halsey to come to me--at once, please. "

Ilda went, more impressed than ever with the desirability of her newplace, and mistress. 

As she was about to pass the door of Mr. Matthew Weatherstone, thatyoung gentleman stepped out and intercepted her. "Whither away so fast, my dear?" he amiably inquired. 

"Please let one pass, sir! I'm on an errand. Please, sir?"

"You must give me a kiss first!" said he--and since there seemed noescape and she was in haste, she submitted. He took six--and she ranaway half crying. 

Mrs. Halsey, little accustomed to take orders from her real mistress, and resting comfortably in her room, had half a mind to send an excuse. 

"I'm not dressed, " she said to the maid. 

"Well she is!" replied Ilda, "dressed splendid. She said 'at once, please. '"

"A pretty time o' day!" said the housekeeper with some asperity, hastilybuttoning her gown; and she presently appeared, somewhat heated, beforeMrs. Weatherstone. 

That lady was sitting, cool and gracious, her long ivory paper-cutterbetween the pages of a new magazine. 

"In how short a time could you pack, Mrs. Halsey?" she inquired. 

"Pack, ma'am? I'm not accustomed to doing packing. I'll send one of themaids. Is it your things, ma'am?"

"No, " said Mrs. Weatherstone. "It is yours I refer to. I wish you topack your things and leave the house--in an hour. One of the maids canhelp you, if necessary. Anything you cannot take can be sent after you. Here is a check for the following month's wages. "

Mrs. Halsey was nearly a head taller than her employer, a stout showywoman, handsome enough, red-lipped, and with a moist and crafty eye. This was so sudden a misadventure that she forgot her usual caution. "You've no right to turn me off in a minute like this!" she burst forth. "I'll leave it to Madam Weatherstone!"

"If you will look at the terms on which I engaged you, Mrs. Halsey, youwill find that a month's warning, or a month's wages, was specified. Here are the wages--as to the warning, that has been given for somemonths past!"

"By whom, Ma'am?"

"By yourself, Mrs. Halsey--I think you understand me. Oscar will takeyour things as soon as they are ready. "

Mrs. Halsey met her steady eye a moment--saw more than she cared toface--and left the room. 

She took care, however, to carry some letters to Madam Weatherstone, andmeekly announced her discharge; also, by some coincidence, she met Mr. Matthew in the hall upstairs, and weepingly confided her grievance tohim, meeting immediate consolation, both sentimental and practical. 

When hurried servants were sent to find their young mistress theyreported that she must have gone out, and in truth she had; out on herown roof, where she sat quite still, though shivering a little now andthen from the new excitement, until dinner time. 

This meal, in the mind of Madam Weatherstone, was the crowning factorof daily life; and, on state occasions, of social life. In her cosmogonythe central sun was a round mahogany table; all other details ofhousekeeping revolved about it in varying orbits. To serve an endlessseries of dignified delicious meals, notably dinners, was, in her eyes, the chief end of woman; the most high purpose of the home. 

Therefore, though angry and astounded, she appeared promptly when themeal was announced; and when her daughter-in-law, serene and royallyattired, took her place as usual, no emotion was allowed to appearbefore the purple footman who attended. 

"I understood you were out, Viva, " she said politely. 

"I was, " replied Viva, with equal decorum. "It is charming outside atthis time in the evening--don't you think so?"

Young Matthew was gloomy and irritable throughout the length and breadthof the meal; and when they were left with their coffee in the drawingroom, he broke out, "What's this I hear about Mrs. Halsey being firedwithout notice?"

"That is what I wish to know, Viva, " said the grandmother. "The poorwoman is greatly distressed. Is there not some mistake?"

"It's a damn shame, " said Matthew. 

The younger lady glanced from one to the other, and wondered to see howlittle she minded it. "The door was there all the time!" she thoughtto herself, as she looked her stepson in the eye and said, "Hardlydrawing-room language, Matthew. Your grandmother is present!"

He stared at her in dumb amazement, so she went on, "No, there is nomistake at all. I discharged Mrs. Halsey about an hour before dinner. The terms of the engagement were a month's warning or a month's wages. Igave her the wages. "

"But! but!" Madam Weatherstone was genuinely confused by this suddeninexplicable, yet perfectly polite piece of what she still felt to be inthe nature of 'interference' and 'presumption. ' "I have had no fault tofind with her. "

"I have, you see, " said her daughter-in-law smiling. "I found herunsatisfactory and shall replace her with something better presently. How about a little music, Matthew? Won't you start the victrolla?"

Matthew wouldn't. He was going out; went out with the word. MadamWeatherstone didn't wish to hear it--had a headache--must go to herroom--went to her room forthwith. There was a tension in the atmospherethat would have wrung tears from Viva Weatherstone a week ago, yes, twenty-four hours ago. 

As it was she rose to her feet, stretching herself to her full height, and walked the length of the great empty room. She even laughed alittle. "It's open!" said she, and ordered the car. While waiting for itshe chatted with Mrs. Porne awhile over the all-convenient telephone. 

*****

Diantha sat at her window, watching the big soft, brilliant moon behindthe eucalyptus trees. After the close of the strenuous meeting, she hadwithdrawn from the crowd of excited women anxious to shake her handand engage her on the spot, had asked time to consider a number of goodopportunities offered, and had survived the cold and angry glances ofthe now smaller but far more united Home and Culture Club. She declinedto talk to the reporters, and took refuge first in an open car. This proved very unsatisfactory, owing to her sudden prominence. Twopersistent newspaper men swung themselves upon the car also and insistedon addressing her. 

"Excuse me, gentlemen, " she said, "I am not acquainted with you. "

They eagerly produced their cards--and said they were "newspaper men. "

"I see, " said Diantha, "But you are still men? And gentlemen, I suppose?I am a woman, and I do not wish to talk with you. "

"Miss Bell Declines to Be Interviewed, " wrote the reporters, andspent themselves on her personal appearance, being favorably impressedthereby. 

But Miss Bell got off at the next corner and took a short cut to thehouse where she had rented a room. Reporters were waiting there, twobeing women. 

Diantha politely but firmly declined to see them and started for thestairs; but they merely stood in front of her and asked questions. Thegirl's blood surged to her cheeks; she smiled grimly, kept absolutesilence, brushed through them and went swiftly to her room, locking thedoor after her. 

The reporters described her appearance--unfavorably this time; andthey described the house--also unfavorably. They said that "A group ofadoring-eyed young men stood about the doorway as the flushed heroine ofthe afternoon made her brusque entrance. " These adorers consisted ofthe landlady's Johnny, aged thirteen, and two satellites of his, stillyounger. They _did_ look at Diantha admiringly; and she _was_ a littlehurried in her entrance--truth must be maintained. 

Too irritated and tired to go out for dinner, she ate an orange or two, lay down awhile, and then eased her mind by writing a long letter toRoss and telling him all about it. That is, she told him most of it, all the pleasant things, all the funny things; leaving out about thereporters, because she was too angry to be just, she told herself. Shewrote and wrote, becoming peaceful as the quiet moments passed, anda sense grew upon her of the strong, lasting love that was waiting sopatiently. 

"Dearest, " her swift pen flew along, "I really feel much encouraged. An impression has been made. One or two men spoke to me afterward; theyoung minister, who said such nice things; and one older man, who lookedprosperous and reliable. 'When you begin any such business as you haveoutlined, you may count on me, Miss Bell, ' he said, and gave me hiscard. He's a lawyer--P. L. Wiscomb; nice man, I should think. Anotherbig, sheepish-looking man said, 'And me, Miss Bell. ' His name isThaddler; his wife is very disagreeable. Some of the women are favorablyimpressed, but the old-fashioned kind--my! 'If hate killed men, BrotherLawrence!'--but it don't. "

She wrote herself into a good humor, and dwelt at considerable lengthon the pleasant episode of the minister and young Mrs. Weatherstone'sremarks. "I liked her, " she wrote. "She's a nice woman--even if she isrich. "

There was a knock at her door. "Lady to see you, Miss. "

"I cannot see anyone, " said Diantha; "you must excuse me. "

"Beg pardon, Miss, but it's not a reporter; it's--. " The landladystretched her lean neck around the door edge and whispered hoarsely, "It's young Mrs. Weatherstone!"

Diantha rose to her feet, a little bewildered. "I'll be right down, " shesaid. But a voice broke in from the hall, "I beg your pardon, Miss Bell, but I took the liberty of coming up; may I come in?"

She came in, and the landlady perforce went out. Mrs. Weatherstone heldDiantha's hand warmly, and looked into her eyes. "I was a schoolmate ofEllen Porne, " she told the girl. "We are dear friends still; and so Ifeel that I know you better than you think. You have done beautiful workfor Mrs. Porne; now I want you to do to it for me. I need you. "

"Won't you sit down?" said Diantha. 

"You, too, " said Mrs. Weatherstone. "Now I want you to come to me--rightaway. You have done me so much good already. I was just a New Englandbred school teacher myself at first, so we're even that far. Then youtook a step up--and I took a step down. "

Diantha was a little slow in understanding the quick fervor of this newfriend; a trifle suspicious, even; being a cautious soul, and somewhatoverstrung, perhaps. Her visitor, bright-eyed and eager, went on. "Igave up school teaching and married a fortune. You have given it up todo a more needed work. I think you are wonderful. Now, I know thisseems queer to you, but I want to tell you about it. I feel sure you'llunderstand. At home, Madam Weatherstone has had everything in charge foryears and years, and I've been too lazy or too weak, or too indifferent, to do anything. I didn't care, somehow. All the machinery of living, and no _living_--no good of it all! Yet there didn't seem to beanything else to do. Now you have waked me all up--your paper thisafternoon--what Mr. Eltwood said--the way those poor, dull, blind womentook it. And yet I was just as dull and blind myself! Well, I begin tosee things now. I can't tell you all at once what a difference it hasmade; but I have a very definite proposition to make to you. Will youcome and be my housekeeper, now--right away--at a hundred dollars amonth?"

Diantha opened her eyes wide and looked at the eager lady as if shesuspected her nervous balance. 

"The other one got a thousand a year--you are worth more. Now, don'tdecline, please. Let me tell you about it. I can see that you have plansahead, for this business; but it can't hurt you much to put them offsix months, say. Meantime, you could be practicing. Our place at SantaUlrica is almost as big as this one; there are lots of servants anda great, weary maze of accounts to be kept, and it wouldn't be badpractice for you--now, would it?"

Diantha's troubled eyes lit up. "No--you are right there, " she said. "IfI could do it!"

"You'll have to do just that sort of thing when you are running yourbusiness, won't you?" her visitor went on. "And the summer's not a goodtime to start a thing like that, is it?"

Diantha meditated. "No, I wasn't going to. I was going to startsomewhere--take a cottage, a dozen girls or so--and furnish labor by theday to the other cottages. "

"Well, you might be able to run that on the side, " said Mrs. Weatherstone. "And you could train my girls, get in new ones if youlike; it doesn't seem to me it would conflict. But to speak to you quitefrankly, Miss Bell, I want you in the house for my own sake. You do megood. "

They discussed the matter for some time, Diantha objecting mainly tothe suddenness of it all. "I'm a slow thinker, " she said, "and this isso--so attractive that I'm suspicious of it. I had the other thing allplanned--the girls practically engaged. "

"Where were you thinking of going?" asked Mrs. Weatherstone. 

"To Santa Ulrica. "

"Exactly! Well, you shall have your cottage and our girls and give thempart time. Or--how many have you arranged with?"

"Only six have made definite engagements yet. "

"What kind?"

"Two laundresses, a cook and three second maids; all good ones. "

"Excellent! Now, I tell you what to do. I will engage all those girls. I'm making a change at the house, for various reasons. You bring them tome as soon as you like; but you I want at once. I wish you'd come homewith me to-night! Why don't you?"

Diantha's scanty baggage was all in sight. She looked around for anexcuse. Mrs. Weatherstone stood up laughing. 

"Put the new address in the letter, " she said, mischievously, "and comealong!"

*****

And the purple chauffeur, his disapproving back ineffectual in thedarkness, rolled them home. 

CHAPTER IX. "SLEEPING IN. "

 Men have marched in armies, fleets have borne them, Left their homes new countries to subdue; Young men seeking fortune wide have wandered-- We have something new. 

 Armies of young maidens cross our oceans; Leave their mother's love, their father's care; Maidens, young and helpless, widely wander, Burdens new to bear. 

 Strange the land and language, laws and customs; Ignorant and all alone they come; Maidens young and helpless, serving strangers, Thus we keep the Home. 

 When on earth was safety for young maidens Far from mother's love and father's care? We preserve The Home, and call it sacred-- Burdens new they bear. 

The sun had gone down on Madam Weatherstone's wrath, and risen to findit unabated. With condensed disapprobation written on every well-cutfeature, she came to the coldly gleaming breakfast table. 

That Mrs. Halsey was undoubtedly gone, she had to admit; yet so farfailed to find the exact words of reproof for a woman of independentmeans discharging her own housekeeper when it pleased her. 

Young Mathew unexpectedly appeared at breakfast, perhaps in anticipationof a sort of Roman holiday in which his usually late and apologeticstepmother would furnish the amusement. They were both surprised to findher there before them, looking uncommonly fresh in crisp, sheer white, with deep-toned violets in her belt. 

She ate with every appearance of enjoyment, chatting amiably about thelovely morning--the flowers, the garden and the gardeners; her effortsill seconded, however. 

"Shall I attend to the orders this morning?" asked Madam Weatherstonewith an air of noble patience. 

"O no, thank you!" replied Viva. "I have engaged a new housekeeper. "

"A new housekeeper! When?" The old lady was shaken by this inconceivablepromptness. 

"Last night, " said her daughter-in-law, looking calmly across the table, her color rising a little. 

"And when is she coming, if I may ask?"

"She has come. I have been with her an hour already this morning. "

Young Mathew smiled. This was amusing, though not what he had expected. "How extremely alert and businesslike!" he said lazily. "It's becomingto you--to get up early!"

"You can't have got much of a person--at a minute's notice, " said hisgrandmother. "Or perhaps you have been planning this for some time?"

"No, " said Viva. "I have wanted to get rid of Mrs. Halsey for some time, but the new one I found yesterday. "

"What's her name?" inquired Mathew. 

"Bell--Miss Diantha Bell, " she answered, looking as calm as ifannouncing the day of the week, but inwardly dreading the resultsomewhat. Like most of such terrors it was overestimated. 

There was a little pause--rather an intense little pause; andthen--"Isn't that the girl who set 'em all by the ears yesterday?"asked the young man, pointing to the morning paper. "They say she's agood-looker. "

Madam Weatherstone rose from the table in some agitation. "I must sayI am very sorry, Viva, that you should have been so--precipitate! Thisyoung woman cannot be competent to manage a house like this--to saynothing of her scandalous ideas. Mrs. Halsey was--to my mind--perfectlysatisfactory. I shall miss her very much. " She swept out with anunanswerable air. 

"So shall I, " muttered Mat, under his breath, as he strolled after her;"unless the new one's equally amiable. "

Viva Weatherstone watched them go, and stood awhile looking after thewell-built, well-dressed, well-mannered but far from well-behaved youngman. 

"I don't _know_, " she said to herself, "but I do feel--think--imagine--agood deal. I'm sure I hope not! Anyway--it's new life to have that girlin the house. "

That girl had undertaken what she described to Ross as "a large order--avery large order. "

"It's the hardest thing I ever undertook, " she wrote him, "but I thinkI can do it; and it will be a tremendous help. Mrs. Weatherstone's abrick--a perfect brick! She seems to have been very unhappy--for everso long--and to have submitted to her domineering old mother-in-law justbecause she didn't care enough to resist. Now she's got waked up allof a sudden--she says it was my paper at the club--more likely my awfulexample, I think! and she fired her old housekeeper--I don't know whatfor--and rushed me in. 

"So here I am. The salary is good, the work is excellent training, and Iguess I can hold the place. But the old lady is a terror, and the youngman--how you would despise that Johnny!"

The home letters she now received were rather amusing. Ross, sternlypatient, saw little difference in her position. "I hope you will enjoyyour new work, " he wrote, "but personally I should prefer that you didnot--so you might give it up and come home sooner. I miss you as youcan well imagine. Even when you were here life was hard enough--butnow!!!!!!

"I had a half offer for the store the other day, but it fell through. IfI could sell that incubus and put the money into a ranch--fruit, hens, anything--then we could all live on it; more cheaply, I think; and Icould find time for some research work I have in mind. You remember thatguinea-pig experiment I want so to try?"

Diantha remembered and smiled sadly. She was not much interested inguinea-pigs and their potential capacities, but she was interested inher lover and his happiness. "Ranch, " she said thoughtfully; "that's nota bad idea. "

Her mother wrote the same patient loving letters, perfunctorily hopeful. Her father wrote none--"A woman's business--this letter-writin', " healways held; and George, after one scornful upbraiding, had "washed hishands of her" with some sense of relief. He didn't like to write letterseither. 

But Susie kept up a lively correspondence. She was attached to hersister, as to all her immediate relatives and surroundings; and whileshe utterly disapproved of Diantha's undertaking, a sense of sisterlyduty, to say nothing of affection, prompted her to many letters. It didnot, however, always make these agreeable reading. 

"Mother's pretty well, and the girl she's got now does nicely--thatfirst one turned out to be a failure. Father's as cranky as ever. We areall well here and the baby (this was a brand new baby Diantha had notseen) is just a Darling! You ought to be here, you unnatural Aunt!Gerald doesn't ever speak of you--but I do just the same. You hear fromthe Wardens, of course. Mrs. Warden's got neuralgia or something; keepsthem all busy. They are much excited over this new place of yours--youought to hear them go on! It appears that Madam Weatherstone is aconnection of theirs--one of the F. F. V's, I guess, and they thinkshe's something wonderful. And to have _you_ working _there!_--well, you can just see how they'd feel; and I don't blame them. It's nouse arguing with you--but I should think you'd have enough of thisdisgraceful foolishness by this time and come home!"

