 CHAPTER XII. LIKE A BANION-TREE. The earth plants spring up from beneath, the air plants swing down from above, but the banion trees grow, both above and below, and one makes a prosperous grove. In the fleeting opportunities offered by the cafeteria, and in longer moments, rather neatly planned for, with some remnants of an earlier ingenuity, Mr. Thadler contrived to become acquainted with Mrs. Bell. Diantha never quite liked him, but he won her mother's heart by Frank praise of the girl and her ventures. I never saw a smarter woman in my life, he said, and no heirs. I tell you, ma'am, if there was more like her this world would be an easier place 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 loyally on the scientific mind of Mr. Henderson Bell, still of Yelapaz. I don't see how he can bear to let her out of his sight, said Mr. Thadler. Of course he hated to let her go, replied the lady. We both did, but he 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 a good 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 did expect a girl who can keep house for a whole township to settle down to bossing one man and a hired girl. In course of time he got a pretty clear notion of how matters stood and meditated upon it, seriously rolling his big cigar about between pursed lips. Mr. Thadler was a good deal of a gossip, but this he kept to himself, and did what he could to enlarge the patronage of Union House. The business grew. It held its own in spite of fluctuations, and after a certain point began to spread steadily. Mrs. Bell's coming and Mr. Eltwood's ardent championship, together with Mr. Thadler's, quieted the dangerous slanders which had imperiled the place at one time. They lingered subterraneously, of course. People never forgot slanders. A score of years after, there were, to be found in Orchardina folk who still whispered about dark allegations concerning Union House, and the papers had done some pretty serious damage, but the fame of good food, good service, 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. Porn and also to Mrs. Porn in regard to a new specially built clubhouse for the girls. I have proved what they can do with me to manage them, and want now to prove that they can do it themselves, with any matron competent to follow my directions. The house need not be so expensive. One big dining-room with turn-up tables, like those ironing-board seat-tables, you know, then they can dance there. Small reception-room into office, hall, kitchen and laundry, and thirty bedrooms, forty by thirty, with an L for the laundry ought to do it, oughtn't it? Mrs. Porn agreed to make plans, and did so most successfully, and Mr. Porn found small difficulty in persuading an investor to put up such a house, 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 in propositions and pleasantly colored. Diantha kept her plans to herself as usual, but they grew so fast that she felt a species of terror sometimes, lest the ice break somewhere. Steady now, she would say, this is real business, just plain business. There's no reason why I shouldn't succeed as well as Fred Harvey. I will succeed. I am succeeding. She kept well, and worked hard. She was more than glad to have her mother with her, but she wanted something else, which seemed farther off than ever. Her lover's picture hung on the wall of her bedroom, stood on her bureau, and, but this was a secret, a small one was carried in her bosom. Rather a grim-looking young woman, Diantha, with the cares of the world of housekeepers upon her proud young shoulders, with all the stirring hopes 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 lie still a few moments, looking at the face on the wall, and the face on the bureau, would draw the little picture out from under her pillow, and kiss it, 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 with which she met the days and carried them, made it all the more needful for her to have someone with whom she could forget every care, every purpose, every effort, someone who would put strong arms around her and call her little girl. His letters were both a comfort and a pain. He was loyal, kind, loving, but always that wall of disapproval. He loved her. He did not love her work. She read them over and over, hunting anew for the tender phrases, the things which seemed most to feed and comfort her. She suffered not only from her loneliness, but from his, and most keenly from his sternly surpassed longing for freedom and the work that belonged to him. Why can't he see, she would say to herself, that if this succeeds, he can do his work, that I can make it possible for him, and he won't let me. He won't take it from me. Why are men so proud? Is there anything so ignominius 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's all people. If this works, men will have easier times, as well as women. Everybody can do their real work better with the old primitive business once set right. And then it was always time to get up, or time to go to bed, or time to attend to some of the numberless details of her affairs. She and her mother had an early lunch before the cafeteria opened, and were glad of the afternoon tea, often held in a retired corner of the broad piazza. She sat there one hot, dusty afternoon, alone and unusually tired. The asphalted street was glaring and noisy, the cross street deep in soft dust, for months unwet. Failure had not discouraged her, but increasing success with all its stimulus and satisfaction called for more and more power. Her mind was busy foreseeing, arranging, providing for emergencies, and then the whole thing slipped away from her. She dropped her head upon her arm for a 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 were coming, both young, both tall, both good-looking, both apparently approaching Union House. One of them was the nearer, and his foot soon sounded on the wooden step. The other stopped and looked in a shop window. Diantha started up, came forward. It was Mr. Elthwood. She had a vague sense of disappointment, but received him cordially. He stood there, his hat off, holding her hand for a long moment, and gazing at her with evident admiration. They turned and sat down in the shadow of the reed-curtained corner. The man at the shop window turned, too, and went away. Mr. Elthwood had been a warm friend and cordial supporter from the epoch of the club-splitting speech. He had helped materially in the slow, uphill days of the girl's effort, with faith and kind words. He had met the mother's coming with most friendly advances, and Mrs. Bell found herself 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 may know. Why not, she said? You have followed this thing from the first. Sugar or lemon? You see, I want to disentangle the undertakings, set them upon their own separate feet, and establish the practical workings of each one. I see, he said, and day service is not cooked food delivery. Nor yet, rooms for entertainment, she agreed. We've got them all labeled, 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. You are 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. Elthwood looked at her with tender understanding. I don't want to intrude any further than you are willing to want me, he