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CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 3 1924 076 285 224 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924076285224 
 
What Diantha Did 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 CHARLOTTE PERKINS OILMAN 
 
 CHARLTON COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 1910 
 
G 
 
 w 
 
 (a) 13^ V44- 
 
 Copyright 1909 
 
 by 
 
 CHARLOTTE PERKINS OILMAN 
 
 Printed by The Co-Operative Press, New York City 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Dedication to the Housewife 
 
 I. Handicapped 3 
 
 II. An Unnatural Daughter 19 
 
 III. Breakers 42 
 
 IV. A Crying Need ' 60 
 
 V. A Friend in Need 73 
 
 VI. The Cynosure 91 
 
 VII. Heresy and Schism 105 
 
 VIII. "Locked" 131 
 
 IX. "Sleeping in" 136 
 
 X. Union House 156 
 
 XI. The Power of the Screw 170 
 
 XII. Like a Banyan Tree 199 
 
 XIII. All This 230 
 
 XIV And Heaven Beside 236 
 
With earnest love and a warm wish to help ; with 
 the highest respect for her great work and the 
 desire to see it done more easily, pleasantly, scien- 
 tifically, economically, hygienically and beautifully; 
 hoping for her a happier life, a larger income, bet- 
 ter health, and full success in living: this book is 
 affectionately dedicated to 
 
 THE HOUSEWIFE. 
 
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, pillared porches and "galleries," showing 
 southern antecedents; moreover, it had a cupola, 
 giving date to the building, and proof of the con- 
 tinuing ambitions of the builders. 
 
 The stately mansion was covered with heavy flow- 
 ering vines, also with heavy mortgages. Mrs. Ros- 
 coe Warden and her four daughters reposed peace- 
 fully under the vines, while Roscoe Warden, Jr., 
 struggled desperately under the mortgages. 
 
 A slender, languid lady was Mrs. Warden, wear- 
 ing her thin but still brown hair in "water-waves" 
 over a pale high forehead. She was sitting on a 
 couch on the broad, rose-shaded porch, surrounded 
 by billowing masses of vari-colored worsted. It 
 was her delight to purchase skein on skein of soft, 
 
4 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 bright-hued wool, cut it all up into short lengths, 
 tie them together again in contrasting colors, and 
 then crochet this hashed rainbow into afghans of 
 startling aspect. California does not call for 
 afghans 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 minor weddings, in a stream of pil- 
 lowy bundles. As they were accepted, they must 
 have been acceptable, and the stream flowed on. 
 
 Around her, among the gay blossoms and gayer 
 wools, sat her four daughters, variously intent. 
 The mother, a poetic soul, had named them 
 musically- and with dulcet rhymes: Madeline and 
 Adeline were the two eldest, Coraline and Doraline 
 the two youngest. It had not occurred to her 
 until too late that those melodious terminations 
 made it impossible to call one daughter without 
 calling two; and that "Lina" called them all. 
 
 "Mis' Immerjin," said a soft voice in the door- 
 way, "der pos'tively ain't no butter in de house fer 
 supper." 
 
 "No butter?" said Mrs. Warden, incredulously. 
 "Why, Sukey, I'm sure we had 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 mother appealed to them quite earn- 
 estly, as if the date of that tub's delivery would 
 
HANDICAPPED S 
 
 furnish forth the supper-table; but none of the 
 young ladies save Dora had even a contradiction 
 to offer. 
 
 "You know I never notice things," said the 
 artistic Cora; and the "delines," as their younger 
 sisters called them, said nothing. 
 
 "I might borrow some o' MigJ Bell?" suggested 
 Sukey; "dat's nearer 'n de sto'." 
 
 "Yes, do, Sukey," her mistress agreed. 
 
 "It is so hot. But what have you done with 
 that tubful?" 
 