Diantha tried to be very philosophic over her home letters; but theywere far from stimulating. "It's no use arguing with poor Susie!" shedecided. "Susie thinks the sun rises and sets between kitchen, nurseryand parlor!

"Mother can't see the good of it yet, but she will later--Mother's allright. 

"I'm awfully sorry the Wardens feel so--and make Ross unhappy--but ofcourse I knew they would. It can't be helped. It's just a question oftime and work. "

And she went to work. 

*****

Mrs. Porne called on her friend most promptly, with a natural eagernessand curiosity. 

"How does it work? Do you like her as much as you thought? Do tell meabout it, Viva. You look like another woman already!"

"I certainly feel like one, " Viva answered. "I've seen slaves inhousework, and I've seen what we fondly call 'Queens' in housework; butI never saw brains in it before. "

Mrs. Porne sighed. "Isn't it just wonderful--the way she does things!Dear me! We do miss her! She trained that Swede for us--and she doespretty well--but not like 'Miss Bell'! I wish there were a hundred ofher!"

"If there were a hundred thousand she wouldn't go round!" answered Mrs. Weatherstone. "How selfish we are! _That_ is the kind of woman we allwant in our homes--and fuss because we can't have them. "

"Edgar says he quite agrees with her views, " Mrs. Porne went on. "Skilled labor by the day--food sent in--. He says if she cooked ithe wouldn't care if it came all the way from Alaska! She certainly cancook! I wish she'd set up her business--the sooner the better. "

Mrs. Weatherstone nodded her head firmly. "She will. She's planning. This was really an interruption--her coming here, but I think it willbe a help--she's not had experience in large management before, butshe takes hold splendidly. She's found a dozen 'leaks' in our householdalready. "

"Mrs. Thaddler's simply furious, I hear, " said the visitor. "Mrs. Reewas in this morning and told me all about it. Poor Mrs. Ree! The home ischurch and state to her; that paper of Miss Bell's she regards as simpleblasphemy. "

They both laughed as that stormy meeting rose before them. 

"I was so proud of you, Viva, standing up for her as you did. How didyou ever dare?"

"Why I got my courage from the girl herself. She was--superb! Talkof blasphemy! Why I've committed _lese majeste_ and regicide and theUnpardonable Sin since that meeting!" And she told her friend of herbrief passage at arms with Mrs. Halsey. "I never liked the woman, " shecontinued; "and some of the things Miss Bell said set me thinking. Idon't believe we half know what's going on in our houses. "

"Well, Mrs. Thaddler's so outraged by 'this scandalous attack uponthe sanctities of the home' that she's going about saying all sorts ofthings about Miss Bell. O look--I do believe that's her car!"

Even as they spoke a toneless voice announced, "Mr. And Mrs. Thaddler, "and Madam Weatherstone presently appeared to greet these visitors. 

"I think you are trying a dangerous experiment!" said Mrs. Thaddler toher young hostess. "A very dangerous experiment! Bringing that youngiconoclast into your home!"

Mr. Thaddler, stout and sulky, sat as far away as he could and talkedto Mrs. Porne. "I'd like to try that same experiment myself, " said he toher. "You tried it some time, I understand?"

"Indeed we did--and would still if we had the chance, " she replied. "Wethink her a very exceptional young woman. "

Mr. Thaddler chuckled. "She is that!" he agreed. "Gad! How she did setthings humming! They're humming yet--at our house!"

He glanced rather rancorously at his wife, and Mrs. Porne wished, as sheoften had before, that Mr. Thaddler wore more clothing over his domesticafflictions. 

"Scandalous!" Mrs. Thaddler was saying to Madam Weatherstone. "Simply scandalous! Never in my life did I hear such absurd--suchoutrageous--charges against the sanctities of the home!"

"There you have it!" said Mr. Thaddler, under his breath. "Sanctity ofthe fiddlesticks! There was a lot of truth in what that girl said!"Then he looked rather sheepish and flushed a little--which was needless;easing his collar with a fat finger. 

Madam Weatherstone and Mrs. Thaddler were at one on this subject; butfound it hard to agree even so, no love being lost between them; andthe former gave evidence of more satisfaction than distress at this"dangerous experiment" in the house of her friends. Viva sat silent, butwith a look of watchful intelligence that delighted Mrs. Porne. 

"It has done her good already, " she said to herself. "Bless that girl!"

Mr. Thaddler went home disappointed in the real object of his call--hehad hoped to see the Dangerous Experiment again. But his wife was wellpleased. 

"They will rue it!" she announced. "Madam Weatherstone is ashamed of herdaughter-in-law--I can see that! _She_ looks cool enough. I don't knowwhat's got into her!"

"Some of that young woman's good cooking, " her husband suggested. 

"That young woman is not there as cook!" she replied tartly. "What she_is_ there for we shall see later! Mark my words!"

Mr. Thaddler chuckled softly. "I'll mark 'em!" he said. 

Diantha had her hands full. Needless to say her sudden entrance wasresented by the corps of servants accustomed to the old regime. She hadthe keys; she explored, studied, inventoried, examined the accounts, worked out careful tables and estimates. "I wish Mother were here!"she said to herself. "She's a regular genius for accounts. I _can_ doit--but it's no joke. "

She brought the results to her employer at the end of the week. "Thisis tentative, " she said, "and I've allowed margins because I'm new to abusiness of this size. But here's what this house ought to cost you--atthe outside, and here's what it does cost you now. "

Mrs. Weatherstone was impressed. "Aren't you a little--spectacular?" shesuggested. 

Diantha went over it carefully; the number of rooms, the number ofservants, the hours of labor, the amount of food and other suppliesrequired. 

"This is only preparatory, of course, " she said. "I'll have to check itoff each month. If I may do the ordering and keep all the accounts I canshow you exactly in a month, or two at most. "

"How about the servants?" asked Mrs. Weatherstone. 

There was much to say here, questions of competence, of impertinence, ofpersonal excellence with "incompatibility of temper. " Diantha was givena free hand, with full liberty to experiment, and met the opportunitywith her usual energy. 

She soon discharged the unsatisfactory ones, and substituted the girlsshe had selected for her summer's experiment, gradually adding others, till the household was fairly harmonious, and far more efficient andeconomical. A few changes were made among the men also. 

By the time the family moved down to Santa Ulrica, there was quite a newspirit in the household. Mrs. Weatherstone fully approved of the Girls'Club Diantha had started at Mrs. Porne's; and it went on merrily in thelarger quarters of the great "cottage" on the cliff. 

"I'm very glad I came to you, Mrs. Weatherstone, " said the girl. "Youwere quite right about the experience; I did need it--and I'm gettingit!"

She was getting some of which she made no mention. 

As she won and held the confidence of her subordinates, and the growinglist of club members, she learned their personal stories; what hadbefallen them in other families, and what they liked and disliked intheir present places. 

"The men are not so bad, " explained Catharine Kelly, at a club meeting, meaning the men servants; "they respect an honest girl if she respectsherself; but it's the young masters--and sometimes the old ones!"

"It's all nonsense, " protested Mrs. James, widowed cook of longstanding. "I've worked out for twenty-five years, and I never met nosuch goings on!"

Little Ilda looked at Mrs. James' severe face and giggled. 

"I've heard of it, " said Molly Connors, "I've a cousin that's workin'in New York; and she's had to leave two good places on account of theirmisbehavin' theirselves. She's a fine girl, but too good-lookin'. "

Diantha studied types, questioned them, drew them out, adjusted factsto theories and theories to facts. She found the weakness of thewhole position to lie in the utter ignorance and helplessness of theindividual servant. "If they were only organized, " she thought--"andknew their own power!--Well; there's plenty of time. "

As her acquaintance increased, and as Mrs. Weatherstone's interest inher plans increased also, she started the small summer experimentshe had planned, for furnishing labor by the day. Mrs. James was anexcellent cook, though most unpleasant to work with. She was quite ableto see that getting up frequent lunches at three dollars, and dinnersat five dollars, made a better income than ten dollars a week even withseveral days unoccupied. 

A group of younger women, under Diantha's sympathetic encouragement, agreed to take a small cottage together, with Mrs. James as a speciesof chaperone; and to go out in twos and threes as chambermaids andwaitresses at 25 cents an hour. Two of them could set in perfect orderone of the small beach cottage in an hour's time; and the occupants, already crowded for room, were quite willing to pay a little more incash "not to have a servant around. " Most of them took their meals outin any case. 

It was a modest attempt, elastic and easily alterable and based on thespecial conditions of a shore resort: Mrs. Weatherstone's known interestgave it social backing; and many ladies who heartily disapproved ofDiantha's theories found themselves quite willing to profit by this verypractical local solution of the "servant question. "

The "club girls" became very popular. Across the deep hot sand theyploughed, and clattered along the warping boardwalks, in merry pairs andgroups, finding the work far more varied and amusing than the endlessrepetition in one household. They had pleasant evenings too, with plentyof callers, albeit somewhat checked and chilled by rigorous Mrs. James. 

"It is both foolish and wicked!" said Madam Weatherstone to herdaughter-in-law, "Exposing a group of silly girls to such danger andtemptations! I understand there is singing and laughing going on at thathouse until half-past ten at night. "

"Yes, there is, " Viva admitted. "Mrs. James insists that they shallall be in bed at eleven--which is very wise. I'm glad they have goodtimes--there's safety in numbers, you know. "

"There will be a scandal in this community before long!" said the oldlady solemnly. "And it grieves me to think that this household will beresponsible for it!"

Diantha heard all this from the linen room while Madam Weatherstonebuttonholed her daughter-in-law in the hall; and in truth the old ladymeant that she should hear what she said. 

"She's right, I'm afraid!" said Diantha to herself--"there will be ascandal if I'm not mighty careful and this household will be responsiblefor it!"

Even as she spoke she caught Ilda's childish giggle in the lower hall, and looking over the railing saw her airily dusting the big Chinesevases and coquetting with young Mr. Mathew. 

Later on, Diantha tried seriously to rouse her conscience and her commonsense. "Don't you see, child, that it can't do you anything but harm?You can't carry on with a man like that as you can with one of your ownfriends. He is not to be trusted. One nice girl I had here simply leftthe place--he annoyed her so. "

Ilda was a little sulky. She had been quite a queen in the smallNorwegian village she was born in. Young men were young men--andthey might even--perhaps! This severe young housekeeper didn't knoweverything. Maybe she was jealous!

So Ilda was rather unconvinced, though apparently submissive, andDiantha kept a careful eye upon her. She saw to it that Ilda's room hada bolt as well as key in the door, and kept the room next to it empty;frequently using it herself, unknown to anyone. "I hate to turn thechild off, " she said to herself, conscientiously revolving the matter. "She isn't doing a thing more than most girls do--she's only a littlefool. And he's not doing anything I can complain of--yet. "

But she worried over it a good deal, and Mrs. Weatherstone noticed it. 

"Doesn't your pet club house go well, 'Miss Bell?' You seem troubledabout something. "

"I am, " Diantha admitted. "I believe I'll have to tell you about it--butI hate to. Perhaps if you'll come and look I shan't have to say much. "

She led her to a window that looked on the garden, the rich, vivid, flower-crowded garden of Southern California by the sea. Little Ilda, in a fresh black frock and snowy, frilly cap and apron, ran out to get arose; and while she sniffed and dallied they saw Mr. Mathew saunter outand join her. 

The girl was not as severe with him as she ought to have been--that wasevident; but it was also evident that she was frightened and furiouswhen he suddenly held her fast and kissed her with much satisfaction. Assoon as her arms were free she gave him a slap that sounded smartly evenat that distance; and ran crying into the house. 

"She's foolish, I admit, " said Diantha, --"but she doesn't realize herdanger at all. I've tried to make her. And now I'm more worried thanever. It seems rather hard to discharge her--she needs care. "

"I'll speak to that young man myself, " said Mrs. Weatherstone. "I'llspeak to his grandmother too!"

"O--would you?" urged Diantha. "She wouldn't believe anything exceptthat the girl 'led him on'--you know that. But I have an idea thatwe could convince her--if you're willing to do something rathermelodramatic--and I think we'd better do it to-night!"

"What's that?" asked her employer; and Diantha explained. It wasmelodramatic, but promised to be extremely convincing. 

"Do you think he'd dare! under my roof?" hotly demanded MadamWeatherstone. 

"I'm very much afraid it wouldn't be the first time, " Dianthareluctantly assured her. "It's no use being horrified. But if we couldonly make _sure_--"

"If we could only make his grandmother sure!" cried Madam Weatherstone. "That would save me a deal of trouble and misunderstanding. See here--Ithink I can manage it--what makes you think it's to-night?"

"I can't be absolutely certain--" Diantha explained; and told her thereasons she had. 

"It does look so, " her employer admitted. "We'll try it at any rate. "

Urging her mother-in-law's presence on the ground of needing herexperienced advice, Mrs. Weatherstone brought the august lady to theroom next to Ilda's late that evening, the housekeeper in attendance. 

"We mustn't wake the servants, " she said in an elaborate whisper. "They need sleep, poor things! But I want to consult you about thesecommunicating doors and the locksmith is coming in the morning. --you seethis opens from this side. " She turned the oiled key softly in the lock. "Now Miss Bell thinks they ought to be left so--so that the girls canvisit one another if they like--what do you think?"

"I think you are absurd to bring me to the top floor, at this timeof night, for a thing like this!" said the old lady. "They should bepermanently locked, to my mind! There's no question about it. "

Viva, still in low tones, discussed this point further; introduced thesubject of wall-paper or hard finish; pointed out from the window a talleucalyptus which she thought needed heading; did what she could to keepher mother-in-law on the spot; and presently her efforts were rewarded. 

A sound of muffled speech came from the next room--a man's voice dimlyheard. Madam Weatherstone raised her head like a warhorse. 

"What's this! What's this!" she said in a fierce whisper. 

Viva laid a hand on her arm. "Sh!" said she. "Let us make sure!" and shesoftly unlatched the door. 

A brilliant moon flooded the small chamber. They could see little Ilda, huddled in the bedclothes, staring at her door from which the key hadfallen. Another key was being inserted--turned--but the bolt held. 

"Come and open it, young lady!" said a careful voice outside. 

"Go away! Go away!" begged the girl, low and breathlessly. "Oh how _can_you! Go away quick!"

"Indeed, I won't!" said the voice. "You come and open it. "

"Go away, " she cried, in a soft but frantic voice. "I--I'll scream!"

"Scream away!" he answered. "I'll just say I came up to see what thescreaming's about, that's all. You open the door--if you don't wantanybody to know I'm here! I won't hurt you any--I just want to talk toyou a minute. "

Madam Weatherstone was speechless with horror, her daughter-in-lawlistened with set lips. Diantha looked from one to the other, and at thefrightened child before them who was now close to the terrible door. 

"O please!--_please!_ go away!" she cried in desperation. "O what shallI do! What shall I do!"

"You can't do anything, " he answered cheerfully. "And I'm coming inanyhow. You'd better keep still about this for your own sake. Stand fromunder!" Madam Weatherstone marched into the room. Ilda, with a littlecry, fled out of it to Diantha. 

There was a jump, a scramble, two knuckly hands appeared, a long leg wasput through the transom, two legs wildly wriggling, a descending body, and there stood before them, flushed, dishevelled, his coat up to hisears--Mat Weatherstone. 

He did not notice the stern rigidity of the figure which stood betweenhim and the moonlight, but clasped it warmly to his heart. --"Now I'vegot you, Ducky!" cried he, pressing all too affectionate kisses upon theface of his grandmother. 

Young Mrs. Weatherstone turned on the light. 

It was an embarrassing position for the gentleman. 

He had expected to find a helpless cowering girl; afraid to cry outbecause her case would be lost if she did; begging piteously that hewould leave her; wholly at his mercy. 

What he did find was so inexplicable as to reduce him to gibberingastonishment. There stood his imposing grandmother, so overwhelmedwith amazement that her trenchant sentences failed her completely; hisstepmother, wearing an expression that almost suggested delight in hisdiscomfiture; and Diantha, as grim as Rhadamanthus. 

Poor little Ilda burst into wild sobs and choking explanations, clingingto Diantha's hand. "If I'd only listened to you!" she said. "You told mehe was bad! I never thought he'd do such an awful thing!"

Young Mathew fumbled at the door. He had locked it outside in hisefforts with the pass-key. He was red, red to his ears--very red, butthere was no escape. He faced them--there was no good in facing thedoor. 

They all stood aside and let him pass--a wordless gauntlet. 

Diantha took the weeping Ilda to her room for the night. MadamWeatherstone and Mrs. Weatherstone went down together. 

"She must have encouraged him!" the older lady finally burst forth. 

"She did not encourage him to enter her room, as you saw and heard, "said Viva with repressed intensity. 

"He's only a boy!" said his grandmother. 

"She is only a child, a helpless child, a foreigner, away from home, untaught, unprotected, " Viva answered swiftly; adding with quietsarcasm--"Save for the shelter of the home!"

They parted in silence. 

CHAPTER X. UNION HOUSE. 

 "We are weak!" said the Sticks, and men broke them; "We are weak!" said the Threads, and were torn; Till new thoughts came and they spoke them; Till the Fagot and the Rope were born. 

 For the Fagot men find is resistant, And they anchor on the Rope's taut length; Even grasshoppers combined, Are a force, the farmers find-- In union there is strength. 

Ross Warden endured his grocery business; strove with it, toiled at it, concentrated his scientific mind on alien tasks of financial calculationand practical psychology, but he liked it no better. He had no interestin business, no desire to make money, no skill in salesmanship. 