said. But sometimes I think that even you, strong as you are, would be better for some help. She did not contradict him. Her hands were in her lap, her eyes on the worn boards of the Piazza floor. She did not see a man pass on the other side of the street, cast a searching glance across, and walk quickly on again. If you were quite free to go on with your beautiful work, said Mr. Elthwood slowly, if you were offered heartiest appreciation, profound respect, as well as love, of course, would you object to marrying Miss Bell? asked in an even tone, as if it were a matter of metaphysical inquiry. Mrs. Porn had told him of her theory as to a lover in the home town, wishing to save him along heartache. But he was not sure of it, and he wanted to be. Diantha glanced quickly at him and felt the emotion under his quiet words. She withdrew her eyes, looking quite the other way. You are enough of a friend to know, Mr. Elthwood, she said. I rather thought you did know. I am engaged. Thank you for telling me. Someone 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 me thank you from my heart, for the help and strength and comfort you have bent in me, Mr. Elthwood. I am very glad, he said, and again, I am very glad. You may count upon anything I can do for you always, he continued. I am proud to be your friend. He held her hand once more for a moment, and went away with his head up in a firm step. To one who watched him go, he had almost a triumphant air, but it was not triumph, only the brave beginnings of a hard fight and a long one. Then came Mrs. Bell, returned from a shopping trip, and sank down in a wicker rocker, glad of the shade in a cup of tea. No, she didn't want it iced. Hot tea makes you cooler, was her theory. You don't look very tired, said the girl. Seems to me you get stronger 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 back number. One has to feel so about one's mother. I did when I married, and my 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 have twenty 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 to live. 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 me to 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 assured that you're setting up the new union house. Are you sure about Mrs. Jessup, dear? As sure as I can be of anyone till I've tried a long time. She has done all I've asked her to here and done it well. Besides, I mean to keep a hand on it for a year or two yet. I can't afford to have that fail. Mrs. Jessup was an imported aunt, belonging to one of the cleverest girls, 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. Bell admitted, and we mustn't expect paragons. If this can't be done by an average bunch of working women the world over, it can't be done. That's all. It can be done, said the girl calmly. It will be done. You see. Mr. Thadler says you could run any kind of a business you set your hand to, her mother went on. He has a profound respect for your abilities, Diantha. Seems to me you and Mr. Thadler have a good deal to say to each other, Mother Kins. I believe you enjoy that cafeteria desk and all the compliments you get. I do, said Mrs. Bell stoutly. I do indeed. Why, I haven't seen so many men to speak to, since, why, never in my life! And they are very amusing, some of them. They like to come here, like it immensely, and I don't wonder. I believe you'll do well to enlarge. Then they plunged into a discussion of the winter plans. The day service department and its employment agency was to go on at the new Union House, with Mrs. Jessup as manager. The present establishment was to be run as a hotel and restaurant, and the depot for the cooked food delivery. Mrs. Thorvald and her husband were installed by themselves in another new venture, a new laundry outside the town. This place employed several girls steadily, and the motor wagon found a new use between meals in collecting and delivering laundry parcels. It simplifies it a lot to get the washing out of the place and the girls off my mind, said Diantha. Now I mean to buckle down and learn the hotel business thoroughly, and develop this cooked food delivery to perfection. Modest young lady, smiled her mother. Where do you mean to stop, if ever? I don't mean to stop till I'm dead, Diantha answered. But I don't mean to undertake any more trades, if that is what you mean. You know what I'm after. To get housework on a business basis, that's all. And prove, prove, prove what a good business it is. There's the cleaning branch. That's all started and going well in the day service. There's the washing. That's simple and easy. Laundry works no mystery. But the food part is a big thing. It's an art, a science, a business, and a handicraft. I had the handicraft to start with. I'm learning the business. 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 to people as they are. I know it, the girl agreed. They must be led, step by step, the natural method. It's a big job, but not too big. Out of all the women who have done housework for so many ages, surely it's not too much to expect one to have a special genius for it. Her mother gazed at her with loving admiration. That's just what you have, Dinah. A special genius for housework. I wish there were more of you. There are plenty of me, Mother Dear. Only they haven't come yet. As soon as I show them how to make the thing pay, you'll find that we have a big percentage of this kind of ability. It's all buried now in the occasional perfect housekeeper. But they won't leave their husbands, Dinah. They don't need to, the girl answered cheerfully. Some of them aren't married yet. Some of them have lost their husbands. And some of them, she said this a little bitterly, have husbands who will be willing 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. And for this year I propose that you assume the financial management of the whole business at a salary of $1,000 and found. How does that suit you? Mrs. Bell looked at her unbelievably. You can't afford it, Dinah. Oh, yes I can. You know I can, because you've got the accounts. I'm going to make big money this year. But you'll need it. This hotel and restaurant business may not do well. Now, Mother, you know we're doing well. Look here. And Diantha produced her notebook. Here's the little laundry place. Its fittings come to so much, wages so much, collection and delivery so much, supplies so much, and already enough patronage engaged to cover. It will be bigger in winter a lot with transients and this hotel to fall back on. Aught to clear at least a thousand a year. The service club won't pay me anything of course. That is for the girl's benefit. But the food delivery is doing better than I dared hope. Mrs. Bell knew the figures better than Diantha even, and they went over them carefully again. If the winter's patronage held on to equal the summers and the many transient residents ought to increase it, they would have an average of twenty families a week to provide for one hundred persons. The expenses were food for one hundred at two hundred and fifty dollars a week per capita, six hundred dollars per year, thirteen thousand dollars, labor delivery man, six hundred dollars, head cook, six hundred dollars, two assistant cooks, one thousand forty