 "Why, some I tuk back to Mis' Bell for what I 
 borrered befo' — I'm always most careful to make 
 return for what I borrers — and yo' know. Mis' 
 Warden, dat waffles and sweet potaters and cohn 
 bread dey do take butter; to say nothing 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, and ask her for some; 
 and be sure you return it promptly. Now, girls, 
 don't let me forget to tell Ross to send up another 
 tub." 
 
 "We can't seem to remember any better than 
 you can, mother," said Adeline, dreamily. "Those 
 details are so utterly uninteresting." 
 
 "I should think it was Sukey's business to tell 
 him," said Madeline, with decision; while the 
 "a-lines" kept silence this time. 
 
 "There! Sukey's gone!" Mrs. Warden suddenly 
 remarked, watching the stout figure moving heavily 
 
6 IV HAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 away under the pepper trees. "And I meant to 
 have asked her to make me a glass of shrub! 
 Dora, dear, you run and get it for 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; which statement was tacitly ac- 
 cepted. It was not extravagant praise. 
 
 Dora poked about in the refrigerator for a bit 
 of ice. She had no idea of the high cost of ice 
 in that region — it came from "the store," like all 
 their provisions. It did not occur to her that fish 
 and milk and melons made a poor combination in 
 flavor; or that the clammy, sub-offensive smell was 
 not the natural and necessary odor of refrigerators. 
 Neither did she think that a sunny corner of the 
 back porch near the chimney, though convenient, 
 was an ill-selected spot for a refrigerator. She 
 couldn't find the ice-pick, so put a big piece of ice 
 in a towel and broke it on the edge of the sink; 
 replaced the largest fragment, used what she 
 wanted, and left the rest to filter slowly down 
 through a mass of grease and tea-leaves; found 
 the raspberry vinegar, and made a very satisfac- 
 tory 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 
 
HANDICAPPED t 
 
 needle and then for her thimble, 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 do despise a kitchen." And this 
 seemed to be the general sentiment; for no one 
 moved. 
 
 "My mother always liked raspberry shrub," said 
 Mrs. Warden ; "and your Aunt Leicester, and your 
 Raymond cousins." 
 
 Mrs. Warden had a wide family circle, many be- 
 loved relatives, "connections" of whom she was 
 duly proud, and "kin" in such widening ramifica- 
 tions that even her carefully reared daughters 
 lost track of them. 
 
 "You young people don't seem to care about 
 your cousins at all!" pursued their mother, some- 
 what severely, setting her glass on the railing, 
 from whence it was presently knocked oif and 
 broken. 
 
 "That's the fifth !" remarked Dora under breath. 
 
 "Why should we, ma?" inquired Cora. "We've 
 never seen one of them — except Madam Weather- 
 stone !" 
 
 "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 proper family spirit," replied 
 
8 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 Mrs. Warden. "Her mother was own cousin to 
 my grandmother — one of the Virginia Padding- 
 tons. Or she might do something for j-ou girls." 
 
 "I wish she would!" Adeline murmured, softly, 
 her large eyes turned to the horizon, her hands in 
 her lap over the handkerchief she was marking 
 for Roscoe. 
 
 "Don't be ungrateful, Adeline," said her mother, 
 firmly. "You have a good home and a good 
 brother; no girl ever had a better." 
 
 "But there is never anything going on," broke in 
 Coraline, in a tone of complaint; "no parties, no 
 going away for vacations, no anything." 
 
 "Now, Cora, don't be discontented! You must 
 not add a straw to dear Roscoe's burdens," said 
 her mother. 
 
 "Of course not, mother; I wouldn't for the 
 world. I never saw her but that 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 Madame Weatherstone would 
 recognize it. And Adeline's music too. And 
 Cora's art. I am very proud of my girls. 
 
 Cora sat where the light fell well upon her work. 
 She was illuminating a volume of poems, painting 
 flowers on the margins, in appropriate places — for 
 Roscoe. 
 
HANDICAPPED 9 
 
 "I wonder if he'll care for it?" she said, laying 
 down her brush and holding the book at arm's 
 length to get the effect. 
 