But there were five mouths at home; sweet affectionate feminine mouthsno doubt, but requiring food. Also two in the kitchen, wider, andrequiring more food. And there were five backs at home to be covered, to use the absurd metaphor--as if all one needed for clothing was afour foot patch. The amount and quality of the covering was an unceasingsurprise to Ross, and he did not do justice to the fact that hiswomenfolk really saved a good deal by doing their own sewing. 

In his heart he longed always to be free of the whole hated load oftradesmanship. Continually his thoughts went back to the hope of sellingout the business and buying a ranch. 

"I could make it keep us, anyhow, " he would plan to himself; "and Icould get at that guinea pig idea. Or maybe hens would do. " He hada theory of his own, or a personal test of his own, rather, which hewished to apply to a well known theory. It would take some years towork it out, and a great many fine pigs, and be of no possible valuefinancially. "I'll do it sometime, " he always concluded; which was coldcomfort. 

His real grief at losing the companionship of the girl he loved, wasmade more bitter by a total lack of sympathy with her aims, even if sheachieved them--in which he had no confidence. He had no power to changehis course, and tried not to be unpleasant about it, but he had toexpress his feelings now and then. 

"Are you coming back to me?" he wrote. "How con you bear to give so muchpain to everyone who loves you? Is your wonderful salary worth more toyou than being here with your mother--with me? How can you say youlove me--and ruin both our lives like this? I cannot come to see you--I_would_ not come to see you--calling at the back door! Finding the girlI love in a cap and apron! Can you not see it is wrong, utterly wrong, all this mad escapade of yours? Suppose you do make a thousand dollars ayear--I shall never touch your money--you know that. I cannot even offeryou a home, except with my family, and I know how you feel about that; Ido not blame you. 

"But I am as stubborn as you are, dear girl; I will not live on mywife's money--you will not live in my mother's house--and we aredrifting apart. It is not that I care less for you dear, or at all foranyone else, but this is slow death--that's all. "

Mrs. Warden wrote now and then and expatiated on the sufferings of herson, and his failing strength under the unnatural strain, till Dianthagrew to dread her letters more than any pain she knew. Fortunately theycame seldom. 

Her own family was much impressed by the thousand dollars, and foundthe occupation of housekeeper a long way more tolerable than that ofhouse-maid, a distinction which made Diantha smile rather bitterly. Evenher father wrote to her once, suggesting that if she chose to investher salary according to his advice he could double it for her in a year, maybe treble it, in Belgian hares. 

_"They'd_ double and treble fast enough!" she admitted to herself; butshe wrote as pleasant a letter as she could, declining his proposition. 

Her mother seemed stronger, and became more sympathetic as the monthspassed. Large affairs always appealed to her more than small ones, andshe offered valuable suggestions as to the account keeping of the bighouse. They all assumed that she was permanently settled in this wellpaid position, and she made no confidences. But all summer longshe planned and read and studied out her progressive schemes, andstrengthened her hold among the working women. 

Laundress after laundress she studied personally and testedprofessionally, finding a general level of mediocrity, till finallyshe hit upon a melancholy Dane--a big rawboned red-faced woman--whosehusband had been a miller, but was hurt about the head so that he was nolonger able to earn his living. The huge fellow was docile, quiet, andendlessly strong, but needed constant supervision. 

"He'll do anything you tell him, Miss, and do it well; but then he'llsit and dream about it--I can't leave him at all. But he'll take theclothes if I give him a paper with directions, and come right back. "Poor Mrs. Thorald wiped her eyes, and went on with her swift ironing. 

Diantha offered her the position of laundress at Union House, with tworooms for their own, over the laundry. "There'll be work for him, too, "she said. "We need a man there. He can do a deal of the heavier work--beporter you know. I can't offer him very much, but it will help some. "

Mrs. Thorald accepted for both, and considered Diantha as a specialprovidence. 

There was to be cook, and two capable second maids. The work of thehouse must be done thoroughly well, Diantha determined; "and the food'sgot to be good--or the girls wont stay. " After much consideration sheselected one Julianna, a "person of color, " for her kitchen: not thejovial and sloppy personage usually figuring in this character, but atall, angular, and somewhat cynical woman, a misanthrope in fact, with asmall son. For men she had no respect whatever, but conceded a grudgingadmiration to Mr. Thorald as "the usefullest biddablest male person"she had ever seen. She also extended special sympathy to Mrs. Thorald onaccount of her peculiar burden, and the Swedish woman had no antipathyto her color, and seemed to take a melancholy pleasure in Julianna'scaustic speeches. 

Diantha offered her the place, boy and all. "He can be 'bell boy' andhelp you in the kitchen, too. Can't you, Hector?" Hector rolledlarge adoring eyes at her, but said nothing. His mother accepted theproposition, but without enthusiasm. "I can't keep no eye on him, Miss, if I'm cookin' an less'n you keep your eye on him they's no work to begot out'n any kind o' boy. "

"What is your last name, Julianna?" Diantha asked her. 

"I suppose, as a matter o' fac' its de name of de last nigger Imarried, " she replied. "Dere was several of 'em, all havin' differentnames, and to tell you de truf Mis' Bell, I got clean mixed amongst 'em. But Julianna's my name--world without end amen. "

So Diantha had to waive her theories about the surnames of servants inthis case. 

"Did they all die?" she asked with polite sympathy. 

"No'm, dey didn't none of 'em die--worse luck. "

"I'm afraid you have seen much trouble, Julianna, " she continuedsympathetically; "They deserted you, I suppose?"

Julianna laid her long spoon upon the table and stood up with greatgravity. "No'm, " she said again, "dey didn't none of 'em desert me on nooccasion. I divorced 'em. "

Marital difficulties in bulk were beyond Diantha's comprehension, andshe dropped the subject. 

Union House opened in the autumn. The vanished pepper trees were dimwith dust in Orchardina streets as the long rainless summer drew toa close; but the social atmosphere fairly sparkled with new interest. Those who had not been away chattered eagerly with those who had, andboth with the incoming tide of winter visitors. 

"That girl of Mrs. Porne's has started her housekeeping shop!"

"That 'Miss Bell' has got Mrs. Weatherstone fairly infatuated with hercrazy schemes. "

"Do you know that Bell girl has actually taken Union House? Going tomake a Girl's Club of it!"

"Did you ever _hear_ of such a thing! Diantha Bell's really going to tryto run her absurd undertaking right here in Orchardina!"

They did not know that the young captain of industry had deliberatelychosen Orchardina as her starting point on account of the specialconditions. The even climate was favorable to "going out by the day, " orthe delivery of meals, the number of wealthy residents gave opportunityfor catering on a large scale; the crowding tourists and health seekersmade a market for all manner of transient service and cooked food, andthe constant lack of sufficient or capable servants forced the peopleinto an unwilling consideration of any plan of domestic assistance. 

In a year's deliberate effort Diantha had acquainted herself with therank and file of the town's housemaids and day workers, and picked herassistants carefully. She had studied the local conditions thoroughly, and knew her ground. A big faded building that used to be "the Hotel"in Orchardina's infant days, standing, awkward and dingy on a site toovaluable for a house lot and not yet saleable as a business block, wasthe working base. 

A half year with Mrs. Weatherstone gave her $500 in cash, besides the$100 she had saved at Mrs. Porne's; and Mrs. Weatherstone's cheerfullyoffered backing gave her credit. 

"I hate to let you, " said Diantha, "I want to do it all myself. "

"You are a painfully perfect person, Miss Bell, " said her last employer, pleasantly, "but you have ceased to be my housekeeper and I hope youwill continue to be my friend. As a friend I claim the privilegeof being disagreeable. If you have a fault it is conceit. ImmovableColossal Conceit! And Obstinacy!"

"Is that all?" asked Diantha. 

"It's all I've found--so far, " gaily retorted Mrs. Weatherstone. "Don'tyou see, child, that you can't afford to wait? You have reasons forhastening, you know. I don't doubt you could, in a series of years, work up this business all stark alone. I have every confidence in thosequalities I have mentioned! But what's the use? You'll need credit forgroceries and furniture. I am profoundly interested in this business. I am more than willing to advance a little capital, or to ensure yourcredit. A man would have sense enough to take me up at once. "

"I believe you are right, " Diantha reluctantly agreed. "And you shan'tlose by it!"

Her friends were acutely interested in her progress, and showed it inpractical ways. The New Woman's Club furnished five families ofpatrons for the regular service of cooked food, which soon grew, withsatisfaction, to a dozen or so, varying from time to time. The manyfamilies with invalids, and lonely invalids without families, were gladto avail themselves of the special delicacies furnished at Union House. Picnickers found it easier to buy Diantha's marvelous sandwiches than tospend golden morning hours in putting up inferior ones at home; and manywho cooked for themselves, or kept servants, were glad to profit by thisoutside source on Sunday evenings and "days out. "

There was opposition too; both the natural resistance of inertia andprejudice, and the active malignity of Mrs. Thaddler. 

The Pornes were sympathetic and anxious. 

"That place'll cost her all of $10, 000 a year, with those twenty-five tofeed, and they only pay $4. 50 a week--I know that!" said Mr. Porne. 

"It does look impossible, " his wife agreed, "but such is my faith inDiantha Bell I'd back her against Rockefeller!"

Mrs. Weatherstone was not alarmed at all. "If she _should_ fail--whichI don't for a moment expect--it wont ruin me, " she told Isabel. "And ifshe succeeds, as I firmly believe she will, why, I'd be willing to riskalmost anything to prove Mrs. Thaddler in the wrong. "

Mrs. Thaddler was making herself rather disagreeable. She usedwhat power she had to cry down the undertaking, and was so activelymalevolent that her husband was moved to covert opposition. He neverargued with his wife--she was easily ahead of him in that art, and, ifit came to recriminations, had certain controvertible charges to makeagainst him, which mode him angrily silent. He was convinced in a dimway that her ruthless domineering spirit, and the sheer malice she oftenshowed, were more evil things than his own bad habits; and that evenin their domestic relation her behavior really caused him more painand discomfort than he caused her; but he could not convince her of it, naturally. 

"That Diantha Bell is a fine girl, " he said to himself. "A damn finegirl, and as straight as a string!"

There had crept out, through the quenchless leak of servants talk, avaricolored version of the incident of Mathew and the transom; and thetown had grown so warm for that young gentleman that he had gone toAlaska suddenly, to cool off, as it were. His Grandmother, findingMrs. Thaddler invincible with this new weapon, and what she had so longregarded as her home now visibly Mrs. Weatherstone's, had retired inregal dignity to her old Philadelphia establishment, where she upheldthe standard of decorum against the weakening habits of a deterioratedworld, for many years. 

As Mr. Thaddler thought of this sweeping victory, he chuckled for thehundredth time. "She ought to make good, and she will. Something's gotto be done about it, " said he. 

Diantha had never liked Mr. Thaddler; she did not like that kind of manin general, nor his manner toward her in particular. Moreover he was thehusband of Mrs. Thaddler. She did not know that he was still the largestowner in the town's best grocery store, and when that store offeredher special terms for her exclusive trade, she accepted the propositionthankfully. 

She told Ross about it, as a matter well within his knowledge, if nothis liking, and he was mildly interested. "I am much alarmed at this newventure, " he wrote, "but you must get your experience. I wish I couldsave you. As to the groceries, those are wholesale rates, nearly;they'll make enough on it. Yours is a large order you see, and steady. "

When she opened her "Business Men's Lunch" Mr. Thaddler had a stillbetter opportunity. He had a reputation as a high flyer, and had reallyintended to sacrifice himself on the altar of friendship by patronizingand praising this "undertaking" at any cost to his palate; but nosacrifice was needed. 

Diantha's group of day workers had their early breakfast anddeparted, taking each her neat lunch-pail, --they ate nothing of theiremployers;--and both kitchen and dining room would have stood idle tillsupper time. But the young manager knew she must work her plant for allit was worth, and speedily opened the dining room with the side entranceas a "Caffeteria, " with the larger one as a sort of meeting place;papers and magazines on the tables. 

From the counter you took what you liked, and seated yourself, and yourfriends, at one of the many small tables or in the flat-armed chairsin the big room, or on the broad piazza; and as this gave good food, cheapness, a chance for a comfortable seat and talk and a smoke, if onehad time, it was largely patronized. 

Mr. Thaddler, as an experienced _bon vivant, _ despised sandwiches. "Picnicky makeshifts" he called them, --"railroad rations"--"bread andleavings, " and when he saw these piles on piles of sandwiches, listedonly as "No. 1, " "No. 2" "No. 3, " and so on, his benevolent intentionwavered. But he pulled himself together and took a plateful, assorted. 

"Come on, Porne, " he said, "we'll play it's a Sunday school picnic, "and he drew himself a cup of coffee, finding hot milk, cream and sugarcrystals at hand. "I never saw a cheap joint where you could fix ityourself, before, " he said, --and suspiciously tasted the mixture. 

"By jing! That's coffee!" he cried in surprise. "There's no scum on themilk, and the cream's cream! Five cents! She won't get rich on this. "

Then he applied himself to his "No. 1" sandwich, and his determinedexpression gave way to one of pleasure. "Why that's bread--real bread! Ibelieve she made it herself!"

She did in truth, --she and Julianna with Hector as general assistant. The big oven was filled several times every morning: the fresh rollsdisappeared at breakfast and supper, the fresh bread was packed in thelunch pails, and the stale bread was even now melting away in largebites behind the smiling mouths and mustaches of many men. Perfectbread, excellent butter, and "What's the filling I'd like to know?"More than one inquiring-minded patron split his sandwich to add sightto taste, but few could be sure of the flavorsome contents, fatless, gritless, smooth and even, covering the entire surface, the lastmouthful as perfect as the first. Some were familiar, some new, all weredelicious. 

The six sandwiches were five cents, the cup of coffee five, and thelittle "drop cakes, " sweet and spicy, were two for five. Every man spentfifteen cents, some of them more; and many took away small cakes inpaper bags, if there were any left. 

"I don't see how you can do it, and make a profit, " urged Mr. Eltwood, making a pastorial call. "They are so good you know!"

Diantha smiled cheerfully. "That's because all your ideas are based onwhat we call 'domestic economy, ' which is domestic waste. I buy in largequantities at wholesale rates, and my cook with her little helper, thetwo maids, and my own share of the work, of course, provides for thelot. Of course one has to know how. "

"Whenever did you find--or did you create?--those heavenly sandwiches?"he asked. 

"I have to thank my laundress for part of that success, " she said. "She's a Dane, and it appears that the Danes are so fond of sandwichesthat, in large establishments, they have a 'sandwich kitchen' to preparethem. It is quite a bit of work, but they are good and inexpensive. There is no limit to the variety. "

As a matter of fact this lunch business paid well, and led to largerthings. 

The girl's methods were simple and so organized as to make one hand washthe other. Her house had some twenty-odd bedrooms, full accommodationsfor kitchen and laundry work on a large scale, big dining, dancing, andreception rooms, and broad shady piazzas on the sides. Its position on acorner near the business part of the little city, and at the foot of thehill crowned with so many millionaires and near millionaires as couldget land there, offered many advantages, and every one was taken. 

The main part of the undertaking was a House Worker's Union; a groupof thirty girls, picked and trained. These, previously working out asservants, had received six dollars a week "and found. " They now workedan agreed number of hours, were paid on a basis by the hour or day, and"found" themselves. Each had her own room, and the broad porches andball room were theirs, except when engaged for dances and meetings ofone sort and another. 

It was a stirring year's work, hard but exciting, and the onlydifficulty which really worried Diantha was the same that worried theaverage housewife--the accounts. 

CHAPTER XI. THE POWER OF THE SCREW. 

 Your car is too big for one person to stir-- Your chauffeur is a little man, too; Yet he lifts that machine, does the little chauffeur, By the power of a gentle jackscrew. 

Diantha worked. 

For all her employees she demanded a ten-hour day, she worked fourteen;rising at six and not getting to bed till eleven, when her charges wereall safely in their rooms for the night. 

They were all up at five-thirty or thereabouts, breakfasting at six, andthe girls off in time to reach their various places by seven. Their daywas from 7 A. M. To 8. 30 P. M. , with half an hour out, from 11. 30 totwelve, for their lunch; and three hours, between 2. 20 and 5. 30, fortheir own time, including their tea. Then they worked again from 5. 30to 8. 30, on the dinner and the dishes, and then they came home to apleasant nine o'clock supper, and had all hour to dance or rest beforethe 10. 30 bell for bed time. 

Special friends and "cousins" often came home with them, and frequentlyshared the supper--for a quarter--and the dance for nothing. 

It was no light matter in the first place to keep twenty girls contentedwith such a regime, and working with the steady excellence required, andin the second place to keep twenty employers contented with them. Therewere failures on both sides; half a dozen families gave up the plan, andit took time to replace them; and three girls had to be asked to resignbefore the year was over. But most of them had been in training in thesummer, and had listened for months to Diantha's earnest talks to theclubs, with good results. 

"Remember we are not doing this for ourselves alone, " she would say tothem. "Our experiment is going to make this kind of work easier for allhome workers everywhere. You may not like it at first, but neither didyou like the old way. It will grow easier as we get used to it; and we_must_ keep the rules, because we made them!"

She laboriously composed a neat little circular, distributed it widely, and kept a pile in her lunch room for people to take. 

It read thus:

 UNION HOUSE Food and Service. 

 General Housework by the week. .. .. $10. 00 General Housework by the day. .. .. .. $2. 00 Ten hours work a day, and furnish their own food. Additional labor by the hour. .. .. .. $. 20 Special service for entertainments, maids and waitresses, by the hour. .. .. .. .. . $. 25 Catering for entertainments. Delicacies for invalids. Lunches packed and delivered. Caffeteria. .. 12 to 2

What annoyed the young manager most was the uncertainty and irregularityinvolved in her work, the facts varying considerably from hercalculations. 