dollars, three washers and packers, one thousand five hundred and sixty dollars, office girl, five hundred and twenty dollars, per year, four thousand three hundred and twenty dollars, rent, kitchen, office, etc., five hundred dollars, rent of motor, three hundred dollars, rent of cases, two hundred and fifty dollars, gasoline and repairs, six hundred and thirty dollars, per year, one thousand six hundred and eighty dollars, total, nineteen thousand dollars. How do you make the gasoline and repairs as much as that? asked Mrs. Bell. It's a margin, mother, makes it even money. It won't be so much, probably. The income was simple and sufficient. They charged five dollars a week per capita for three meals, table to oat, delivered thrice daily. Frequent orders for extra meals really gave them more than they sat down, but the hundred person estimate amounted to twenty six thousand dollars a year. Now see, said Diantha triumphantly, subtract all that expense list, and it is a liberal one, and we have seven thousand dollars left. I can buy the car and the cases this year and have one thousand six hundred dollars over. More, because if I do buy them I can leave off some of the interest, and the rent of kitchen and office comes to Union House. Then there's all of the extra orders. It's going to pay splendidly, mother. It clears seventy dollars a year per person. Next year it will clear a lot more. It did not take long to make Mrs. Bell admit that if the business went on as it had been going Diantha would be able to pay her a salary of a thousand dollars and have five hundred left from the food business alone. There remained the hotel with large possibilities. The present simple furnishings were to be moved over to New Union House and paid for by the girls in due time. With new paint, paper, and furniture the old house would make a very comfortable place. Of course it's the restaurant mainly. These big kitchens and the central location are the main thing. The guests will be mostly tourists I suppose. Diantha dwelt upon the prospect at some length, and even her cautious mother had to admit that unless there was some setback the year had a prospect of large success. How about all this new furnishing, Mrs. Bell said suddenly. How do you cover that? Take what you've got ahead now. Yes, there's plenty, said Diantha. You see, there is all union house has made, and this summer's profit on the cooked food. It's plenty. Then you can pay for the motor and cases as you planned, her mother insisted. No, not unless the hotel and restaurant pays enough to make good. But I don't have to buy them the first year. If I don't, there is five thousand five hundred dollars leeway. Yes, you are safe enough. There's over four thousand dollars 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 to come and live at the hotel. I think he'd like it. He could meet people and 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 about them, till they had their quiet supper and the girls came home to their noisy one. And late that evening when all was still again, Diantha came to the dim piazza corner once more and sat there quite alone, full of hope, full of courage, sure of her progress, and aching with loneliness. She sat with her head in her hands, and her ears came suddenly the sound of a familiar step, a well-known voice, the hands in the lips of her lover. Diantha. He held her close. Oh, Ross, Ross, darling, is it true? When did you come? Oh, I'm so glad, so glad to see you. She was so glad that she had to cry a little on his shoulder, which he seemed 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 out my 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 what I've wanted so long. A ranch. A big one that would keep us all and let me 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, and small fruit and everything. And what's better? It's all in good running order with a competent ranchman, and two Chinese who rent the vegetable part. And there are two houses on it—two, one for mother and 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 so out, up by the mountains, with a little canyon of its own, its own little stream and reservoir. Oh, my darling, my darling! They sat in happy silence in the perfumed night. The strong arms were around 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 years of companionship opened bright and glorious before them. I came this afternoon, he said at length, but I saw another man coming. He got here first. I thought, Ross, you didn't! And you've left me to go without you all these hours? He looked so confident when he went away that I was jealous. Ross admitted, furiously jealous, and then your mother was here and then those cackling girls. I wanted you alone. And then he had her, alone, for other quiet happy moments. She was so glad 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. I came 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 and settle. 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 take you to get out of this? Get out of what, she faltered? Why, the whole abominable business you have so deep in. 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 not believe him. Why, dear, she said, if your ranch is as near as that, it would be perfectly easy for me to come into the business with a car. I can afford a car soon. But I tell you there's no need any more, said he. Don't you understand? This is a paying fruith ranch, with land rented to advantage, and a competent manager right there running it. It's simply changed owners. I'm the owner now. There's two or three thousand a year to be made on it. Has been made on it. There's a home for my people, a home for us. Oh, my beloved girl, my darling, my own sweetheart. Surely you won't refuse me now. Diantha's head swam dizzily. Ross, she urged, you don't understand. I've built up a good business here. A real successful business. Mother is in it. Father's to come down. 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 show you that there is no longer any need of your earning money, he said hotly. But dear, dear, she protested. It isn't for the money. It is the work I want to do. It is my work. You are so happy now that you can do your 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 your work better than you love me? Of course not. You love them both. So do I. Can't you see? Why should I have to give up anything? You do not have to, he said impatiently. I cannot compel you to marry me. But now, when at last, after these awful years, I can really offer you 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 of a piazza in 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 you choose. But it is you who are saying I will not marry a woman with a business. This is foolishness, he said sharply. No man, that is a man, would marry a woman and let her run a business. You are mistaken, she answered. One of the finest men I ever knew has asked 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 he caught her in his arms again. It was late indeed when he went away, walking swiftly with a black rebellion in his heart, and Diantha dragged herself to bed. She was stunned, deadened, exhausted, torn with the desire to run after him and give up, give up anything