 "Of course he will!" answered her mother, 
 warmly. "It is not only the beauty of it, but the 
 affection ! How are you getting on, Dora ?" 
 
 Dora was laboring at a task almost beyond her 
 fourteen years, consisting of a negligee shirt of 
 outing flannel, upon the breast of which she was 
 embroidering a large, intricate design — for Roscoe. 
 She was an ambitious child, 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 going to give him, mother?" 
 
 "Another bath-robe; his old one is so worn. 
 And nothing is too good for my boy." 
 
 "He's coming," said Adeline, who was still look- 
 ing down the road; and they all concealed their 
 birthday work in haste. 
 
 A tall, straight young fellow, with an air of 
 suddenly-faced maturity upon him, opened the gate 
 under the pepper trees and came toward them. 
 
 He had the finely moulded features we see in 
 portraits of handsome ancestors, seeming to call 
 for curling hair a little longish, and a rich profu- 
 sion of ruffled shirt. But his hair was sternly 
 short, his shirt severely plain, his proudly carried 
 head spoke of effort rather than of ease in its 
 attitude. 
 
 Dora skipped to meet him, Cora descended a 
 decorous step or two, Madeline and Adeline, arm 
 
10 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 in arm, met him at the piazza edge, his mother 
 lifted her face. 
 
 "Well, mother, dear!" Affectionately he stooped 
 and kissed her, and she held his hand and stroked 
 it lovingly. The sisters gathered about with teas- 
 ing affection, Dora poking in his coat-pocket for 
 the stick candy her 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 his forehead — "and Joe can run the 
 store till after supper, anyhow." They flew to get 
 him camphor, cologne, a menthol-penciL Dora 
 dragged forth the wicker lounge. He was laid out 
 carefully and fanned and fussed over till his 
 mother drove them all away. 
 
 "Now, just rest," she said. "It's an hour to 
 supper time yet!" And she covered him with her 
 latest completed afghan, gathering up and carrying 
 away the incomplete one and its tumultuous con- 
 stituents. 
 
 He was glad of the quiet, the fresh, sweet air, 
 the smell of flowers instead of the smell of molasses 
 and cheese, soap and sulphur matches. But the 
 headache did not stop, nor the worry that caused 
 it. He loved his mother, he loved his sisters, he 
 loved their home, but he did not love the grocery 
 business which had fallen so unexpectedly upon 
 him at his father's death, nor the load of debt 
 which fell with it. 
 
HANDICAPPED 11 
 
 That they need never have had so large a "place" 
 to "keep up" did not occur to him. He had lived 
 there most of his life, and it was home. That the 
 expenses of running the household were three times 
 what they needed to be, he did not know. His 
 father had not questioned their style of living, nor 
 did he. That a family of five women might, be- 
 tween them, do the work of the house, he did not 
 even consider. 
 
 Mrs. Warden's health was never good, and since 
 her husband's death she had 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 the work 
 of the place, so far as it was done; and Mrs. 
 Warden held it a miracle of management that she 
 could "do with one servant," and the height of 
 womanly devotion on her daughters' part that they 
 dusted the parlor and arranged the flowers. 
 
 Roscoe shut his eyes and tried to rest, but his 
 problem beset him ruthlessly. There was the 
 store — their one and only source of income. There 
 was the house, a steady large expense. There were 
 five women to clothe and keep contented, beside 
 himself. There was the unappeasable demand of 
 the mortgage — and there was Diantha. 
 
 When Mr. Warden died, some four years previ- 
 ously, Roscoe was a lad of about twenty, just 
 home from college, full of dreams of great service 
 to the world in science, expecting to go back for 
 
12 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 his doctor's degree next year. Instead of which 
 the older man had suddenly dropped beneath the 
 burden he had carried with such visible happiness 
 and pride, such unknown anxiety and straining 
 effort; and the younger one had to step into the 
 harness on the spot. 
 