In the house all ran smoothly. Solemn Mrs. Thorvald did the laundrywork for thirty-five--by the aid of her husband and a big mangle for the"flat work. " The girls' washing was limited. "You have to be reasonableabout it, " Diantha had explained to them. "Your fifty cents covers adozen pieces--no more. If you want more you have to pay more, just asyour employers do for your extra time. "

This last often happened. No one on the face of it could ask more thanten hours of the swift, steady work given by the girls at but a fractionover 14 cents an hour. Yet many times the housekeeper was anxious formore labor on special days; and the girls, unaccustomed to the threefree hours in the afternoon, were quite willing to furnish it, thusadding somewhat to their cash returns. 

They had a dressmaking class at the club afternoons, and as Union Houseboasted a good sewing machine, many of them spent the free hours inenlarging their wardrobes. Some amused themselves with light reading, afew studied, others met and walked outside. The sense of honest leisuregrew upon them, with its broadening influence; and among her thirtyDiantha found four or five who were able and ambitious, and willing towork heartily for the further development of the business. 

Her two housemaids were specially selected. When the girls were out ofthe house these two maids washed the breakfast dishes with marvelousspeed, and then helped Diantha prepare for the lunch. This was a largeundertaking, and all three of them, as well as Julianna and Hectorworked at it until some six or eight hundred sandwiches were ready, andtwo or three hundred little cakes. 

Diantha had her own lunch, and then sat at the receipt of custom duringthe lunch hour, making change and ordering fresh supplies as fast asneeded. 

The two housemaids had a long day, but so arranged that it made but tenhours work, and they had much available time of their own. They had tobe at work at 5:30 to set the table for six o'clock breakfast, and thenthey were at it steadily, with the dining rooms to "do, " and the lunchto get ready, until 11:30, when they had an hour to eat and rest. From12:30 to 4 o'clock they were busy with the lunch cups, the bed-rooms, and setting the table for dinner; but after that they had four hours tothemselves, until the nine o'clock supper was over, and once morethey washed dishes for half an hour. The caffeteria used only cups andspoons; the sandwiches and cakes were served on paper plates. 

In the hand-cart methods of small housekeeping it is impossible to exactthe swift precision of such work, but not in the standardized tasks andregular hours of such an establishment as this. 

Diantha religiously kept her hour at noon, and tried to keep the threein the afternoon; but the employer and manager cannot take irresponsiblerest as can the employee. She felt like a most inexperienced captainon a totally new species of ship, and her paper plans looked very weaksometimes, as bills turned out to be larger than she had allowed for, or her patronage unaccountably dwindled. But if the difficulties weregreat, the girl's courage was greater. "It is simply a big piece ofwork, " she assured herself, "and may be a long one, but there neverwas anything better worth doing. Every new business has difficulties, Imustn't think of them. I must just push and push and push--a little moreevery day. "

And then she would draw on all her powers to reason with, laugh at, andpersuade some dissatisfied girl; or, hardest of all, to bring in a newone to fill a vacancy. 

She enjoyed the details of her lunch business, and studied it carefully;planning for a restaurant a little later. Her bread was baked in longcylindrical closed pans, and cut by machinery into thin even slices, not a crust wasted; for they were ground into crumbs and used in thecooking. 

The filling for her sandwiches was made from fish, flesh, and fowl; fromcheese and jelly and fruit and vegetables; and so named or numbered thatthe general favorites were gradually determined. 

Mr. Thaddler chatted with her over the counter, as far as she wouldallow it, and discoursed more fully with his friends on the verandah. 

"Porne, " he said, "where'd that girl come from anyway? She's a genius, that's what she is; a regular genius. "

"She's all that, " said Mr. Porne, "and a benefactor to humanity thrownin. I wish she'd start her food delivery, though. I'm tired of those twoSwedes already. O--come from? Up in Jopalez, Inca County, I believe. "

"New England stock I bet, " said Mr. Thaddler. "Its a damn shame the waythe women go on about her. "

"Not all of them, surely, " protested Mr. Porne. 

"No, not all of 'em, --but enough of 'em to make mischief, you may besure. Women are the devil, sometimes. "

Mr. Porne smiled without answer, and Mr. Thaddler went sulking away--abag of cakes bulging in his pocket. 

The little wooden hotel in Jopalez boasted an extra visitor a few dayslater. A big red faced man, who strolled about among the tradesmen, tried the barber's shop, loafed in the post office, hired a rig andtraversed the length and breadth of the town, and who called on Mrs. Warden, talking real estate with her most politely in spite of herprotestation and the scornful looks of the four daughters; who boughttobacco and matches in the grocery store, and sat on the piazza thereofto smoke, as did other gentlemen of leisure. 

Ross Warden occasionally leaned at the door jamb, with folded arms. Henever could learn to be easily sociable with ranchmen and teamsters. Serve them he must, but chat with them he need not. The stout gentlemanessayed some conversation, but did not get far. Ross was polite, butfar from encouraging, and presently went home to supper, leaving acarrot-haired boy to wait upon his lingering customers. 

"Nice young feller enough, " said the stout gentleman to himself, "butraised on ramrods. Never got 'em from those women folks of his, either. He _has_ a row to hoe!" And he departed as he had come. 

Mr. Eltwood turned out an unexpectedly useful friend to Diantha. Hesteered club meetings and "sociables" into her large rooms, and aspeople found how cheap and easy it was to give parties that way, theycontinued the habit. He brought his doctor friends to sample the lunch, and they tested the value of Diantha's invalid cookery, and were morethan pleased. 

Hungry tourists were wholly without prejudice, and prized her lunchesfor their own sake. They descended upon the caffeteria in chatteringswarms, some days, robbing the regular patrons of their food, and sentsudden orders for picnic lunches that broke in upon the routine hours ofthe place unmercifully. 

But of all her patrons, the families of invalids appreciated Diantha'swork the most. Where a little shack or tent was all they could affordto live in, or where the tiny cottage was more than filled with thepatient, attending relative, and nurse, this depot of supplies was arelief indeed. 

A girl could be had for an hour or two; or two girls, together, withamazing speed, could put a small house in dainty order while the sickman lay in his hammock under the pepper trees; and be gone before he wasfretting for his bed again. They lived upon her lunches; and from them, and other quarters, rose an increasing demand for regular cooked food. 

"Why don't you go into it at once?" urged Mrs. Weatherstone. 

"I want to establish the day service first, " said Diantha. "It is apretty big business I find, and I do get tired sometimes. I can't affordto slip up, you know. I mean to take it up next fall, though. "

"All right. And look here; see that you begin in first rate shape. I'vegot some ideas of my own about those food containers. "

They discussed the matter more than once, Diantha most reluctant to takeany assistance; Mrs. Weatherstone determined that she should. 

"I feel like a big investor already, " she said. "I don't think evenyou realize the _money_ there is in this thing! You are interestedin establishing the working girls, and saving money and time for thehousewives. I am interested in making money out of it--honestly! Itwould be such a triumph!"

"You're very good--" Diantha hesitated. 

"I'm not good. I'm most eagerly and selfishly interested. I've taken anew lease of life since knowing you, Diantha Bell! You see my fatherwas a business man, and his father before him--I _like it. _ There I was, with lots of money, and not an interest in life! Now?--why, there'sno end to this thing, Diantha! It's one of the biggest businesses onearth--if not _the_ biggest!"

"Yes--I know, " the girl answered. "But its slow work. I feel the weightof it more than I expected. There's every reason to succeed, but there'sthe combined sentiment of the whole world to lift--it's as heavy aslead. "

"Heavy! Of course it's heavy! The more fun to lift it! You'll do it, Diantha, I know you will, with that steady, relentless push of yours. But the cooked food is going to be your biggest power, and you must letme start it right. Now you listen to me, and make Mrs. Thaddler eat herwords!"

Mrs. Thaddler's words would have proved rather poisonous, if eaten. Shegrew more antagonistic as the year advanced. Every fault that could befound in the undertaking she pounced upon and enlarged; every doubt thatcould be cast upon it she heavily piled up; and her opposition grew morerancorous as Mr. Thaddler enlarged in her hearing upon the excellence ofDiantha's lunches and the wonders of her management. 

"She's picked a bunch o' winners in those girls of hers, " he declared tohis friends. "They set out in the morning looking like a flock of sweetpeas--in their pinks and whites and greens and vi'lets, --and do morework in an hour than the average slavey can do in three, I'm told. "

It was a pretty sight to see those girls start out. They had a sort ofuniform, as far as a neat gingham dress went, with elbow sleeves, whiteruffled, and a Dutch collar; a sort of cross between a nurses dress andthat of "La Chocolataire;" but colors were left to taste. Each carriedher apron and a cap that covered the hair while cooking and sweeping;but nothing that suggested the black and white livery of the regulationservant. 

"This is a new stage of labor, " their leader reminded them. "You arenot servants--you are employees. You wear a cap as an English carpenterdoes--or a French cook, --and an apron because your work needs it. It isnot a ruffled label, --it's a business necessity. And each one of us mustdo our best to make this new kind of work valued and respected. "

It is no easy matter to overcome prejudices many centuries old, and meetthe criticism of women who have nothing to do but criticize. Those whowere "mistresses, " and wanted "servants, "--someone to do their will atany moment from early morning till late evening, --were not pleased withthe new way if they tried it; but the women who had interests of theirown to attend to; who merely wanted their homes kept clean, and thefood well cooked and served, were pleased. The speed, the accuracy, theeconomy; the pleasant, quiet, assured manner of these skilled employeeswas a very different thing from the old slipshod methods of the ordinarygeneral servant. 

So the work slowly prospered, while Diantha began to put in executionthe new plan she had been forced into. 

While it matured, Mrs. Thaddler matured hers. With steady dropping shehad let fall far and wide her suspicions as to the character of UnionHouse. 

"It looks pretty queer to me!" she would say, confidentially, "All thosegirls together, and no person to have any authority over them! Not amarried woman in the house but that washerwoman, --and her husband's afool!"

"And again; You don't see how she does it? Neither do I! The expensesmust be tremendous--those girls pay next to nothing, --and all that brothand brown bread flying about town! Pretty queer doings, I think!"

"The men seem to like that caffeteria, don't they?" urged one caller, perhaps not unwilling to nestle Mrs. Thaddler, who flushed darkly as shereplied. "Yes, they do. Men usually like that sort of place. "

"They like good food at low prices, if that's what you mean, " hervisitor answered. 

"That's not all I mean--by a long way, " said Mrs. Thaddler. She said somuch, and said it so ingeniously, that a dark rumor arose from nowhere, and grew rapidly. Several families discharged their Union House girls. Several girls complained that they were insultingly spoken to on thestreet. Even the lunch patronage began to fall off. 

Diantha was puzzled--a little alarmed. Her slow, steady lifting of theprejudice against her was checked. She could not put her finger on theenemy, yet felt one distinctly, and had her own suspicions. But she alsohad her new move well arranged by this time. 

Then a maliciously insinuating story of the place came out in a SanFrancisco paper, and a flock of local reporters buzzed in to sample thevictim. They helped themselves to the luncheon, and liked it, but thatdid not soften their pens. They talked with such of the girls as theycould get in touch with, and wrote such versions of these talks assuited them. 

They called repeatedly at Union House, but Diantha refused to see them. Finally she was visited by the Episcopalian clergyman. He had heardher talk at the Club, was favorably impressed by the girl herself, andhonestly distressed by the dark stories he now heard about Union House. 

"My dear young lady, " he said, "I have called to see you in your owninterests. I do not, as you perhaps know, approve of your schemes. Iconsider them--ah--subversive of the best interests of the home! ButI think you mean well, though mistakenly. Now I fear you are not awarethat this-ah--ill-considered undertaking of yours, is giving rise toconsiderable adverse comment in the community. There is--ah--there is agreat deal being said about this business of yours which I am sure youwould regret if you knew it. Do you think it is wise; do you think itis--ah--right, my dear Miss Bell, to attempt to carry on a--a place ofthis sort, without the presence of a--of a Matron of assured standing?"

Diantha smiled rather coldly. 

"May I trouble you to step into the back parlor, Dr. Aberthwaite, " shesaid; and then;

"May I have the pleasure of presenting to you Mrs. Henderson Bell--mymother?"

*****

"Wasn't it great!" said Mrs. Weatherstone; "I was there you see, --I'dcome to call on Mrs. Bell--she's a dear, --and in came Mrs. Thaddler--"

"Mrs. Thaddler?"

"O I know it was old Aberthwaite, but he represented Mrs. Thaddler andher clique, and had come there to preach to Diantha about propriety--Iheard him, --and she brought him in and very politely introduced him toher mother!--it was rich, Isabel. "

"How did Diantha manage it?" asked her friend. 

"She's been trying to arrange it for ever so long. Of course her fatherobjected--you'd know that. But there's a sister--not a bad sort, onlyvery limited; she's taken the old man to board, as it were, and I guessthe mother really set her foot down for once--said she had a right tovisit her own daughter!"

"It would seem so, " Mrs. Porne agreed. "I _am_ so glad! It will be somuch easier for that brave little woman now. "

It was. 

Diantha held her mother in her arms the night she came, and cried tike ababy. 

"O mother _dear!_" she sobbed, "I'd no idea I should miss you so much. Oyou blessed comfort!"

Her mother cried a bit too; she enjoyed this daughter more than eitherof her older children, and missed her more. A mother loves all herchildren, naturally; but a mother is also a person--and may, withoutsin, have personal preferences. 

She took hold of Diantha's tangled mass of papers with the eagerness ofa questing hound. 

"You've got all the bills, of course, " she demanded, with her anxiousrising inflection. 

"Every one, " said the girl. "You taught me that much. What puzzles meis to make things balance. I'm making more than I thought in some lines, and less in others, and I can't make it come out straight. "

"It won't, altogether, till the end of the year I dare say, " said Mrs. Bell, "but let's get clear as far as we can. In the first place we mustseparate your business, --see how much each one pays. "

"The first one I want to establish, " said her daughter, "is the girl'sclub. Not just this one, with me to run it. But to show that any groupof twenty or thirty girls could do this thing in any city. Of coursewhere rents and provisions were high they'd have to charge more. I wantto make an average showing somehow. Now can you disentangle the girlpart front the lunch part and the food part, mother dear, and make itall straight?"

Mrs. Bell could and did; it gave her absolute delight to do it. She setdown the total of Diantha's expenses so far in the Service Department, as follows:

 Rent of Union House $1, 500 Rent of furniture. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. $300 One payment on furniture. .. .. .. .. .. . $400 Fuel and lights, etc. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . $352 Service of 5 at $10 a week each. .. $2, 600 Food for thirty-seven. .. .. .. .. .. .. $3, 848 ----- Total. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. $9, 000

"That covers everything but my board, " said Mrs. Bell. 

"Now your income is easy--35 x $4. 50 equals $8, 190. Take that from your$9, 000 and you are $810 behind. "

"Yes, I know, " said Diantha, eagerly, "but if it was merely a girl'sclub home, the rent and fixtures would be much less. A home could bebuilt, with thirty bedrooms--and all necessary conveniences--for $7, 000. I've asked Mr. And Mrs. Porne about it; and the furnishing needn't costover $2, 000 if it was very plain. Ten per cent. Of that is a rent of$900 you see. "

"I see, " said her mother. "Better say a thousand. I guess it could bedone for that. "

So they set down rent, $1, 000. 

"There have to be five paid helpers in the house, " Diantha went on, "thecook, the laundress, the two maids, and the matron. She must buy andmanage. She could be one of their mothers or aunts. "

Mrs. Bell smiled. "Do you really imagine, Diantha, that Mrs. O'Shaughnessy or Mrs. Yon Yonson can manage a house like this as youcan?"

Diantha flushed a little. "No, mother, of course not. But I am keepingvery full reports of all the work. Just the schedule of labor--thehours--the exact things done. One laundress, with machinery, canwash for thirty-five, (its only six a day you see), and the amount isregulated; about six dozen a day, and all the flat work mangled. 

"In a Girl's Club alone the cook has all day off, as it were; she can dothe down stairs cleaning. And the two maids have only table service andbedrooms. "

"Thirty-five bedrooms?"

"Yes. But two girls together, who know how, can do a room in 8minutes--easily. They are small and simple you see. Make the bed, shakethe mats, wipe the floors and windows, --you watch them!"

"I have watched them, " the mother admitted. "They are as quick as--asmill-workers!"

"Well, " pursued Diantha, "they spend three hours on dishes and tables, and seven on cleaning. The bedrooms take 280 minutes; that's nearly fivehours. The other two are for the bath rooms, halls, stairs, downstairswindows, and so on. That's all right. Then I'm keeping the menus--justwhat I furnish and what it costs. Anybody could order and manage whenit was all set down for her. And you see--as you have figured it--they'dhave over $500 leeway to buy the furniture if they were allowed to. "

"Yes, " Mrs. Bell admitted, "_if_ the rent was what you allow, and _if_they all work all the time!"