to hold his love. But something partly reason and partly pride kept saying within her, I have not refused 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 sceptres 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 Madame Weatherstone shook the plentiful dust of Orchardina from her expensive shoes and returned to adorn the more classic groves of Philadelphia, Mrs. Thadler assumed to hold undisputed sway as a social leader. The social leader she meant to be, and marshaled her forces to that end. She patronized here and donated there, revised her visiting list with rigid exclusiveness, secured an eminent professor and a noted writer as visitors, and gave entertainments of almost Roman magnificence. Her husband grew more and more restive under the rising tide of social exactions in dress and deportment, and spent more and more time behind his fast horses, or on the stock ranch where he raised them. As a neighbor and fellow ranchman he scraped acquaintance with Ross Warden and was able to render him many small services in the process of settling. Mrs. Warden remembered his visit to Yalapes, and it took her some time to rearrange him in her mind as a person of wealth and standing. Having so rearranged him on sufficient evidence, she and her daughters became most friendly and had hopes of establishing valuable acquaintance in the 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 that dreadful Yalapes there was absolutely no opportunity for them, but here, with horses, there is no reason we should not have friends. You must consider your sisters, Ross, do be more cordial to Mr. Thaddler. But Ross could not at present be cordial to anybody. His unexpected good fortune, the freedom from hated cares, and chance to work out his mightier theories on the faithful guinea pig ought to have filled his soul with joy. But Diantha's cruel obstinacy had embittered his cup of joy. He could not break with her. She had not refused him, and it was difficult in cold blood to refuse her. He had stayed away for two whole weeks, in which time the guinea pigs nibbled at ease, and Diantha's work would have suffered except for her mother's extra efforts. Then he went to see her again, miserable but stubborn, finding her also miserable and also stubborn. They argued till there was grave danger of an absolute break between them. They dropped the subject by mutual agreement, and spent evenings of unsatisfying effort to talk about other things. Diantha and her mother called on Mrs. Warden, of course, admiring the glorious view of the sweet high air and the embowered loveliness of the two ranch houses. Ross drew Diantha aside and showed her, theirs, a lovely little wide-porched concrete cottage with a red-tiled roof and heavy masses of gold of Ophir and Banksy a 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 up her work, and he flung away from her in reckless despair. Mrs. Warden and 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 servant girl's club. And though the servant girl's club was soon removed to its new quarters and Union House became a quiet, well-conducted hotel, still the two families saw but little of each other. Mrs. Warden naturally took her son's side and considered Diantha an unnatural monster of hard-heartedness. The matter sifted through to the ears of Mrs. Thadler, who rejoiced in it, and called upon Mrs. Warden in her largest automobile. As a mother with four marriageable daughters, Mrs. Warden was delighted to accept and improve the acquaintance, but her aristocratic southern soul was inwardly rebellious at the ancestorlessness and uncultured, moneyed pride of her new friend. If only Madame Weatherstone had stayed, she would complain to her daughters, 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, of course, but no position, and what little she has she is losing by her low tastes. She goes about freely with Diantha Bell, her own housekeeper. She's not her housekeeper now, mother. Well, it's all the same, she was, and a mere general servant before that. And now to think that when Ross is willing to overlook it all and marry her, she won't give it up. They were all agreed on this point, unless perhaps that the youngest had her inward reservations. Dora had always liked Diantha better than had the others. Young Mrs. Weatherstone stayed in her big empty house for a while, and as Mrs. Warden said, went about frequently with Diantha Bell. She liked Mrs. Bell too, took her for long stimulating rides in her comfortable car, and insisted that first one and then the other of them should have a bit of vacation at her sea shore home before the winter's work grew too heavy. 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. She seized the business, and she has a great view of all it is going to do for women to come. But I don't think she realizes how much she is doing right now for women here, and men too. There were my friends, the porns, they were drifting apart, as the novels have it, and no wonder. Isabelle was absolutely no good as a housekeeper. He naturally didn't like it, and the baby made it all the worse. She pined for her work, you see, and couldn't get any time for it. Now they are as happy as can be, and it's just Diantha Bell's doings. The housework is off Isabelle's shoulders. Then there are the wagrams and the sheldons and the brinks, and ever so many more, who have told me themselves that they are far happier than they ever were before, and can live more cheaply. She ought to be the happiest girl alive. Mrs. Bell would agree to this, and quite swelled with happiness and pride. But Mrs. Weatherstone, watching narrowly, was not satisfied. When she had Diantha with her, she opened fire direct. You ought to be the happiest, proudest, most triumphant woman in the world, she said. You're making oodles of money, your whole things doing well. And look at your mother, she's made over. Diantha smiled and said she was happy, but her eyes would stray off to the very rim of the ocean, her mouth set in patient lines that were not, in the least, triumphant. Tell me about it, my friend, said her hostess. Is it that he won't let 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 tomorrow. She held one hand with the other tight. But they both shook a little. I'd be 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. Hmm, are you going to break down? No, said Diantha. I am not going to break down. I am doing what is right, and I shall go on. It's a little hard at first, having him so near. But I am young and strong and have a great deal to do. I shall do it. And then Mrs. Weatherstone could tell her all she knew of the intense satisfaction of the people she served, and pleasant stories about the girls. She bought her books to read, and such gleanings as she found in foreign magazines on the subject of organized house service. Not only so, but she supplied the Orchardena Library with a special bibliography on the subject, and induced the New Women's Club to take up a course of reading in it, so that they're gradually filtered into the Orchardena mind a faint perception that this was not the freak of an eccentric 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 a warm current of interest in Diantha's life by many letters. Mr. Bell