 He was brave, capable, wholly loyal to his mother 
 and sisters, reared in the traditions of older days 
 as to a man's duty toward women. In his first 
 grief for his father, and the ready pride with which 
 he undertook to fill his place, he had not in the 
 least estimated the weight of care he was to carry, 
 nor the time that he must carry it. A year, a year 
 or two, a few years, he told himself, as they passed, 
 and he would make more money; the girls, of 
 course, would marry; he could "retire" in time and 
 take up his scientific work again. Then — there was 
 Diantha. 
 
 When he found he loved this young neighbor of 
 theirs, and that she loved him, the first flush of 
 happiness made all life look easier. They had been 
 engaged six months — and it was beginning to dawn 
 upon the young man that 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 better way to take care of his family. 
 The girls did not marry, and even when they did, 
 he had figured this out to a dreary certainty, he 
 would still not be free. To pay the mortgages off, 
 and keep up the house, even without his sisters, 
 would require all the money the store would bring 
 
HANDICAPPED 13 
 
 in for some six years ahead. The young man set 
 his teeth hard and turned his 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 the lounge 
 by her bedroom window, saw them move off to- 
 gether, and sighed. 
 
 "Poor Roscoe!" she said to herself. "It is very 
 hard for him. But he carries his difficulties nobly. 
 He is a son to be proud of." And she wept a little. 
 
 Diantha slipped her hand in his offered arm — ^he 
 clasped it warmly with his, 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 any- 
 how. 
 
 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've got a good home, a good 
 mother, good sisters, and — ^you !" And he took ad- 
 vantage of a high hedge and an empty lot on either 
 side of them. 
 
14 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 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 want to 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 birth- 
 day," the girl pursued. 
 
 "All these are facts, dearest." 
 
 "Now, Ross, will you be perfectly frank with 
 me? M'^y I ask you an — an impertinent 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 you think if Madeline— Kjr 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. 
 
 "Oh — allow it? I asked you what you'd think." 
 
 "I should think it was a disgrace to the family, 
 and a direct reproach to me," he answered. "But 
 it's no use talking about that. None of the girls 
 have any such foolish notion. And I wouldn't per- 
 mit it if they had." 
 
HANDICAPPED 15 
 
 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 trifle higher, 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 for me, 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 to side. "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, as if he would crush it. "It won't 
 be hard with you to help. You're better worth it 
 than Rachael and Leah together." They walked a 
 few steps silently. 
 
 "But how about science?" she asked him. 
 
 "I don't let myself think of it. I'll take that up 
 later. We're young enough, both of us, to wait 
 for our happiness." 
 
 "And have you any idea — we might as well face 
 the worst — how many years do you think that will 
 be, dearest?" 
 
 He was a little annoyed at her persistence. Also, 
 though he would not admit the thought, it did not 
 seem quite the thing for her to ask. A woman should 
 
16 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 not seek too definite a period of waiting. She 
 ought to trust — to just wait on general principles. 
 
 "I can face a thing better if I know just what 
 I'm facing," said the girl, quietly, "and I'd wait 
 for you, if I had to, all my life. Will it be twenty 
 years, do you think?" 
 
 He looked relieved. "Why, no, indeed, darling. 
 It oughtn't to be at the outside more than five. Or 
 six," he added, honest though reluctant. 
 
 "You see, father had no time to settle anything; 
 there were outstanding accounts, and the funeral 
 expenses, and the mortgages. But the business is 
 good; and I can carry it; I can build it up." He 
 shook his broad shoulders determinedly. "I should 
 think it might be within five, perhaps even less. 
 Good things happen sometimes — such as you, my 
 heart's delight." 
 
 They were at her gate now, and she stood a 
 little while to say good-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 they exchanged there, under the large, brilliant 
 California moon. They sat there, silent, now. 
 