"That's the hitch, of course. But mother; the girls who don't havesteady jobs do work by the hour, and that brings in more, on the whole. If they are the right kind they can make good. If they find anyone whodon't keep her job--for good reasons--they can drop her. "

"M'm!" said Mrs. Bell. "Well, it's an interesting experiment. But howabout you? So far you are $410 behind. "

"Yes, because my rent's so big. But I cover that by letting the rooms, you see. "

Mrs. Bell considered the orders of this sort. "So far it averages about$25. 00 a week; that's doing well. "

"It will be less in summer--much less, " Diantha suggested. "Suppose youcall it an average of $15. 00. "

"Call it $10. 00, " said her mother ruthlessly. "At that it covers yourdeficit and $110 over. "

"Which isn't much to live on, " Diantha agreed, "but then comes myspecial catering, and the lunches. "

Here they were quite at sea for a while. But as the months passed, andthe work steadily grew on their hands, Mrs. Bell became more and morecheerful. She was up with the earliest, took entire charge of thefinancial part of the concern, and at last Diantha was able to restfully in her afternoon hours. What delighted her most was to see hermother thrive in the work. Her thin shoulders lifted a little as smalldragging tasks were forgotten and a large growing business substituted. Her eyes grew bright again, she held her head as she did in her keengirlhood, and her daughter felt fresh hope and power as she saw alreadythe benefit of the new method as affecting her nearest and dearest. 

All Diantha's friends watched the spread of the work with keenlysympathetic intent; but to Mrs. Weatherstone it became almost asfascinating as to the girl herself. 

"It's going to be one of the finest businesses in the world!" she said, "And one of the largest and best paying. Now I'll have a surpriseready for that girl in the spring, and another next year, if I'm notmistaken!"

There were long and vivid discussions of the matter between her andher friends the Pornes, and Mrs. Porne spent more hours in her "drawingroom" than she had for years. 

But while these unmentioned surprises were pending, Mrs. Weatherstonedeparted to New York--to Europe; and was gone some months. In the springshe returned, in April--which is late June in Orchardina. She calledupon Diantha and her mother at once, and opened her attack. 

"I do hope, Mrs. Bell, that you'll back me up, " she said. "You have thebetter business head I think, in the financial line. "

"She has, " Diantha admitted. "She's ten times as good as I am atthat; but she's no more willing to carry obligation than I am, Mrs. Weatherstone. "

"Obligation is one thing--investment is another, " said her guest. "I live on my money--that is, on other people's work. I am a basecapitalist, and you seem to me good material to invest in. So--take itor leave it--I've brought you an offer. "

She then produced from her hand bag some papers, and, from her caroutside, a large object carefully boxed, about the size and shape of aplate warmer. This being placed on the table before them, was uncovered, and proved to be a food container of a new model. 

"I had one made in Paris, " she explained, "and the rest copied here tosave paying duty. Lift it!"

They lifted it in amazement--it was so light. 

"Aluminum, " she said, proudly, "Silver plated--new process! And bambooat the corners you see. All lined and interlined with asbestos, rubberfittings for silver ware, plate racks, food compartments--see?"

She pulled out drawers, opened little doors, and rapidly laid out atable service for five. 

"It will hold food for five--the average family, you know. For largerorders you'll have to send more. I had to make _some_ estimate. "

"What lovely dishes!" said Diantha. 

"Aren't they! Aluminum, silvered! If your washers are careful they won'tget dented, and you can't break 'em. "

Mrs. Bell examined the case and all its fittings with eager attention. 

"It's the prettiest thing I ever saw, " she said. "Look, Diantha; here'sfor soup, here's for water--or wine if you want, all your knives andforks at the side, Japanese napkins up here. Its lovely, but--I shouldthink--expensive!"

Mrs. Weatherstone smiled. "I've had twenty-five of them made. They cost, with the fittings, $100 apiece, $2, 500. I will rent them to you, MissBell, at a rate of 10 per cent. Interest; only $250 a year!"

"It ought to take more, " said Mrs. Bell, "there'll be breakage andwaste. "

"You can't break them, I tell you, " said the cheerful visitor, "anddents can be smoothed out in any tin shop--you'll have to pay forit;--will that satisfy you?"

Diantha was looking at her, her eyes deep with gratitude. "I--you knowwhat I think of you!" she said. 

Mrs. Weatherstone laughed. "I'm not through yet, " she said. "Look at mynext piece of impudence!" This was only on paper, but the pictures wereamply illuminating. 

"I went to several factories, " she gleefully explained, "here andabroad. A Yankee firm built it. It's in my garage now!"

It was a light gasolene motor wagon, the body built like thoseold-fashioned moving wagons which were also used for excursions, whereinthe floor of the vehicle was rather narrow, and set low, and the seatsran lengthwise, widening out over the wheels; only here the wheels werelower, and in the space under the seats ran a row of lockers openingoutside. Mrs. Weatherstone smiled triumphantly. 

"Now, Diantha Bell, " she said, "here's something you haven't thoughtof, I do believe! This estimable vehicle will carry thirty people insideeasily, " and she showed them how each side held twelve, and turn-upseats accommodated six more; "and outside, "--she showed the lengthwisepicture--"it carries twenty-four containers. If you want to send allyour twenty-five at once, one can go here by the driver. 

"Now then. This is not an obligation, Miss Bell, it is another valuableinvestment. I'm having more made. I expect to have use for them in agood many places. This cost pretty near $3, 000, and you get it at thesame good interest, for $300 a year. What's more, if you are smartenough--and I don't doubt you are, --you can buy the whole thing oninstallments, same as you mean to with your furniture. "

Diantha was dumb, but her mother wasn't. She thanked Mrs. Weatherstonewith a hearty appreciation of her opportune help, but no less of herexcellent investment. 

"Don't be a goose, Diantha, " she said. "You will set up yourfood business in first class style, and I think you can carry itsuccessfully. But Mrs. Weatherstone's right; she's got a new investmenthere that'll pay her better than most others--and be a growing thing Ido believe. "

And still Diantha found it difficult to express her feelings. She hadlived under a good deal of strain for many months now, and this suddenopening out of her plans was a heavenly help indeed. 

Mrs. Weatherstone went around the table and sat by her. "Child, " saidshe, "you don't begin to realize what you've done for me--and forIsobel--and for ever so many in this town, and all over the world. Andbesides, don't you think anybody else can see your dream? We can't _do_it as you can, but we can see what it's going to mean, --and we'll helpif we can. You wouldn't grudge us that, would you?"

As a result of all this the cooked food delivery service was opened atonce. 

"It is true that the tourists are gone, mostly, " said Mrs. Weatherstone, as she urged it, "but you see there are ever so many residents who havemore trouble with servants in summer than they do in winter, and hate tohave a fire in the house, too. "

So Diantha's circulars had an addition, forthwith. 

These were distributed among the Orchardinians, setting their tongueswagging anew, as a fresh breeze stirs the eaves of the forest. 

The stealthy inroads of lunches and evening refreshments had beendeprecated already; this new kind of servant who wasn't a servant, but held her head up like anyone else ("They are as independentas--as--'salesladies, '" said one critic), was also viewed with alarm;but when even this domestic assistant was to be removed, and a squarecase of food and dishes substituted, all Archaic Orchardina washorrified. 

There were plenty of new minds in the place, however; enough to startDiantha with seven full orders and five partial ones. 

Her work at the club was now much easier, thanks to her mother'sassistance, to the smoother running of all the machinery with thepassing of time, and further to the fact that most of her girls were nowworking at summer resorts, for shorter hours and higher wages. They paidfor their rooms at the club still, but the work of the house was so muchlightened that each of the employees was given two weeks of vacation--onfull pay. 

The lunch department kept on a pretty regular basis from the patronageof resident business men, and the young manager--in her ambitiousmoments--planned for enlarging it in the winter. But during the summerher whole energies went to perfecting the _menus_ and the service of herfood delivery. 

Mrs. Porne was the very first to order. She had been waiting impatientlyfor a chance to try the plan, and, with her husband, had the firmestfaith in Diantha's capacity to carry it through. 

"We don't save much in money, " she explained to the eager Mrs. Ree, whohovered, fascinated, over the dangerous topic, "but we do in comfort, Ican tell you. You see I had two girls, paid them $12 a week; now I keepjust the one, for $6. My food and fuel for the four of us (I don't countthe babies either time--they remain as before), was all of $16, oftenmore. That made $28 a week. Now I pay for three meals a day, delivered, for three of us, $15 a week--with the nurse's wages, $21. Then I pay alaundress one day, $2, and her two meals, $. 50, making $23. 50. Then Ihave two maids, for an hour a day, to clean; $. 50 a day for six days, $3, and one maid Sunday, $. 25. $26. 75 in all. So we only make $1. 25. _But!_ there's another room! We have the cook's room for an extra guest;I use it most for a sewing room, though and the kitchen is a sort of daynursery now. The house seems as big again!"

"But the food?" eagerly inquired Mrs. Ree. "Is it as good as your own?Is it hot and tempting?"

Mrs. Ree was fascinated by the new heresy. As a staunch adherent of theold Home and Culture Club, and its older ideals, she disapproved of theundertaking, but her curiosity was keen about it. 

Mrs. Porne smiled patiently. "You remember Diantha Bell's cooking Iam sure, Mrs. Ree, " she said. "And Julianna used to cook for dinnerparties--when one could get her. My Swede was a very ordinary cook, asmost of these untrained girls are. Do take off your hat and have dinnerwith us, --I'll show you, " urged Mrs. Porne. 

"I--O I mustn't, " fluttered the little woman. "They'll expect me athome--and--surely your--supply--doesn't allow for guests?"

"We'll arrange all that by 'phone, " her hostess explained; and shepromptly sent word to the Ree household, then called up Union House andordered one extra dinner. 

"Is it--I'm dreadfully rude I know, but I'm _so_ interested! Isit--expensive?"

Mrs. Porne smiled. "Haven't you seen the little circular? Here's one, 'Extra meals to regular patrons 25 cents. ' And no more trouble to orderthan to tell a maid. "

Mrs. Ree had a lively sense of paltering with Satan as she sat down tothe Porne's dinner table. She had seen the delivery wagon drive to thedoor, had heard the man deposit something heavy on the back porch, andwas now confronted by a butler's tray at Mrs. Porne's left, whereonstood a neat square shining object with silvery panels and bambootrimmings. 

"It's not at all bad looking, is it?" she ventured. 

"Not bad enough to spoil one's appetite, " Mr. Porne cheerily agreed. 

"Open, Sesame! Now you know the worst. "

Mrs. Porne opened it, and an inner front was shown, with various smalldoors and drawers. 

"Do you know what is in it?" asked the guest. 

"No, thank goodness, I don't, " replied her hostess. "If there's anythingtiresome it is to order meals and always know what's coming! That's whatmen get so tired of at restaurants; what they hate so when their wivesask them what they want for dinner. Now I can enjoy my dinner at my owntable, just as if I was a guest. "

"It is--a tax--sometimes, " Mrs. Ree admitted, adding hastily, "But oneis glad to do it--to make home attractive. "

Mr. Porne's eyes sought his wife's, and love and contentment flashedbetween them, as she quietly set upon the table three silvery plates. 

"Not silver, surely!" said Mrs. Ree, lifting hers, "Oh, aluminum. "

"Aluminum, silver plated, " said Mr. Porne. "They've learned how to do itat last. It's a problem of weight, you see, and breakage. Aluminum isn'tpretty, glass and silver are heavy, but we all love silver, and there'sa pleasant sense of gorgeousness in this outfit. "

It did look rather impressive; silver tumblers, silver dishes, the wholedainty service--and so surprisingly light. 

"You see she knows that it is very important to please the eye as wellas the palate, " said Mr. Porne. "Now speaking of palates, let us allkeep silent and taste this soup. " They did keep silent in supremecontentment while the soup lasted. Mrs. Ree laid down her spoon with theair of one roused from a lovely dream. 

"Why--why--it's like Paris, " she said in an awed tone. 

"Isn't it?" Mr. Porne agreed, "and not twice alike in a month, I think. "

"Why, there aren't thirty kinds of soup, are there?" she urged. 

"I never thought there were when we kept servants, " said he. "Three wasabout their limit, and greasy, at that. "

Mrs. Porne slipped the soup plates back in their place and served themeat. 

"She does not give a fish course, does she?" Mrs. Ree observed. 

"Not at the table d'hote price, " Mrs. Porne answered. "We neverpretended to have a fish course ourselves--do you?" Mrs. Ree did not, and eagerly disclaimed any desire for fish. The meat was roast beef, thinly sliced, hot and juicy. 

"Don't you miss the carving, Mr. Porne?" asked the visitor. "I do solove to see a man at the head of his own table, carving. "

"I do miss it, Mrs. Ree. I miss it every day of my life with devoutthankfulness. I never was a good carver, so it was no pleasure to me toshow off; and to tell you the truth, when I come to the table, I liketo eat--not saw wood. " And Mr. Porne ate with every appearance ofsatisfaction. 

"We never get roast beef like this I'm sure, " Mrs. Ree admitted, "wecan't get it small enough for our family. "

"And a little roast is always spoiled in the cooking. Yes this is farbetter than we used to have, " agreed her hostess. 

Mrs. Ree enjoyed every mouthful of her meal. The soup was hot. The saladwas crisp and the ice cream hard. There was sponge cake, thick, light, with sugar freckles on the dark crust. The coffee was perfect and almostburned the tongue. 

"I don't understand about the heat and cold, " she said; and they showedher the asbestos-lined compartments and perfectly fitting places foreach dish and plate. Everything went back out of sight; small leavingsin a special drawer, knives and forks held firmly by rubber fittings, nothing that shook or rattled. And the case was set back by the doorwhere the man called for it at eight o'clock. 

"She doesn't furnish table linen?"

"No, there are Japanese napkins at the top here. We like our ownnapkins, and we didn't use a cloth, anyway. "

"And how about silver?"

"We put ours away. This plated ware they furnish is perfectly good. Wecould use ours of course if we wanted to wash it. Some do that and somehave their own case marked, and their own silver in it, but it's a gooddeal of risk, I think, though they are extremely careful. "

Mrs. Ree experienced peculiarly mixed feelings. As far as food went, shehad never eaten a better dinner. But her sense of Domestic Aestheticswas jarred. 

"It certainly tastes good, " she said. "Delicious, in fact. I amextremely obliged to you, Mrs. Porne, I'd no idea it could be sent sofar and be so good. And only five dollars a week, you say?"

"For each person, yes. "

"I don't see how she does it. All those cases and dishes, and thedelivery wagon!"

That was the universal comment in Orchardina circles as the monthspassed and Union House continued in existence--"I don't see how she doesit!"

CHAPTER XII. LIKE A BANYAN TREE

 The Earth-Plants spring up from beneath, The Air-Plants swing down from above, But the Banyan trees grow Both above and below, And one makes a prosperous grove. 

In the fleeting opportunities offered by the Caffeteria, and in longermoments, rather neatly planned for, with some remnants of an earlieringenuity, Mr. Thaddler contrived to become acquainted with Mrs. Bell. Diantha never quite liked him, but he won her mother's heart by frankpraise of the girl and her ventures. 

"I never saw a smarter woman in my life, " he said; "and no airs. I tellyou, ma'am, if there was more like her this world would be an easierplace to live in, and I can see she owes it all to you, ma'am. "

This the mother would never admit for a moment, but expatiated loyallyon the scientific mind of Mr. Henderson Bell, still of Jopalez. 

"I don't see how he can bear to let her out of his sight, " said Mr. Thaddler. 

"Of course he hated to let her go, " replied the lady. "We both did. Buthe is very proud of her now. "

"I guess there's somebody else who's proud of her, too, " he suggested. "Excuse me, ma'am, I don't mean to intrude, but we know there must be agood reason for your daughter keeping all Orchardina at a distance. Why, she could have married six times over in her first year here!"

"She does not wish to give up her work, " Mrs. Bell explained. 

"Of course not; and why should she? Nice, womanly business, I am sure. I hope nobody'd expect a girl who can keep house for a whole township tosettle down to bossing one man and a hired girl. "

In course of time he got a pretty clear notion of how matters stood, andmeditated upon it, seriously rolling his big cigar about between pursedlips. Mr. Thaddler was a good deal of a gossip, but this he kept tohimself, and did what he could to enlarge the patronage of Union House. 

The business grew. It held its own in spite of fluctuations, and aftera certain point began to spread steadily. Mrs. Bell's coming and Mr. Eltwood's ardent championship, together with Mr. Thaddler's, quietedthe dangerous slanders which had imperilled the place at one time. Theylingered, subterraneously, of course. People never forget slanders. Ascore of years after there were to be found in Orchardina folk who stillwhispered about dark allegations concerning Union House; and the papershad done some pretty serious damage; but the fame of good food, goodservice, cheapness and efficiency made steady headway. 

In view of the increase and of the plans still working in her mind, Diantha made certain propositions to Mr. Porne, and also to Mrs. Porne, in regard to a new, specially built club-house for the girls. 

"I have proved what they can do, with me to manage them, and want nowto prove that they can do it themselves, with any matron competentto follow my directions. The house need not be so expensive; one bigdining-room, with turn-up tables like those ironing-board seat-tables, you know--then they can dance there. Small reception room and office, hall, kitchen and laundry, and thirty bedrooms, forty by thirty, with an"ell" for the laundry, ought to do it, oughtn't it?"

Mrs. Porne agreed to make plans, and did so most successfully, and Mr. Porne found small difficulty in persuading an investor to put up such ahouse, which visibly could be used as a boarding-house or small hotel, if it failed in its first purpose. 

It was built of concrete, a plain simple structure, but fine inproportions and pleasantly colored. 

Diantha kept her plans to herself, as usual, but they grew so fast thatshe felt a species of terror sometimes, lest the ice break somewhere. 

"Steady, now!" she would say. "This is real business, just plainbusiness. There's no reason why I shouldn't succeed as well as FredHarvey. I will succeed. I am succeeding. "

She kept well, she worked hard, she was more than glad to have hermother with her; but she wanted something else, which seemed farther offthan ever. Her lover's picture hung on the wall of her bedroom, stood onher bureau, and (but this was a secret) a small one was carried in herbosom. 

Rather a grim looking young woman, Diantha, with the cares of the worldof house-keepers upon her proud young shoulders; with all the stirringhopes to be kept within bounds, all the skulking fears to be resisted, and the growing burden of a large affair to be carried steadily. 