came down from Yelapes without a reluctance, but inner satisfaction. He had rented his place, and Susie had three babies now. Henderson, Jr. had no place for him, and to do housework for himself, was no part of Mr. Bell's plan. In Diantha's hotel he had a comfortable room next to his wife's, and a capacious chair in the firelit hall in wet weather, or on the shaded piazza in dry. The excellent library was a resource to him. He found some congenial souls to talk with, and under the new stimulus succeeded at last in patenting a small device that really worked. With this, and his rent, he felt inclined to establish a home of his own, and the soul of Mrs. Bell sank with in her. Without allowing it to come to an issue between them, she kept the question open for endless discussion, and Mr. Bell lived on in great contentment under the impression that he was about to move at almost any time. To his friends and cronies he dilated with pride on his daughter's wonderful achievements. She's as good as a boy, he would declare. Women nowadays seem to do anything they want to, and he rigidly paid his board bill with a flourish. Meanwhile the impressive gatherings at Mrs. Thadler's and the humbler tea and card parties at Diantha's friends had a new topic as a shuttlecock. A New York company had bought one of the largest and finest blocks in town, the old paraplace, and was developing it in a manner hitherto unseen. The big shabby neglected estate began to turn into such a fair land as only southern lands can know. The old live oaks were untouched. The towering eucalyptus trees remained in ragged majesty, but an army of workmen was busy under guidance of a master of beauty. One large and lovely building rose promptly dubbed a hotel by the unwilling neighbors. Others, smaller, showed here and there among the trees, and then a rose-grey wall of concrete ran around the whole, high, tantalizing with green boughs and sweet odors coming over it. Those who went in reported many buildings and much activity. But when the wall was done, and each gate said, no admittance except on business, then the work of Jeanie was imagined, and there was none to contradict. It was a school of theosophy. It was a Christian science college. It was a free-love colony. It was a secret society. It was a thousand wonders. Lot of little houses and one big one, the employees said when questioned. Hotel and cottages, the employers said when questioned. They made no secret of it. They were too busy. But the town was unsatisfied. Why a wall? What did any honest person want of a wall? Yet the wall cast a pleasant shadow. There were seats here and there between buttresses, and as the swift California season advanced, roses and oleanders nodded over the top, and gave hints of beauty and richness more subtly stimulating than all the open glory of the low-hedged gardens near. Diantha's soul was stirred with secret envy. Some big concern was about to carry out her dream or part of it, perhaps to be a huge and overflowing rival. Her own work grew meantime and flourished as well as she could wish. The food delivery service was running to its full capacity. The girls got on very well under Mrs. Jessup and were delighted to have a house of their own, with the parlors and piazzas all to themselves, and a garden to sit in as well. If this depleted their ranks by marriage, it did not matter now, for there was a waiting-list in training all the time. Union House kept on evenly and profitably, and Diantha was beginning to feel safe and successful. But the years looked long before her. She was always cheered by Mrs. Weatherstone's letters, and Mrs. Porn came to see her, and to compare notes over their friend's success, for Mrs. Weatherstone had been presented at court, at more than one court, in fact, and Mrs. Weatherstone had been proposed to by a Duke and had refused him, or Chardina well-nice wound when this was known. She had been studying, investigating, had become known in scientific as well as social circles, and on her way back the strenuous upper layer of New York society had also made much of her. Rumors grew of her exquisite costumes, of her unusual jewels, of her unique entertainments, of her popularity everywhere she went. Other proposals of a magnificent nature were reported, with more magnificent refusals, and Orchardina began to be very proud of young Mrs. Weatherstone, and a wish she would come back. She did at last bringing an Italian prince with her, and a Hock-Gabrine German Count also. She alleged they were travelling to study the country, but who had reputed to have had a duel already on the beautiful widow's account. All this was long drawn gossip, but bore some faint resemblance to the facts. Viva Weatherstone at thirty was a very different woman front the pale, sad-eyed girl of four years earlier. And when the great house on the avenue was arrayed in new magnificence and all Orchardina, that dared, had paid its respects to her, she opened the season, as it were, with a brilliant dinner, followed by reception and ball. All Orchardina came, so far as it had been invited. There was the Prince, sure enough, a pleasant blue-eyed young man, and there was the Count bearing visible evidence of duels aplenty in earlier days. And there was Diantha Bell, receiving, with Mrs. Porn and Mrs. Weatherstone. All Orchardina stared. Diantha had been at the dinner. That was clear. And now she stood there in her soft, dark evening dress, and not of golden acacias nestling against the black lace at her bosom, looking as fair and sweet as if she had never had a care in her life. Her mother thought her the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and her father, though somewhat critical, secretly thought so too. Mrs. Weatherstone cast many a loving look at the tall girl beside her in the intervals of delighted to see use, and saw that her double burden had had no worse effect than to soften the lines of the mouth and give a hint of pathos to the clear depths of her eyes. The foreign visitors were much interested in the young Amazon of industry, as the Prince insisted on calling her, and even the German Count for a moment forgot his ancestors in her pleasant, practical talk. Mrs. Weatherstone had taken pains to call upon the Wardens, claiming a connection, if not a relationship, and to invite them all. And as the crowd grew bigger and bigger, Diantha saw Mrs. Warden at last approaching with her four daughters and no one else. She greeted them politely and warmly, but Mrs. Weatherstone did more. In the mall, in a little group beside her, she introduced her noble visitors to them, and parted the further information that their brother was a fiancée to Miss Bell. I don't see him, she said, looking about. He will come later, of course. Ah, Miss Madeline, how proud you all must 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 will admire, envy, and imitate. Is it not so? You ladies of America have all things in your hands, said the Prince to Miss Cora, to think she has done so much, and is yet so young and so beautiful. I know you're all as proud as you can be, Mrs. Weatherstone continued to Dora. You see, Diantha has been heard of abroad. They all passed on presently as others came, but Mrs. Warden's head was reeling. She wished she could by any means get at Ross and make him come, 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. Thadler were there, but not happy. She was not at least, and showed it. He was not until an idea struck him. He dodged softly out, and was soon flying off at a dangerous speed over the moon-white country roads. He found Ross dressed and ready, sulking blackly on his shadowy porch. Come and take a spin while you wait, said Mr. Thadler. 