 Diantha's heart was full of love for him, and 
 pride and confidence in him; 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 her mind, trained in all the 
 minutias of domestic economy, the Warden family 
 lived in careless wastefulness. That five women 
 — for Dora was older than she had been when she 
 
HANDICAPPED 17 
 
 began to do housework — should require servants, 
 seemed to this New England-bom girl mere lazi- 
 ness and pride. That two young women over 
 twenty should prefer being supported by their 
 brother to supporting themselves, she condemned 
 even more sharply. Moreover, she felt well assured 
 that with a different family to "support," Mr. War- 
 den would never have broken down so suddenly 
 and irrecoverably. Even that funeral — her face 
 hardened as she thought of the conspicuous "lot," 
 the continual flowers, the monument (not wholly 
 paid for yet, that monument, though this she did 
 not know) — all that expenditure to do honor to the 
 man they had worked to death (thus brutally 
 Diantha put it), was probably enough 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 got to get supper, dear," she said, 
 "and you must go. Good-night for the present; 
 you'll be round by and by?" 
 
 "Yes, for a little while, after we close up," said 
 he, and took himself off, not too suddenly, walking 
 straight and proud while her eyes were on him, 
 throwing her a kiss from the corner; but his step 
 lagging and his headache settling down upon him 
 again as he neared the large house with the cupola. 
 
 Diantha watched him out of sight, turned and 
 marched up the path to her own door, her lips set 
 tight, her well-shaped head as straightly held as 
 his. "It's a shame, a cruel burning shame!" she 
 told herself rebelliously. "A man of his ability. 
 
18 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 Why, he could do anything, in his own 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 those women! 
 
 "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, turning slowly in the 
 light afternoon wind; its faint regular me- 
 tallic squeak pricked the dry silence wearingly. 
 Rampant fuchsias, red- jewelled, heavy, ran up its 
 framework, with crowding heliotrope and nastur- 
 tiums. Thick straggling roses hung over the 
 kitchen windows, and a row of dusty eucalyptus 
 trees rustled their stiff leaves, and gave an inef- 
 fectual shade to the house. 
 
 It was one of those small frame houses com- 
 mon to the northeastern states, which must be 
 dear to the hearts of their indwellers. For no other 
 reason, surely, would the cold gray steep-roofed 
 little boxes be repeated so faithfully in the broad 
 glow of a semi-tropical landscape. There was an 
 attempt at a "lawn," the pet ambition of the trans- 
 planted easterner ; and a further attempt at "flower- 
 
20 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 beds," which merely served as a sort of spring- 
 board 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 little bedrooms 
 baked under the roof; only the kitchen spoke of 
 human living, and the living it portrayed was not, 
 to say the least, joyous. It was clean, clean with a 
 cleanness that spoke of conscientious labor and un- 
 remitting care. The zinc mat under the big cook- 
 stove was scoured to a dull glimmer, while that 
 swart altar itself shone darkly from its daily 
 rubbing. 
 
 There was no dust nor smell of dust; no grease 
 spots, no litter anywhere. But the place bore no 
 atmosphere of contented pride, as does a Dutch, 
 German or French kitchen. It spoke of Labor, 
 Economy and Duty — under restriction. 
 
 In the dead quiet of the afternoon Diantha and 
 her mother sat there sewing. The sun poured 
 down through the dangling eucalyptus leaves. The 
 dry air, rich with flower odors, flowed softly in, 
 pushing the white sash curtains a steady inch or 
 two. Ee-errr ! — Ee-errr ! — came the faint whine of 
 the windmill. 
 
 To the older woman rocking in her small splint 
 chair by the rose-draped window, her thoughts 
 dwelling on long dark green grass, the shade of 
 elms, and cows knee-deep in river-shallows; this 
 was California — ^hot, arid, tedious in endless sun- 
 light — a place of exile. 
 
AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER 21 
 
 To the younger, the long seam of the turned 
 sheet pinned tightly to her knee, her needle flying 
 firmly and steadily, and her thoughts full' of pour- 
 ing moonlight through acacia boughs and Ross's 
 murmured words, it was California — rich, warm, 
 full of sweet bloom and fruit, of boundless vitality, 
 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 these things." 
 
 "No — not particularly," her mother answered, 
 "but there's plenty else to do." And she went on 
 with the long neat hemming. Diantha did the 
 "over and over seam" up the middle. 
 