But when she woke, in the brilliant California mornings, she would liestill a few moments looking at the face on the wall and the face on thebureau; would draw the little picture out from under her pillow and kissit, would say to herself for the thousandth time, "It is for him, too. "

She missed him, always. 

The very vigor of her general attitude, the continued strength withwhich she met the days and carried them, made it all the more needfulfor her to have some one with whom she could forget every care, everypurpose, every effort; some one who would put strong arms around her andcall her "Little Girl. " His letters were both a comfort and a pain. Hewas loyal, kind, loving, but always that wall of disapproval. He lovedher, he did not love her work. 

She read them over and over, hunting anew for the tender phrases, thethings which seemed most to feed and comfort her. She suffered not onlyfrom her loneliness, but from his; and most keenly from his sternlysuppressed longing for freedom and the work that belonged to him. 

"Why can't he see, " she would say to herself, "that if this succeeds, hecan do his work; that I can make it possible for him? And he won't letme. He won't take it from me. Why are men so proud? Is there anythingso ignominious about a woman that it is disgraceful to let one help you?And why can't he think at all about the others? It's not just us, it'sall people. If this works, men will have easier times, as well as women. Everybody can do their real work better with this old primitive businessonce set right. "

And then it was always time to get up, or time to go to bed, or time toattend to some of the numberless details of her affairs. 

She and her mother had an early lunch before the caffeteria opened, andwere glad of the afternoon tea, often held in a retired corner ofthe broad piazza. She sat there one hot, dusty afternoon, alone andunusually tired. The asphalted street was glaring and noisy, the crossstreet deep in soft dust, for months unwet. 

Failure had not discouraged her, but increasing success with all itsstimulus and satisfaction called for more and more power. Her mind wasbusy foreseeing, arranging, providing for emergencies; and then thewhole thing slipped away from her, she dropped her head upon her arm fora moment, on the edge of the tea table, and wished for Ross. 

From down the street and up the street at this moment, two men werecoming; both young, both tall, both good looking, both apparentlyapproaching Union House. One of them was the nearer, and his foot soonsounded on the wooden step. The other stopped and looked in a shopwindow. 

Diantha started up, came forward, --it was Mr. Eltwood. She had a vaguesense of disappointment, but received him cordially. He stood there, his hat off, holding her hand for a long moment, and gazing at herwith evident admiration. They turned and sat down in the shadow of thereed-curtained corner. 

The man at the shop window turned, too, and went away. 

Mr. Eltwood had been a warm friend and cordial supporter from the epochof the Club-splitting speech. He had helped materially in the slow, up-hill days of the girl's effort, with faith and kind words. He hadmet the mother's coming with most friendly advances, and Mrs. Bell foundherself much at home in his liberal little church. 

Diantha had grown to like and trust him much. 

"What's this about the new house, Miss Bell? Your mother says I mayknow. "

"Why not?" she said. "You have followed this thing from the first. Sugaror lemon? You see I want to disentangle the undertakings, set them upontheir own separate feet, and establish the practical working of eachone. "

"I see, " he said, "and 'day service' is not 'cooked food delivery. '"

"Nor yet 'rooms for entertainment', " she agreed. "We've got them alllabelled, mother and I. There's the 'd. S. ' and 'c. F. D. ' and 'r. F. E. ' and the 'p. P. ' That's picnics and parties. And more coming. "

"What, more yet? You'll kill yourself, Miss Bell. Don't go too fast. Youare doing a great work for humanity. Why not take a little more time?"

"I want to do it as quickly as I can, for reasons, " answered Diantha. 

Mr. Eltwood looked at her with tender understanding. "I don't want tointrude any further than you are willing to want me, " he said, "butsometimes I think that even you--strong as you are--would be better forsome help. "

She did not contradict him. Her hands were in her lap, her eyes on theworn boards of the piazza floor. She did not see a man pass on the otherside of the street, cast a searching glance across and walk quickly onagain. 

"If you were quite free to go on with your beautiful work, " said Mr. Eltwood slowly, "if you were offered heartiest appreciation, profoundrespect, as well as love, of course; would you object to marrying, MissBell?" asked in an even voice, as if it were a matter of metaphysicalinquiry. Mrs. Porne had told him of her theory as to a lover in the hometown, wishing to save him a long heart ache, but he was not sure of it, and he wanted to be. 

Diantha glanced quickly at him, and felt the emotion under his quietwords. She withdrew her eyes, looking quite the other way. 

"You are enough of a friend to know, Mr. Eltwood, " she said, "I ratherthought you did know. I am engaged. "

"Thank you for telling me; some one is greatly to be congratulated, "he spoke sincerely, and talked quietly on about less personal matters, holding his tea untasted till it was cold. 

"Do let me give you some that is hot, " she said at last, "and let methank you from my heart for the help and strength and comfort you havebeen to me, Mr. Eltwood. "

"I'm very glad, " he said; and again, "I am very glad. " "You may countupon anything I can do for you, always, " he continued. "I am proud to beyour friend. "

He held her hand once more for a moment, and went away with his head upand a firm step. To one who watched him go, he had almost a triumphantair, but it was not triumph, only the brave beginning of a hard fightand a long one. 

Then came Mrs. Bell, returned from a shopping trip, and sank down in awicker rocker, glad of the shade and a cup of tea. No, she didn't wantit iced. "Hot tea makes you cooler, " was her theory. 

"You don't look very tired, " said the girl. "Seems to me you getstronger all the time. "

"I do, " said her mother. "You don't realize, you can't realize, Diantha, what this means to me. Of course to you I am an old woman, a backnumber--one has to feel so about one's mother. I did when I married, andmy mother then was five years younger than I am now. "

"I don't think you old, mother, not a bit of it. You ought to havetwenty or thirty years of life before you, real life. "

"That's just what I'm feeling, " said Mrs. Bell, "as if I'd just begun tolive! This is so _different!_ There is a big, moving thing to work for. There is--why Diantha, you wouldn't believe what a comfort it is to meto feel that my work here is--really--adding to the profits!"

Diantha laughed aloud. 

"You dear old darling, " she said, "I should think it was! It is _making_the profits. "

"And it grows so, " her mother went on. "Here's this part so well assuredthat you're setting up the new Union House! Are you _sure_ about Mrs. Jessup, dear?"

"As sure as I can be of any one till I've tried a long time. She hasdone all I've asked her to here, and done it well. Besides, I mean tokeep a hand on it for a year or two yet--I can't afford to have thatfail. "

Mrs. Jessup was an imported aunt, belonging to one of the cleverestgirls, and Diantha had had her in training for some weeks. 

"Well, I guess she's as good as any you'd be likely to get, " Mrs. Belladmitted, "and we mustn't expect paragons. If this can't be done by anaverage bunch of working women the world over, it can't be done--that'sall!"

"It can be done, " said the girl, calmly. "It will be done. You see. "

"Mr. Thaddler says you could run any kind of a business you set yourhand to, " her mother went on. "He has a profound respect for yourabilities, Dina. "

"Seems to me you and Mr. Thaddler have a good deal to say to eachother, motherkins. I believe you enjoy that caffeteria desk, and all thecompliments you get. "

"I do, " said Mrs. Bell stoutly. "I do indeed! Why, I haven't seen somany men, to speak to, since--why, never in my life! And they are veryamusing--some of them. They like to come here--like it immensely. And Idon't wonder. I believe you'll do well to enlarge. "

Then they plunged into a discussion of the winter's plans. The dayservice department and its employment agency was to go on at the NewUnion House, with Mrs. Jessup as manager; the present establishment wasto be run as a hotel and restaurant, and the depot for the cooked fooddelivery. 

Mrs. Thorvald and her husband were installed by themselves in anothernew venture; a small laundry outside the town. This place employedseveral girls steadily, and the motor wagon found a new use betweenmeals, in collecting and delivering laundry parcels. 

"It simplifies it a lot--to get the washing out of the place and thegirls off my mind, " said Diantha. "Now I mean to buckle down and learnthe hotel business--thoroughly, and develop this cooked food delivery toperfection. "

"Modest young lady, " smiled her mother. "Where do you mean to stop--ifever?"

"I don't mean to stop till I'm dead, " Diantha answered; "but I don'tmean to undertake any more trades, if that is what you mean. You knowwhat I'm after--to get 'housework' on a business basis, that's all; andprove, prove, PROVE what a good business it is. There's the cleaningbranch--that's all started and going well in the day service. There'sthe washing--that's simple and easy. Laundry work's no mystery. Butthe food part is a big thing. It's an art, a science, a business, anda handicraft. I had the handicraft to start with; I'm learning thebusiness; but I've got a lot to learn yet in the science and art of it. "

"Don't do too much at once, " her mother urged. "You've got to cater topeople as they are. "

"I know it, " the girl agreed. "They must be led, step by step--thenatural method. It's a big job, but not too big. Out of all the womenwho have done housework for so many ages, surely it's not too much toexpect one to have a special genius for it!"

Her mother gazed at her with loving admiration. 

"That's just what you have, Dina--a special genius for housework. I wishthere were more of you!"

"There are plenty of me, mother dear, only they haven't come out. Assoon as I show 'em how to make the thing pay, you'll find that we havea big percentage of this kind of ability. It's all buried now in theoccasional 'perfect housekeeper. '

"But they won't leave their husbands, Dina. "

"They don't need to, " the girl answered cheerfully. "Some of themaren't married yet; some of them have lost their husbands, and _some_of them"--she said this a little bitterly--"have husbands who will bewilling to let their wives grow. "

"Not many, I'm afraid, " said Mrs. Bell, also with some gloom. 

Diantha lightened up again. "Anyhow, here you are, mother dear! Andfor this year I propose that you assume the financial management of thewhole business at a salary of $1, 000 'and found. ' How does that suityou?"

Mrs. Bell looked at her unbelievingly. 

"You can't afford it, Dina!"

"Oh, yes, I can--you know I can, because you've got the accounts. I'mgoing to make big money this year. "

"But you'll need it. This hotel and restaurant business may not dowell. "

"Now, mother, you _know_ we're doing well. Look here!" And Dianthaproduced her note-book. 

"Here's the little laundry place; its fittings come to so much, wagesso much, collection and delivery so much, supplies so much--and alreadyenough patronage engaged to cover. It will be bigger in winter, a lot, with transients, and this hotel to fall back on; ought to clear at leasta thousand a year. The service club don't pay me anything, of course;that is for the girls' benefit; but the food delivery is doing betterthan I dared hope. "

Mrs. Bell knew the figures better than Diantha, even, and they went overthem carefully again. If the winter's patronage held on to equal thesummer's--and the many transient residents ought to increase it--theywould have an average of twenty families a week to provide for--onehundred persons. 

The expenses were:

 Food for 100 at $250 a week. Per capita. $600 --- per year $13, 000

 Labor--delivery man. $600 Head cook. $600 Two assistant cooks. $1, 040 Three washers and packers. $1, 560 Office girl. $520 --- Per year $4, 320

 Rent, kitchen, office, etc. $500 Rent of motor. $300 Rent of cases. $250 Gasolene and repairs. $630 --- Per year $1, 680

 Total. $19, 000

"How do you make the gasolene and repairs as much as that?" asked Mrs. Bell. 

"It's margin, mother--makes it even money. It won't be so much, probably. "

The income was simple and sufficient. They charged $5. 00 a week percapita for three meals, table d'hote, delivered thrice daily. Frequentorders for extra meals really gave them more than they set down, but thehundred-person estimate amounted to $26, 000 a year. 

"Now, see, " said Diantha triumphantly; "subtract all that expense list(and it is a liberal one), and we have $7, 000 left. I can buy the carand the cases this year and have $1, 600 over! More; because if I do buythem I can leave off some of the interest, and the rent of kitchen andoffice comes to Union House! Then there's all of the extra orders. It'sgoing to pay splendidly, mother! It clears $70 a year per person. Nextyear it will clear a lot more. "

It did not take long to make Mrs. Bell admit that if the business wenton as it had been going Diantha would be able to pay her a salary ofa thousand dollars, and have five hundred left--from the food businessalone. 

There remained the hotel, with large possibilities. The present simplefurnishings were to be moved over to New Union House, and paid for bythe girls in due time. With new paint, paper, and furniture, the oldhouse would make a very comfortable place. 

"Of course, it's the restaurant mainly--these big kitchens and thecentral location are the main thing. The guests will be mostly tourists, I suppose. "

Diantha dwelt upon the prospect at some length; and even her cautiousmother had to admit that unless there was some setback the year had aprospect of large success. 

"How about all this new furnishing?" Mrs. Bell said suddenly. "How doyou cover that? Take what you've got ahead now?"

"Yes; there's plenty, " said Diantha. "You see, there is all Union Househas made, and this summer's profit on the cooked food--it's plenty. "

"Then you can't pay for the motor and cases as you planned, " her motherinsisted. 

"No, not unless the hotel and restaurant pays enough to make good. ButI don't _have_ to buy them the first year. If I don't, there is $5, 500leeway. "

"Yes, you are safe enough; there's over $4, 000 in the bank now, " Mrs. Bell admitted. "But, child, " she said suddenly, "your father!"

"Yes, I've thought of father, " said the girl, "and I mean to ask him tocome and live at the hotel. I think he'd like it. He could meet peopleand talk about his ideas, and I'm sure I'd like to have him. "

They talked much and long about this, till the evening settled aboutthem, till they had their quiet supper, and the girls came home to theirnoisy one; and late that evening, when all was still again, Diantha cameto the dim piazza corner once more and sat there quite alone. 

Full of hope, full of courage, sure of her progress--and aching withloneliness. 

She sat with her head in her hands, and to her ears came suddenly thesound of a familiar step--a well-known voice--the hands and the lips ofher lover. 

"Diantha!" He held her close. 

"Oh, Ross! Ross! Darling! Is it true? When did you come? Oh, I'm soglad! So _glad_ to see you!"

She was so glad that she had to cry a little on his shoulder, which heseemed to thoroughly enjoy. 

"I've good news for you, little girl, " he said. "Good news at last!Listen, dear; don't cry. There's an end in sight. A man has bought outmy shop. The incubus is off--I can _live_ now!"

He held his head up in a fine triumph, and she watched him adoringly. 

"Did you--was it profitable?" she asked. 

"It's all exchange, and some cash to boot. Just think! You know whatI've wanted so long--a ranch. A big one that would keep us all, and letme go on with my work. And, dear--I've got it! It's a big fruit ranch, with its own water--think of that! And a vegetable garden, too, andsmall fruit, and everything. And, what's better, it's all in goodrunning order, with a competent ranchman, and two Chinese who rent thevegetable part. And there are two houses on it--_two_. One for motherand the girls, and one for us!"

Diantha's heart stirred suddenly. 

"Where is it, dear?" she whispered. 

He laughed joyfully. "It's _here!"_ he said. "About eight miles or soout, up by the mountains; has a little canyon of its own--its own littlestream and reservoir. Oh, my darling! My darling!"

They sat in happy silence in the perfumed night. The strong arms werearound her, the big shoulder to lean on, the dear voice to call her"little girl. "

The year of separation vanished from their thoughts, and the long yearsof companionship opened bright and glorious before them. 

"I came this afternoon, " he said at length, "but I saw another mancoming. He got here first. I thought--"

"Ross! You didn't! And you've left me to go without you all thesehours!"

"He looked so confident when he went away that I was jealous, " Rossadmitted, "furiously jealous. And then your mother was here, and thenthose cackling girls. I wanted you--alone. "

And then he had her, alone, for other quiet, happy moments. She was soglad of him. Her hold upon his hand, upon his coat, was tight. 

"I don't know how I've lived without you, " she said softly. 

"Nor I, " said he. "I haven't lived. It isn't life--without you. Well, dearest, it needn't be much longer. We closed the deal this afternoon. Icame down here to see the place, and--incidentally--to see you!"

More silence. 

"I shall turn over the store at once. It won't take long to move andsettle; there's enough money over to do that. And the ranch pays, Diantha! It really _pays, _ and will carry us all. How long will it takeyou to get out of this?"

"Get out of--what?" she faltered. 

"Why, the whole abominable business you're so deep in here. Thank God, there's no shadow of need for it any more!"

The girl's face went white, but he could not see it. She would notbelieve him. 

"Why, dear, " she said, "if your ranch is as near as that it would beperfectly easy for me to come in to the business--with a car. I canafford a car soon. "

"But I tell you there's no need any more, " said he. "Don't youunderstand? This is a paying fruit ranch, with land rented to advantage, and a competent manager right there running it. It's simply changedowners. I'm the owner now! There's two or three thousand a year to bemade on it--has been made on it! There is a home for my people--a homefor us! Oh, my beloved girl! My darling! My own sweetheart! Surely youwon't refuse me now!"

Diantha's head swam dizzily. 

"Ross, " she urged, "you don't understand! I've built up a good businesshere--a real successful business. Mother is in it; father's to comedown; there is a big patronage; it grows. I can't give it up!"

"Not for me? Not when I can offer you a home at last? Not when I showyou that there is no longer any need of your earning money?" he saidhotly. 

"But, dear--dear!" she protested. "It isn't for the money; it is thework I want to do--it is my work! You are so happy now that you can doyour work--at last! This is mine!"

When he spoke again his voice was low and stern. 

"Do you mean that you love--your work--better than you love me?"

"No! It isn't that! That's not fair!" cried the girl. "Do you love yourwork better than you love me? Of course not! You love both. So do I. Can't you see? Why should I have to give up anything?"

"You do not have to, " he said patiently. "I cannot compel you to marryme. But now, when at last--after these awful years--I can really offeryou a home--you refuse!"

"I have not refused, " she said slowly. 

His voice lightened again. 

"Ah, dearest! And you will not! You will marry me?"