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 and the 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, his brows knit, and the stout gentleman at his side watched him shrewdly. How does the ranch go? he asked. Well, thank you, Mr. Thadler. Them chinks pay up promptly. As promptly as the month comes around, their rent is a very valuable part of the estate. Yes, Mr. Thadler pursued. They have a good steady market for their stuff. And the chicken-man, too. Do you know who buys them? 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 she sprung it on us. Mr. Thadler confided. She's got the goods all right. But there was plenty against her here. You know what women are. And I made up my mind the supplies should be good and steady anyhow. She had no trouble with her grocery orders. That was easy. Meat I couldn't handle, except indirectly. A little pressure may be 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, and then I bought your little upstate shop, lock, stock, and barrel, and gave you this for it. A fair exchange is no robbery. So it would be nice to have it all in the family, eh? Ross was silent for a few turbulent moments, revolving this far from pleasing information. What I'd do it for, continued the unasked benefactor. What do you think I did it for? So that brave, sweet little girl down there could have her heart's desire. She's established her business. She's proved her point. She has won the town. Most of it. And there's nothing on earth to make her unhappy now but your pig-headedness. Young man, I tell you, you're a plum fool. One cannot throw one's host out of his own swift-flying car, nor is it wise to jump out oneself. Nothing on earth between you but your cussed pride, Mr. Thadler remorsefully went on. This ranch is honestly yours by a square deal. Your Yalapa's business was worth the money. You ran it honestly and extended the trade. You'd have made a heap by it if you could have unbent 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 to her. 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 earned the place all right, and I don't doubt you'll make good, both in a business way and a scientific way, young man. But why in Hades you can't let her be happy, too, is more an icon figure? Guess you get your notions from two generations back, and some. Ross began, stumblingly. I did not know I was indebted to you, Mr. Thadler. You're not, young man, you're not. I ran that shop of yours a year, pulled 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 realize is that you're breaking the heart of the finest woman I ever saw. You can't bend that, girl. She'll never give up. A woman like that has got more things to do than just marry. But she's pining for you all the same. Here she is tonight receiving with Mrs. Weatherstone, with those bannerettes, dukes, and urls around her, standing up there like a princess herself, and her eyes on the door all the time, and tears in them I could swear, because you don't come. They drew up with a fine curve before the carriage gate. I'll take them all home. They won't be ready for some time yet, said Mr. Thadler, and if you, too, would like this car I'll send for the other one. Ross shook hands with him. You're very kind, Mr. Thadler, he said. I am obliged to you. But I think we will walk. Tall and impressive, looking more distinguished in a six-year-old evening suit than even the Hock Gebereen in his uniform. He came at last, and Diantha saw him the moment he entered, saw, too, a new light in his eyes. He went straight to her, and Mrs. Weatherstone did not lay it against him 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 far outlying paths, and long waits on rose-boured seats they knew. The moon filled all the world with tender light, and the orange blossoms flooded this still air with sweetness. Dear, said he, I have been a proud fool. I am yet. But I have come to see a little clearer. I do not prove of your work. I cannot prove of it. But will you forgive me for that and marry me? I cannot live any longer without you. Of course I will, said Diantha. End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Of What Diantha Did This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Betsy Bush, March 2009. What Diantha Did By Charlotte Perkins Gilman Chapter 14 And Heaven Beside They were married while the flowers were knee-deep over the sunny slopes and mesas, and the canyon's gulfs of color and fragrance, and went for their first moon together to a far-high, mountain valley hidden among wooded peaks, with a clear lake for its central jewel. A month of heaven, while wave on wave of perfect rest and world for getting oblivion, rolled over both their hearts. They swam together in the dawn-flushed lake, seeing the morning mists float up from the silver surface, breaking the still reflection of thick trees and rosy clouds, rejoining in the level shafts of forest-filtered sunlight. They played and ran like children, rejoiced over their picnic meals, lay flat among the crowding flowers, and slept under the tender starlight. I don't see, said her lover, but that any strenuous Amazon is just as much a woman as any woman. Never said I wasn't, quote Diantha demirally. 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 no further 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 run about car bringing out a girl in the morning early and taking Diantha into her office. But motor-cars are not infallible, and if it met with any accident there was delay at both ends and more or less friction. Then Diantha engaged a first-class oriental gentleman, well recommended by the vegetable Chinamen, on their own place. This was extremely satisfactory. He did the work well and was in all ways reliable. But there arose in the town a current of malicious criticism and protest that she did not live up to her principles. To this she paid no attention. Her work was now too well planted, too increasingly prosperous to be weakened by small sneers. Her mother, growing plumper now, thriving continuously in her new lines of work, kept the hotel under her immediate management and did bookkeeping for the whole concern. New Union House ran itself and articles were written about it in magazines, so that here and there in other cities similar clubs were started with varying success. The restaurant was increasingly popular, Diantha's cooks were highly skilled and handsomely paid, and from the cheap lunch to the expensive banquet they gave satisfaction. But the C. F. D. was the darling of her heart, and it prospered exceedingly. There is no advertisement like a pleased customer, and her pleased customers grew in the numbers and in enthusiasm. Family after family learned to prize the cleanliness and quiet, the odorlessness and flylessness of a home without a kitchen, and their questioning guests were converted by the excellence of the meals. Critical women learned at last that a competent cook can really produce better food than an incompetent one, albeit without the sanctity of the home. C. F. D. of your bootstraps, protested one, your askable gentleman. Such talk is all nonsense. I don't want sacred meals, I want good ones, and I'm getting them at last. We don't brag about home brewing any more, said another, or home tailoring or home shoemaking, while this talk about home cooking. What pleased the men most was not only the good food, but its clockwork regularity, and not only the reduced bills, but the increased health and happiness of their wives. Domestic bliss increased in Orchardina, and the doctors were more rigidly confined to the patronage of tourists. Ross Warden did his best. Under the merciless friendliness of Mr. Thadler, he had been brought to see that Diantha had a right to do this, if she would, and that he had no right to prevent her. But he did not like it any better. When she rolled away in her little car in the bright sweet mornings, a light went out of the day for him. He wanted her there, in the home, his home, his wife, even when he was not in it himself. And in this particular case it was harder than for most men, because he was in the house a good deal, in his study, with no better company than a polite Chinaman from distance off. It was by no means easy for Diantha, either, to leave him tugged at her heartstrings, as it did at his. And if he had to struggle with inherited feelings and acquired traditions, still more was she beset with an unexpected uprising of sentiments and desires she had never dreamed of feeling. With marriage, love, happiness, came an overwhelming instinct of service, personal service. She wanted to wait on him, loved to do it. Regarded Wang Fu with positive jealousy when he brought in the coffee and Ross praised it, she had a sense of treason, of neglected duty, as she left the flower-crowned cottage day by day. But she left it, she plunged into her work, she schooled herself religiously. Shame on you, she berated herself. Now, now that you've got everything on earth to weaken. You could stand unhappiness, can't you stand happiness? And she strove with herself, and kept on with her work. After all, the happiness was presently diluted by the pressure of this blank wall between them. She came home, eager, loving, delighted to be with him again. He received her with no complaint or criticism, but always an unspoken, perhaps imagined, sense of protest. She was full of loving enthusiasm about his work, and he would dilate upon his harassed guinea-pigs and their development with high satisfaction. But he never could bring himself to ask about her labours with any genuine approval. She was keenly sensitive to his dislike for the subject, and so it was ignored between them, or treated by him in a vein of humour with which he strove to cover his real feeling. When, before many months were over, the crowning triumph of her effort revealed itself, her joy and pride held this bitter drop. He did not sympathise, did not approve. Still, it was a great glory. The New York Company announced the completion of their work, and the Hotel de las Casas was opened to public inspection. House of the Houses, that's a fine name, said some disparagingly, but as they rate it seemed appropriate. The big estate was one rich garden, more picturesque, more dreamily beautiful than the American commercial mind was usually able to compass, even when possessed of millions. The Hotel of itself was a pleasure palace, wholly unaustentatious, full of gaiety and charm, offering lovely chambers for guests and residents, and every opportunity for healthful amusement. There was the rare luxury of a big swimming-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. And the wide roof was a garden of Babylon, a court of the stars, with views of purple mountains, fair, wide valley, and far-flushing rim of sea. Around it, each in its own hedged garden nestled las Casas, the Houses, twenty in number, with winding shaded paths, groups of rare trees, a wilderness of flowers, between and about them. In one corner was a playground for children, a wall around this, that they might shout in freedom, and the nursery thereby gave every provision for the happiness and safety of the little ones. The people poured along the winding walls, entered to the pretty cottages, or much impressed by a little flock of well-floored tents in another corner, but came back with oars and oars of delight to the large building in the avenue. Diantha went all over the place inch by inch, her eyes widening with admiration. Mr. and Mrs. Porn and Mrs. Weatherstone with her. She enjoyed the serene, well-planned beauty of the whole, approved heartily of the cottages, each one a little different, each charming in its quiet privacy, admired the plentiful arrangements for pleasure and gay association. But her professional soul blazed with enthusiasm over the great kitchens, clean as a hospital, glittering in glass and copper and cool tiling, with the swift, sure electric stove. The fuel all went into a small, solidly built powerhouse, and came out in light and heat and force for the whole square. Diantha sighed in absolute appreciation. Fine, isn't it? said Mr. Porn. How do you like the architecture? asked Mrs. Porn. What do you think of my investment? said Mrs. Weatherstone. Diantha stopped in her tracks and looked from one to the other of them. Fact! I control the stock and president of the Hotel de las Casas Company. Our friends here have stock in it, too, and more that you don't know. We think it's going to be a paying concern. But if you can make it go, my dear, as I think you will, you can buy us all out and own the whole outfit. It took some time to explain all this, but the facts were visible enough. Nothing remarkable at all, said Mrs. Weatherstone. Here's Aster with three hotels on his hands. Why shouldn't I have one to play with? And I've got to employ somebody to manage it. In a year of her marriage Diantha was at the head of this pleasing centre of housekeeping. She kept the hotel itself so that it was a joy to all its patrons. She kept the little houses, homes of pure delight for those who were so fortunate as to hold them. And she kept up her CFD business till it grew so large she had to have quite a fleet of delivery wagons. Orchardina basked and prospered. Its citizens found their homes happier and less expensive than ever before. And its citizenesses began to wake up and do things worthwhile. Two years, and there was a small Ross Warden-born. She loved it, nursed it, and ran her business at long range for some six 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 busy day with still hours by herself the baby in her arms. Back they came together before supper and found unbroken joy and peace in the quiet of home. But always in the background was the current of Ross's unspoken disapproval. Three years, four years, there were three babies now. Diantha was a splendid woman of thirty, handsome and strong, preeminently successful. And yet there were times when she found it in her heart to envy the most ordinary