"I will marry you, Ross!"

"And when? When, dearest?"

"As soon as you are ready. "

"But--can you drop this at once?"

"I shall not drop it. "

Her voice was low, very low, but clear and steady. 

He rose to his feet with a muffled exclamation, and walked the length ofthe piazza and back. 

"Do you realize that you are saying no to me, Diantha?"

"You are mistaken, dear. I have said that I will marry you whenever youchoose. But it is you who are saying, 'I will not marry a woman with abusiness. '"

"This is foolishness!" he said sharply. "No man--that is a man--wouldmarry a woman and let her run a business. "

"You are mistaken, " she answered. "One of the finest men I ever knew hasasked me to marry him--and keep on with my work!"

"Why didn't you take him up?"

"Because I didn't love him. " She stopped, a sob in her voice, and hecaught her in his arms again. 

It was late indeed when he went away, walking swiftly, with a blackrebellion in his heart; and Diantha dragged herself to bed. 

She was stunned, deadened, exhausted; torn with a desire to run afterhim and give up--give up anything to hold his love. But something, partly reason and partly pride, kept saying within her: "I have notrefused him; he has refused me!"

CHAPTER XIII. ALL THIS. 

 They laid before her conquering feet The spoils of many lands; Their crowns shone red upon her head Their scepters in her hands. 

 She heard two murmuring at night, Where rose-sweet shadows rest; And coveted the blossom red He laid upon her breast. 

When Madam Weatherstone shook the plentiful dust of Orchardina fromher expensive shoes, and returned to adorn the more classic groves ofPhiladelphia, Mrs. Thaddler assumed to hold undisputed sway as a socialleader. 

The Social Leader she meant to be; and marshalled her forces to thatend. She Patronized here, and Donated there; revised her visiting listwith rigid exclusiveness; secured an Eminent Professor and aNoted Writer as visitors, and gave entertainments of almost Romanmagnificence. 

Her husband grew more and more restive under the rising tide of socialexactions in dress and deportment; and spent more and more time behindhis fast horses, or on the stock-ranch where he raised them. As aneighbor and fellow ranchman, he scraped acquaintance with Ross Warden, and was able to render him many small services in the process ofsettling. 

Mrs. Warden remembered his visit to Jopalez, and it took her some timeto rearrange him in her mind as a person of wealth and standing. Havingso rearranged him, on sufficient evidence, she and her daughters becamemost friendly, and had hopes of establishing valuable acquaintance inthe town. "It's not for myself I care, " she would explain to Ross, every day in the week and more on Sundays, "but for the girls. In thatdreadful Jopalez there was absolutely _no_ opportunity for them; buthere, with horses, there is no reason we should not have friends. Youmust consider your sisters, Ross! Do be more cordial to Mr. Thaddler. "

But Ross could not at present be cordial to anybody. His unexpected goodfortune, the freedom from hated cares, and chance to work out his mightytheories on the faithful guinea-pig, ought to have filled his soul withjoy; but Diantha's cruel obstinacy had embittered his cup of joy. Hecould not break with her; she had not refused him, and it was difficultin cold blood to refuse her. 

He had stayed away for two whole weeks, in which time the guinea-pigsnibbled at ease and Diantha's work would have suffered except for hermother's extra efforts. Then he went to see her again, miserable butstubborn, finding her also miserable and also stubborn. They argued tillthere was grave danger of an absolute break between them; then droppedthe subject by mutual agreement, and spent evenings of unsatisfyingeffort to talk about other things. 

Diantha and her mother called on Mrs. Warden, of course, admiring theglorious view, the sweet high air, and the embowered loveliness of thetwo ranch houses. Ross drew Diantha aside and showed her "theirs"--alovely little wide-porched concrete cottage, with a red-tiled roof, andheavy masses of Gold of Ophir and Banksia roses. 

He held her hand and drew her close to him. 

He kissed her when they were safe inside, and murmured: "Come, darling--won't you come and be my wife?"

"I will, Ross--whenever you say--but--!" She would not agree to give upher work, and he flung away from her in reckless despair. Mrs. Wardenand the girls returned the call as a matter of duty, but came no more;the mother saying that she could not take her daughters to a ServantGirls' Club. 

And though the Servant Girls' Club was soon removed to its new quartersand Union House became a quiet, well-conducted hotel, still the twofamilies saw but little of each other. 

Mrs. Warden naturally took her son's side, and considered Diantha anunnatural monster of hard-heartedness. 

The matter sifted through to the ears of Mrs. Thaddler, who rejoiced init, and called upon Mrs. Warden in her largest automobile. As a motherwith four marriageable daughters, Mrs. Warden was delighted to acceptand improve the acquaintance, but her aristocratic Southern soul wasinwardly rebellious at the ancestorlessness and uncultured moneyed prideof her new friend. 

"If only Madam Weatherstone had stayed!" she would complain to herdaughters. "She had Family as well as Wealth. "

"There's young Mrs. Weatherstone, mother--" suggested Dora. 

"A nobody!" her mother replied. "She has the Weatherstone money, ofcourse, but no Position; and what little she has she is losing byher low tastes. She goes about freely with Diantha Bell--her ownhousekeeper!"

"She's not her housekeeper now, mother--"

"Well, it's all the same! She _was!_ And a mere general servant beforethat! And now to think that when Ross is willing to overlook it all andmarry her, she won't give it up!"

They were all agreed on this point, unless perhaps that the youngest hadher inward reservations. Dora had always liked Diantha better than hadthe others. 

Young Mrs. Weatherstone stayed in her big empty house for a while, andas Mrs. Warden said, went about frequently with Diantha Bell. She likedMrs. Bell, too--took her for long stimulating rides in her comfortablecar, and insisted that first one and then the other of them should havea bit of vacation at her seashore home before the winter's work grew tooheavy. 

With Mrs. Bell she talked much of how Diantha had helped the town. 

"She has no idea of the psychic effects, Mrs. Bell, " said she. "Shesees the business, and she has a great view of all it is going to dofor women to come; but I don't think she realizes how much she isdoing right now for women here--and men, too. There were my friendsthe Pornes; they were 'drifting apart, ' as the novels have it--and nowonder. Isabel was absolutely no good as a housekeeper; he naturallydidn't like it--and the baby made it all the worse; she pined for herwork, you see, and couldn't get any time for it. Now they are as happyas can be--and it's just Diantha Bell's doings. The housework is offIsabel's shoulders. 

"Then there are the Wagrams, and the Sheldons, and the Brinks--and everso many more--who have told me themselves that they are far happier thanthey ever were before--and can live more cheaply. She ought to be thehappiest girl alive!"

Mrs. Bell would agree to this, and quite swelled with happiness andpride; but Mrs. Weatherstone, watching narrowly, was not satisfied. 

When she had Diantha with her she opened fire direct. "You ought to bethe happiest, proudest, most triumphant woman in the world!" she said. "You're making oodles of money, your whole thing's going well, and lookat your mother--she's made over!"

Diantha smiled and said she was happy; but her eyes would stray off tothe very rim of the ocean; her mouth set in patient lines that were notin the least triumphant. 

"Tell me about it, my friend, " said her hostess. "Is it that he won'tlet you keep on with the business?"

Diantha nodded. 

"And you won't give it up to marry him?"

"No, " said Diantha. "No. Why should I? I'd marry him--to-morrow!" Sheheld one hand with the other, tight, but they both shook a little. "I'dbe glad to. But I will not give up my work!"

"You look thin, " said Mrs. Weatherstone. 

"Yes--"

"Do you sleep well?"

"No--not very. "

"And I can see that you don't eat as you ought to. Hm! Are you going tobreak down?"

"No, " said Diantha, "I am not going to break down. I am doing what isright, and I shall go on. It's a little hard at first--having him sonear. But I am young and strong and have a great deal to do--I shall doit. "

And then Mrs. Weatherstone would tell her all she knew of the intensesatisfaction of the people she served, and pleasant stories about thegirls. She bought her books to read and such gleanings as she found inforeign magazines on the subject of organized house-service. 

Not only so, but she supplied the Orchardina library with a specialbibliography on the subject, and induced the new Woman's Club to takeup a course of reading in it, so that there gradually filtered into theOrchardina mind a faint perception that this was not the freak of aneccentric individual, but part of an inevitable business development, going on in various ways in many nations. 

As the winter drew on, Mrs. Weatherstone whisked away again, but kept awarm current of interest in Diantha's life by many letters. 

Mr. Bell came down from Jopalez with outer reluctance but innersatisfaction. He had rented his place, and Susie had three babies now. Henderson, Jr. , had no place for him, and to do housework for himselfwas no part of Mr. Bell's plan. 

In Diantha's hotel he had a comfortable room next his wife's, and acapacious chair in the firelit hall in wet weather, or on the shadedpiazza in dry. The excellent library was a resource to him; he foundsome congenial souls to talk with; and under the new stimulus succeededat last in patenting a small device that really worked. With this, andhis rent, he felt inclined to establish a "home of his own, " and thesoul of Mrs. Bell sank within her. Without allowing it to come to anissue between them, she kept the question open for endless discussion;and Mr. Bell lived on in great contentment under the impression thathe was about to move at almost any time. To his friends and cronies hedilated with pride on his daughter's wonderful achievements. 

"She's as good as a boy!" he would declare. "Women nowadays seem todo anything they want to!" And he rigidly paid his board bill with aflourish. 

Meanwhile the impressive gatherings at Mrs. Thaddler's, and thehumbler tea and card parties of Diantha's friends, had a new topic as ashuttlecock. 

A New York company had bought one of the largest and finest blocks intown--the old Para place--and was developing it in a manner hithertounseen. The big, shabby, neglected estate began to turn into sucha fairyland as only southern lands can know. The old live-oaks wereuntouched; the towering eucalyptus trees remained in ragged majesty; butan army of workmen was busy under guidance of a master of beauty. 

One large and lovely building rose, promptly dubbed a hotel by theunwilling neighbors; others, smaller, showed here and there among thetrees; and then a rose-gray wall of concrete ran around the whole, high, tantalizing, with green boughs and sweet odors coming over it. Those whowent in reported many buildings, and much activity. But, when the wallwas done, and each gate said "No admittance except on business, " thenthe work of genii was imagined, and there was none to contradict. 

It was a School of Theosophy; it was a Christian Science College; it wasa Free-Love Colony; it was a Secret Society; it was a thousand wonders. 

"Lot of little houses and one big one, " the employees said whenquestioned. 

"Hotel and cottages, " the employers said when questioned. 

They made no secret of it, they were too busy; but the town wasunsatisfied. Why a wall? What did any honest person want of a wall? Yetthe wall cast a pleasant shadow; there were seats here and there betweenbuttresses, and, as the swift California season advanced, roses andoleanders nodded over the top, and gave hints of beauty and richnessmore subtly stimulating than all the open glory of the low-hedgedgardens near. 

Diantha's soul was stirred with secret envy. Some big concern wasabout to carry out her dream, or part of it--perhaps to be a huge andoverflowing rival. Her own work grew meantime, and flourished as well asshe could wish. 

The food-delivery service was running to its full capacity; the girlsgot on very well under Mrs. Jessup, and were delighted to have a houseof their own with the parlors and piazzas all to themselves, and agarden to sit in as well. If this depleted their ranks by marriage, itdid not matter now, for there was a waiting list in training all thetime. 

Union House kept on evenly and profitably, and Diantha was beginning tofeel safe and successful; but the years looked long before her. 

She was always cheered by Mrs. Weatherstone's letters; and Mrs. Pornecame to see her, and to compare notes over their friend's success. ForMrs. Weatherstone had been presented at Court--at more than one court, in fact; and Mrs. Weatherstone had been proposed to by a Duke--and hadrefused him! Orchardina well-nigh swooned when this was known. 

She had been studying, investigating, had become known in scientific aswell as social circles, and on her way back the strenuous upper layer ofNew York Society had also made much of her. Rumors grew of her exquisitecostumes, of her unusual jewels, of her unique entertainments, of herpopularity everywhere she went. 

Other proposals, of a magnificent nature, were reported, with moremagnificent refusals; and Orchardina began to be very proud of youngMrs. Weatherstone and to wish she would come back. 

She did at last, bringing an Italian Prince with her, and a HochGeborene German Count also, who alleged they were travelling to studythe country, but who were reputed to have had a duel already on thebeautiful widow's account. 

All this was long-drawn gossip but bore some faint resemblance to thefacts. Viva Weatherstone at thirty was a very different woman front thepale, sad-eyed girl of four years earlier. And when the great house onthe avenue was arrayed in new magnificence, and all Orchardina--thatdared--had paid its respects to her, she opened the season, as it were, with a brilliant dinner, followed by a reception and ball. 

All Orchardina came--so far as it had been invited. There was thePrince, sure enough--a pleasant, blue-eyed young man. And there was theCount, bearing visible evidence of duels a-plenty in earlier days. And there was Diantha Bell--receiving, with Mrs. Porne and Mrs. Weatherstone. All Orchardina stared. Diantha had been at thedinner--that was clear. And now she stood there in her soft, darkevening dress, the knot of golden acacias nestling against the blacklace at her bosom, looking as fair and sweet as if she had never had acare in her life. 

Her mother thought her the most beautiful thing she had ever seen; andher father, though somewhat critical, secretly thought so, too. 

Mrs. Weatherstone cast many a loving look at the tall girl beside herin the intervals of "Delighted to see you's, " and saw that her doubleburden had had no worse effect than to soften the lines of the mouth andgive a hint of pathos to the clear depths of her eyes. 

The foreign visitors were much interested in the young Amazon ofIndustry, as the Prince insisted on calling her; and even the GermanCount for a moment forgot his ancestors in her pleasant practical talk. 

Mrs. Weatherstone had taken pains to call upon the Wardens--claiming aconnection, if not a relationship, and to invite them all. And asthe crowd grew bigger and bigger, Diantha saw Mrs. Warden at lastapproaching with her four daughters--and no one else. She greeted thempolitely and warmly; but Mrs. Weatherstone did more. 

Holding them all in a little group beside her, she introduced her noblevisitors to them; imparted the further information that their brotherwas _fiance_ to Miss Bell. "I don't see him, " she said, looking about. "He will come later, of course. Ah, Miss Madeline! How proud you allmust feel of your sister-in-law to be!"

Madeline blushed and tried to say she was. 

"Such a remarkable young lady!" said the Count to Adeline. "You willadmire, envy, and imitate! Is it not so?"

"Your ladies of America have all things in your hands, " said thePrince to Miss Cora. "To think that she has done so much, and is yet soyoung--and so beautiful!"

"I know you're all as proud as you can be, " Mrs. Weatherstone continuedto Dora. "You see, Diantha has been heard of abroad. "

They all passed on presently, as others came; but Mrs. Warden's head wasreeling. She wished she could by any means get at Ross, and _make_ himcome, which he had refused to do. 

"I can't, mother, " he had said. "You go--all of you. Take the girls. I'll call for you at twelve--but I won't go in. "

Mr. And Mrs. Thaddler were there--but not happy. She was not, at least, and showed it; he was not until an idea struck him. He dodged softlyout, and was soon flying off, at dangerous speed over the moon-whitecountry roads. 

He found Ross, dressed and ready, sulking blackly on his shadowy porch. 

"Come and take a spin while you wait, " said Mr. Thaddler. 

"Thanks, I have to go in town later. "

"I'll take you in town. "

"Thank you, but I have to take the horses in and bring out my mother andthe girls. "

"I'll bring you all out in the car. Come on--it's a great night. "

So Ross rather reluctantly came. 

He sat back on the luxurious cushions, his arms folded sternly, hisbrows knit, and the stout gentleman at his side watched him shrewdly. 

"How does the ranch go?" he asked. 

"Very well, thank you, Mr. Thaddler. "

"Them Chinks pay up promptly?"

"As prompt as the month comes round. Their rent is a very valuable partof the estate. "

"Yes, " Mr. Thaddler pursued. "They have a good steady market for theirstuff. And the chicken man, too. Do you know who buys 'em?"

Ross did not. Did not greatly care, he intimated. 

"I should think you'd be interested--you ought to--it's Diantha Bell. "

Ross started, but said nothing. 

"You see, I've taken a great interest in her proposition ever since shesprung it on us, " Mr. Thaddler confided. "She's got the goods all right. But there was plenty against her here--you know what women are! And Imade up my mind the supplies should be good and steady, anyhow. Shehad no trouble with her grocery orders; that was easy. Meat I couldn'thandle--except indirectly--a little pressure, maybe, here and there. "And he chuckled softly. "But this ranch I bought on purpose. "

Ross turned as if he had been stung. 

"You!" he said. 

"Yes, me. Why not? It's a good property. I got it all fixed right, andthen I bought your little upstate shop--lock, stock and barrel--and gaveyou this for it. A fair exchange is no robbery. Though it would be niceto have it all in the family, eh?"

Ross was silent for a few turbulent moments, revolving this far frompleasing information. 

"What'd I do it for?" continued the unasked benefactor. "What do you_think_ I did it for? So that brave, sweet little girl down here couldhave her heart's desire. She's established her business--she's provedher point--she's won the town--most of it; and there's nothing on earthto make her unhappy now but your pigheadedness! Young man, I tell youyou're a plumb fool!"

One cannot throw one's host out of his own swift-flying car; nor is itwise to jump out one's self. 

"Nothing on earth between you but your cussed pride!" Mr. Thaddlerremorselessly went on. "This ranch is honestly yours--by a square deal. Your Jopalez business was worth the money--you ran it honestly andextended the trade. You'd have made a heap by it if you could haveunbent a little. Gosh! I limbered up that store some in twelve months!"And the stout man smiled reminiscently. 

Ross was still silent. 

"And now you've got what you wanted--thanks to her, mind you, thanks toher!--and you ain't willing to let her have what she wants!"