people who loved and quarreled and made up in the little outlying ranch houses along the road. They had nothing between them, at least. Meantime, in the friendly opportunities of Orchardina society, added to by the unexampled possibilities of Las Casas, and they did not score in this hotel, nor Diantha's position in it, the three older Miss Wardens had married. Two of them preferred the good old way, but one tried the DS and the CFD and liked them well. Dora amazed and displeased her family, as soon as she was of age, by frankly going over to Diantha's side in learning bookkeeping. She became an excellent accountant and bade fair to become an expert manager soon. Las had prospered in his work. It may be that the element of dissatisfaction in his married life spurred him on, while the unusual opportunities of his ranch allowed free effort. He had always held that the non-transmissibility of acquired traits was not established by any number of curtailed mice or croppiered rats. A mutilation is not an acquired trait, he protested. An acquired trait is one gained by exercise. It modifies the whole organism. It must have an effect on the race. We expect the sons of a line of soldiers to inherit their father's courage, perhaps his habit of obedience, but not his wooden leg. To establish his views he selected from a fine family of guinea pigs, two pair. Set the one, pair A, in conditions of ordinary guinea pig bliss, and subjected the other, pair B, to a course of discipline. They were trained to run. They and their descendants after them. Pair following on pair. First with slow turning wheels as in squirrel cages, the whirl inexorably going, machine-driven, and the luckless little gluttons having to move on, for gradually increasing periods of time at gradually increasing speeds. Pair A and their progeny were sheltered and fed, but the rod was spared. Pair B were as the guests at Muldoon's. They had to exercise. With scientific patience and ingenuity, he devised mechanical surroundings which made them jump increasing spaces, which made them run always a little faster and a little farther, and he kept a record as carefully as if these little sheds were racing stables for a king. Several centuries of guinea pig time went by. Generation after generation of healthy guinea pigs passed under his modifying hands, and after some five years he had in one small yard a fine group of the descendants of his gal-fed pair. And in another the offspring of the trained ones, nimble swift as different from the first as the razor-backed pig of the forest from the fatted porcars in the sty. He set them to race. The young untrained specimens of these distant cousins 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 them run. 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 gain from running. It was artificial selection, they said. You picked out the speediest for your training. Not at all, said he. I took always any healthy pair from the trained parents 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 piglets, scarce weaned, and pitted them against piglets of the untrained lot, and they outran them in a race for mama. Wherefore, Mr. Ross Warden found himself famous of a sudden, and all over the scientific world the wise manian controversy raged anew. He was invited to deliver a lecture before some most learned societies abroad, and in several important centers at home, and went rejoicing. Diantha was glad for him from the bottom of her heart, and proud of him through and through. She thoroughly appreciated his sturdy opposition to such 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 of the small fraction which still disproved. Some people always will. She was happy too in her babies, very happy. The Hotel de las Casas was a triumph. Diantha owned it now, and Mrs. Weatherstone built others, in other places, at a large profit. Mrs. Warden went to live with Cora in the town. Cora had more time to entertain her, as she was the one who profited by her sister-in-law's general services. Diantha sat in friendly talk with Mrs. Weatherstone one quiet day, and admitted that she had no cause for complaint. And yet, said her friend, young Mrs. Warden smiled, and there's no keeping anything from you, is there? Yes, you're right. I'm not quite satisfied. I suppose I ought not to care, but you see, I love him so. I want him to approve of me, not just 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 to him, 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 friends. I wish I could give it to you, she said. You have done so much for me, so much. You have poured out your money like water. My money, well, I like that, said Mrs. Weatherstone. I have taken my money out of five and seven percent investments, and put it into ten percent ones. That's all. Shall I never make you realize that I am a richer woman because of you, Diantha Bell Warden? So don't try to be grateful. I won't have it. Your work was paid, remember? Paid me as well as you, and lots of other folks beside. You know there are eighteen good imitations of Union House running now in different cities and three less casas, all succeeding, and the papers are talking about the dangers of a cooked food trust. They were friends old and tried and happy in mutual affection. Diantha had many now, though none quite so dear. Her parents were contented, her brother and sister doing well, her children throve, and grew and found Mama 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, thicker than usual. She opened it in her room alone, their room, to which they had come so joyously five years ago. He told her of his journeying, his lectures, his controversies and triumphs, rather briefly, and then this. My darling, I have learned something at last, on my travels which will interest you, I fancy, more than the potential speed of all the guinea-pigs in the world and its transmissibility. From what I hear about you in foreign lands, from what I read about you wherever I go, and even more from what I see as a visitor in many families, I have at last begun to grasp the nature and importance of your work. As a man of science I must accept any truth when it is once clearly seen, and though I've been a long time about it, I do see at last what brave, strong, valuable work you have been doing for the world, doing it scientifically too. Your figures are quoted, your records studied, your example followed, you have established certain truths in the business of living which are of importance to the race. As a student I recognize and appreciate your work. As man to man I am proud of you, tremendously proud of you. As your husband, I love, I am coming back to you, coming soon, coming with my whole heart yours. Just wait, my darling, till I get back to you, your lover and husband. Diantha held the letter close, with hands that shook a little, she kissed it, kissed it hard, over and over, not improving its appearance as a piece of polite correspondence. Then she gave way to an overmastering burst of feeling and knelt down by the wide bed, burying her face there, the letter still held fast. It was a funny prayer, if any human ear had heard it. Thank you, was all she said, with long, deep sobbing size between. Thank you, oh thank you.