The young man moistened his lips to speak. 

"You ain't dependent on her in any sense--I don't mean that. You earnedthe place all right, and I don't doubt you'll make good, both in abusiness way and a scientific way, young man. But why in Hades youcan't let her be happy, too, is more'n I can figure! Guess you get yournotions from two generations back--and some!"

Ross began, stumblingly. "I did not know I was indebted to you, Mr. Thaddler. "

"You're not, young man, you're not! I ran that shop of yours ayear--built up the business and sold it for more than I paid for this. So you've no room for heroics--none at all. What I want you to realizeis that you're breaking the heart of the finest woman I ever saw. Youcan't bend that girl--she'll never give up. A woman like that has gotmore things to do than just marry! But she's pining for you all thesame. 

"Here she is to-night, receiving with Mrs. Weatherstone--with thoseBannerets, Dukes and Earls around her--standing up there like a Princessherself--and her eyes on the door all the time--and tears in 'em, Icould swear--because you don't come!"

*****

They drew up with a fine curve before the carriage gate. 

"I'll take 'em all home--they won't be ready for some time yet, " saidMr. Thaddler. "And if you two would like this car I'll send for theother one. "

Ross shook hands with him. "You are very kind, Mr. Thaddler, " he said. "I am obliged to you. But I think we will walk. "

Tall and impressive, looking more distinguished in a six-year-oldevening suit than even the Hoch Geborene in his uniform, he came atlast, and Diantha saw him the moment he entered; saw, too, a new lightin his eyes. 

He went straight to her. And Mrs. Weatherstone did not lay it up againsthim that he had but the briefest of words for his hostess. 

"Will you come?" he said. "May I take you home--now?"

She went with him, without a word, and they walked slowly home, by faroutlying paths, and long waits on rose-bowered seats they knew. 

The moon filled all the world with tender light and the orange blossomsflooded the still air with sweetness. 

"Dear, " said he, "I have been a proud fool--I am yet--but I have come tosee a little clearer. I do not approve of your work--I cannot approveof it--but will you forgive me for that and marry me? I cannot live anylonger without you?"

"Of course I will, " said Diantha. 

CHAPTER XIV. AND HEAVEN BESIDE. 

They were married while the flowers were knee-deep over the sunny slopesand mesas, and the canyons gulfs of color and fragrance, and went fortheir first moon together to a far high mountain valley hidden amongwooded peaks, with a clear lake for its central jewel. 

A month of heaven; while wave on wave of perfect rest andworld-forgetting oblivion rolled over both their hearts. 

They swam together in the dawn-flushed lake, seeing the morning mistsfloat up from the silver surface, breaking the still reflection of thicktrees and rosy clouds, rejoicing in the level shafts of forest filteredsunlight. They played and ran like children, rejoiced over their picnicmeals; lay flat among the crowding flowers and slept under the tenderstarlight. 

"I don't see, " said her lover, "but that my strenuous Amazon is just asmuch a woman as--as any woman!"

"Who ever said I wasn't?" quoth Diantha demurely. 

A month of perfect happiness. It was so short it seemed but a moment;so long in its rich perfection that they both agreed if life brought nofurther joy this was Enough. 

Then they came down from the mountains and began living. 

*****

Day service is not so easily arranged on a ranch some miles from town. They tried it for a while, the new runabout car bringing out a girl inthe morning early, and taking Diantha in to her office. 

But motor cars are not infallible; and if it met with any accident therewas delay at both ends, and more or less friction. 

Then Diantha engaged a first-class Oriental gentleman, well recommendedby the "vegetable Chinaman, " on their own place. This was extremelysatisfactory; he did the work well, and was in all ways reliable;but there arose in the town a current of malicious criticism andprotest--that she "did not live up to her principles. "

To this she paid no attention; her work was now too well planted, tooincreasingly prosperous to be weakened by small sneers. 

Her mother, growing plumper now, thriving continuously in her newlines of work, kept the hotel under her immediate management, anddid bookkeeping for the whole concern. New Union Home ran itself, andarticles were written about it in magazines; so that here and therein other cities similar clubs were started, with varying success. Therestaurant was increasingly popular; Diantha's cooks were highly skilledand handsomely paid, and from the cheap lunch to the expensive banquetthey gave satisfaction. 

But the "c. F. D. " was the darling of her heart, and it prosperedexceedingly. "There is no advertisement like a pleased customer, " andher pleased customers grew in numbers and in enthusiasm. Family afterfamily learned to prize the cleanliness and quiet, the odorlessness andflylessness of a home without a kitchen, and their questioning guestswere converted by the excellent of the meals. 

Critical women learned at last that a competent cook can really producebetter food than an incompetent one; albeit without the sanctity of thehome. 

"Sanctity of your bootstraps!" protested one irascible gentleman. "Suchtalk is all nonsense! I don't want _sacred_ meals--I want good ones--andI'm getting them, at last!"

"We don't brag about 'home brewing' any more, " said another, "or'home tailoring, ' or 'home shoemaking. ' Why all this talk about 'homecooking'?"

What pleased the men most was not only the good food, but its clock-workregularity; and not only the reduced bills but the increased health andhappiness of their wives. Domestic bliss increased in Orchardina, andthe doctors were more rigidly confined to the patronage of tourists. 

Ross Warden did his best. Under the merciless friendliness of Mr. Thaddler he had been brought to see that Diantha had a right to do thisif she would, and that he had no right to prevent her; but he did notlike it any the better. 

When she rolled away in her little car in the bright, sweet mornings, alight went out of the day for him. He wanted her there, in the home--hishome--his wife--even when he was not in it himself. And in thisparticular case it was harder than for most men, because he was in thehouse a good deal, in his study, with no better company than a politeChinaman some distance off. 

It was by no means easy for Diantha, either. To leave him tugged ather heart-strings, as it did at his; and if he had to struggle withinherited feelings and acquired traditions, still more was she besetwith an unexpected uprising of sentiments and desires she had neverdreamed of feeling. 

With marriage, love, happiness came an overwhelming instinct ofservice--personal service. She wanted to wait on him, loved to do it;regarded Wang Fu with positive jealousy when he brought in the coffeeand Ross praised it. She had a sense of treason, of neglected duty, asshe left the flower-crowned cottage, day by day. 

But she left it, she plunged into her work, she schooled herselfreligiously. 

"Shame on you!" she berated herself. "Now--_now_ that you've goteverything on earth--to weaken! You could stand unhappiness; can't youstand happiness?" And she strove with herself; and kept on with herwork. 

After all, the happiness was presently diluted by the pressure of thisblank wall between them. She came home, eager, loving, delighted tobe with him again. He received her with no complaint or criticism, butalways an unspoken, perhaps imagined, sense of protest. She was full ofloving enthusiasm about his work, and he would dilate upon his harassedguinea-pigs and their development with high satisfaction. 

But he never could bring himself to ask about her labors with anygenuine approval; she was keenly sensitive to his dislike for thesubject, and so it was ignored between them, or treated by him in a veinof humor with which he strove to cover his real feeling. 

When, before many months were over, the crowning triumph of her effortrevealed itself, her joy and pride held this bitter drop--he did notsympathize--did not approve. Still, it was a great glory. 

The New York Company announced the completion of their work and the_Hotel del las Casas_ was opened to public inspection. "House of theHouses! That's a fine name!" said some disparagingly; but, at anyrate, it seemed appropriate. The big estate was one rich garden, morepicturesque, more dreamily beautiful, than the American commercial mindwas usually able to compass, even when possessed of millions. The hotelof itself was a pleasure palace--wholly unostentatious, full of gaietyand charm, offering lovely chambers for guests and residents, and everyopportunity for healthful amusement. There was the rare luxury of a bigswimming-pool; there were billiard rooms, card rooms, reading rooms, lounging rooms and dancing rooms of satisfying extent. 

Outside there were tennis-courts, badminton, roque, even croquet; andthe wide roof was a garden of Babylon, a Court of the Stars, with viewsof purple mountains, fair, wide valley and far-flashing rim of sea. Around it, each in its own hedged garden, nestled "Las Casas"--theHouses--twenty in number, with winding shaded paths, groups of raretrees, a wilderness of flowers, between and about them. In one cornerwas a playground for children--a wall around this, that they mightshout in freedom; and the nursery thereby gave every provision for thehappiness and safety of the little ones. 

The people poured along the winding walls, entered the pretty cottages, were much impressed by a little flock of well-floored tents in anothercorner, but came back with Ohs! and Ahs! of delight to the largebuilding in the Avenue. 

Diantha went all over the place, inch by inch, her eyes widening withadmiration; Mr. And Mrs. Porne and Mrs. Weatherstone with her. Sheenjoyed the serene, well-planned beauty of the whole; approved heartilyof the cottages, each one a little different, each charming in itsquiet privacy, admired the plentiful arrangements for pleasure and gayassociation; but her professional soul blazed with enthusiasm over thegreat kitchens, clean as a hospital, glittering in glass and copper andcool tiling, with the swift, sure electric stove. 

The fuel all went into a small, solidly built power house, and came outin light and heat and force for the whole square. 

Diantha sighed in absolute appreciation. 

"Fine, isn't it?" said Mr. Porne. 

"How do you like the architecture?" asked Mrs. Porne. 

"What do you think of my investment?" said Mrs. Weatherstone. Dianthastopped in her tracks and looked from one to the other of them. 

"Fact. I control the stock--I'm president of the Hotel del las CasasCompany. Our friends here have stock in it, too, and more that you don'tknow. We think it's going to be a paying concern. But if you can makeit go, my dear, as I think you will, you can buy us all out and own thewhole outfit!"

It took some time to explain all this, but the facts were visibleenough. 

"Nothing remarkable at all, " said Mrs. Weatherstone. "Here's Astor withthree big hotels on his hands--why shouldn't I have one to play with?And I've got to employ _somebody_ to manage it!"

*****

Within a year of her marriage Diantha was at the head of this pleasingCentre of Housekeeping. She kept the hotel itself so that it was a joyto all its patrons; she kept the little houses homes of pure delight forthose who were so fortunate as to hold them; and she kept up her "c. F. D. " business till it grew so large she had to have quite a fleet ofdelivery wagons. 

Orchardina basked and prospered; its citizens found their homes happierand less expensive than ever before, and its citizenesses began to wakeup and to do things worth while. 

*****

Two years, and there was a small Ross Warden born. 

She loved it, nursed it, and ran her business at long range for somesix months. But then she brought nurse and child to the hotel with her, placed them in the cool, airy nursery in the garden, and varied her busyday with still hours by herself--the baby in her arms. 

Back they came together before supper, and found unbroken joy and peacein the quiet of home; but always in the background was the current ofRoss' unspoken disapproval. 

Three years, four years. 

There were three babies now; Diantha was a splendid woman of thirty, handsome and strong, pre-eminently successful--and yet, there were timeswhen she found it in her heart to envy the most ordinary people wholoved and quarreled and made up in the little outlying ranch housesalong the road; they had nothing between them, at least. 

Meantime in the friendly opportunities of Orchardina society, added toby the unexampled possibilities of Las Casas (and they did not scornthis hotel nor Diantha's position in it), the three older Miss Wardenshad married. Two of them preferred "the good old way, " but one tried the"d. S. " and the "c. F. D. " and liked them well. 

Dora amazed and displeased her family, as soon as she was of age, byfrankly going over to Diantha's side and learning bookkeeping. Shebecame an excellent accountant and bade fair to become an expert managersoon. 

Ross had prospered in his work. It may be that the element ofdissatisfaction in his married life spurred him on, while the unusualopportunities of his ranch allowed free effort. He had always held thatthe "non-transmissability of acquired traits" was not established byany number of curtailed mice or crop-eared rats. "A mutilation is notan acquired trait, " he protested. "An acquired trait is one gained byexercise; it modifies the whole organism. It must have an effect on therace. We expect the sons of a line of soldiers to inherit their fathers'courage--perhaps his habit of obedience--but not his wooden leg. "

To establish his views he selected from a fine family of guinea-pigs twopair; set the one, Pair A, in conditions of ordinary guinea-pig bliss, and subjected the other, Pair B, to a course of discipline. They weretrained to run. They, and their descendants after them, pair followingon pair; first with slow-turning wheels as in squirrel cages, the wheelinexorably going, machine-driven, and the luckless little gluttonshaving to move on, for gradually increasing periods of time, atgradually increasing speeds. Pair A and their progeny were shelteredand fed, but the rod was spared; Pair B were as the guests at"Muldoon's"--they had to exercise. With scientific patience andingenuity, he devised mechanical surroundings which made them jumpincreasing spaces, which made them run always a little faster and alittle farther; and he kept a record as carefully as if these littlesheds were racing stables for a king. 

Several centuries of guinea-pig time went by; generation aftergeneration of healthy guinea-pigs passed under his modifying hands;and after some five years he had in one small yard a fine group of thedescendants of his gall-fed pair, and in another the offspring ofthe trained ones; nimble, swift, as different from the first as therazor-backed pig of the forest from the fatted porkers in the sty. He set them to race--the young untrained specimens of these distantcousins--and the hare ran away from the tortoise completely. 

Great zoologists and biologists came to see him, studied, fingered, poked, and examined the records; argued and disbelieved--and saw themrun. 

"It is natural selection, " they said. "It profited them to run. "

"Not at all, " said he. "They were fed and cared for alike, with no gainfrom running. "

"It was artificial selection, " they said. "You picked out the speediestfor your training. "

"Not at all, " said he. "I took always any healthy pair from the trainedparents and from the untrained ones--quite late in life, you understand, as guinea-pigs go. "

Anyhow, there were the pigs; and he took little specialized pigletsscarce weaned, and pitted them against piglets of the untrained lot--andthey outran them in a race for "Mama. " Wherefore Mr. Ross Warden foundhimself famous of a sudden; and all over the scientific world theWiesmanian controversy raged anew. He was invited to deliver a lecturebefore some most learned societies abroad, and in several importantcenters at home, and went, rejoicing. 

Diantha was glad for him from the bottom of her heart, and proud of himthrough and through. She thoroughly appreciated his sturdy opposition tosuch a weight of authority; his long patience, his careful, steady work. She was left in full swing with her big business, busy and successful, honored and liked by all the town--practically--and quite independent ofthe small fraction which still disapproved. Some people always will. Shewas happy, too, in her babies--very happy. 

The Hotel del las Casas was a triumph. 

Diantha owned it now, and Mrs. Weatherstone built others, in otherplaces, at a large profit. 

Mrs. Warden went to live with Cora in the town. Cora had more time toentertain her--as she was the one who profited by her sister-in-law'sgeneral services. 

Diantha sat in friendly talk with Mrs. Weatherstone one quiet day, andadmitted that she had no cause for complaint. 

"And yet--?" said her friend. 

Young Mrs. Warden smiled. "There's no keeping anything from you, isthere? Yes--you're right. I'm not quite satisfied. I suppose I ought notto care--but you see, I love him so! I want him to _approve_ of me!--notjust put up with it, and bear it! I want him to _feel_ with me--to care. It is awful to know that all this big life of mine is just a mistake tohim--that he condemns it in his heart. "

"But you knew this from the beginning, my dear, didn't you?"

"Yes--I knew it--but it is different now. You know when you are_married_--"

Mrs. Weatherstone looked far away through the wide window. "I do know, "she said. 

Diantha reached a strong hand to clasp her friend's. "I wish I couldgive it to you, " she said. "You have done so much for me! So much! Youhave poured out your money like water!"

"My money! Well I like that!" said Mrs. Weatherstone. "I have taken mymoney out of five and seven per cent investments, and put it into tenper cent ones, that's all. Shall I never make you realize that I am aricher woman because of you, Diantha Bell Warden! So don't try to begrateful--I won't have it! Your work has _paid_ remember--paid me aswell as you; and lots of other folks beside. You know there are eighteengood imitations of Union House running now, in different cities, andthree 'Las Casas!' all succeeding--and the papers are talking about thedangers of a Cooked Food Trust!"

They were friends old and tried, and happy in mutual affection. Dianthahad many now, though none quite so dear. Her parents were contented--herbrother and sister doing well--her children throve and grew and foundMama a joy they never had enough of. 

Yet still in her heart of hearts she was not wholly happy. 

*****

Then one night came by the last mail, a thick letter from Ross--thickerthan usual. She opened it in her room alone, their room--to which theyhad come so joyously five years ago. 

He told her of his journeying, his lectures, his controversies andtriumphs; rather briefly--and then:

"My darling, I have learned something at last, on my travels, whichwill interest you, I fancy, more than the potential speed of all theguinea-pigs in the world, and its transmissability. 

"From what I hear about you in foreign lands; from what I read about youwherever I go; and, even more, from what I see, as a visitor, in manyfamilies; I have at last begun to grasp the nature and importance ofyour work. 

"As a man of science I must accept any truth when it is once clearlyseen; and, though I've been a long time about it, I do see at last whatbrave, strong, valuable work you have been doing for the world. Doing itscientifically, too. Your figures are quoted, your records studied, yourexample followed. You have established certain truths in the business ofliving which are of importance to the race. As a student I recognize andappreciate your work. As man to man I'm proud of you--tremendously proudof you. As your husband! Ah! my love! I am coming back to you--comingsoon, coming with my Whole Heart, Yours! Just wait, My Darling, till Iget back to you!

"Your Lover and Husband. "

Diantha held the letter close, with hands that shook a little. Shekissed it--kissed it hard, over and over--not improving its appearanceas a piece of polite correspondence. 

Then she gave way to an overmastering burst of feeling, and knelt downby the wide bed, burying her face there, the letter still held fast. Itwas a funny prayer, if any human ear had heard it. 

"Thank you!" was all she said, with long, deep sobbing sighs between. "Thank you!--O--thank you!"