 "What do you do it for anyway. Mother — I al- 
 ways hated this job — and you don't seem to like it." 
 
 "They wear almost twice as long, child, you 
 know. The middle gets worn and the edges don't. 
 
 Now they're reversed. As to liking it " She 
 
 gave a little smile, a smile that was too tired to 
 be sarcastic, but which certainly did not indicate 
 pleasure. 
 
 "What kind of work do you like best — really?" 
 her daughter inquired suddenly, after a silent 
 moment or two. 
 
 "Why— I don't know," said her mother. "I 
 never thought of it. I never tried any but teaching. 
 I didn't like that. Neither did your Aunt Esther, 
 but she's still teaching." 
 
 "Didn't you like any of it?" pursued Dinatha. 
 
22 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 "I liked arithmetic best. I always loved arith- 
 metic, when I went to school — 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't tell sometimes what part 
 I like least!" she answered. Then with sudden 
 heat — "Oh my Child! Don't you marry till Ross 
 can afford at least one girl for you !" 
 
 Diantha put her small, strong hands behind her 
 head and leaned back in her 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 saw anything like the way you 
 manage the money, and I believe you've got every 
 bill since you were married." 
 
 "Yes — I do love accounts," Mrs. Bell admitted. 
 "And I can keep run of things. I've often thought 
 your Father'd have done better if he'd let me run 
 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 with pride ; feeling always nobler power 
 in her than had ever had a fair chance to grow. 
 It seemed to her an interminable dull tragedy; this 
 graceful, eager, black-eyed woman, spending what 
 to the girl was literally a lifetime, in the con- 
 scientious performance of duties she did not love. 
 
AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER 23 
 
 She knew her mother's idea of duty, knew the 
 clear head, the steady will, the active intelligence 
 holding her relentlessly to the task; the chafe and 
 fret of seeing her husband constantly attempting 
 against her judgment, and failing for lack of the 
 help he scorned. Young as she was, she realized 
 that the nervous breakdown of these later years 
 was wholly due to that common misery of "the 
 square man in the round hole." 
 
 She folded her finished sheet in accurate lines 
 and laid it away — taking her mother's also. "Now 
 ycu sit still for once. Mother dear, read or lie down. 
 Don't you stir till supper's ready." 
 
 And from pantry to table she stepped, swiftly 
 and lightly, setting out what was needed, greased 
 her pans and set them before her, and proceeded to 
 make biscuit. 
 
 Her mother watched her admiringly. "How easy 
 you do it!" she said. "I never could make bread 
 without getting flour all over me. You don't spill 
 a speck!" 
 
 Diantha smiled. "I ought to do it easily by this 
 time. Father's got to have hot bread for supper — 
 or thinks he has I — and I've made 'em — every night 
 when I was at home for this ten years back." 
 
 "I guess you have," said Mrs. Bell proudly. 
 "You were only eleven when you made your first 
 batch. I can remember just as well ! I had one of 
 my bad headaches that night — and it did seem as 
 if I couldn't sit up ! But your Father's got to have 
 his biscuit whether or no. And you said, 'Now 
 
24 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 Mother you lie right still on that sofa and let me 
 do it! I can!' And you could — ^You did! They 
 were bettem' mine that first time — and your Father 
 praised 'em — and you've been at it ever since." 
 
 "Yes," said Diantha, with a deeper note of feel- 
 ing than her mother caught, "I've been at it ever 
 since." 
 
 "Except when you were teaching school," pur- 
 sued her mother. 
 
 "Except when I taught school at Medville," 
 Diantha corrected. "When I taught here I made 
 'em just the same." 
 
 "So you did," agreed her mother. "So you did ! 
 No matter how tired you were — ^you wouldn't ad- 
 mit it. You always were the best child!" 
 
 "If I was tired it was not of making biscuits 
 anyhow. I was tired enough of 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 shelf over the stove; then poked 
 among the greasewood roots to find what she 
 wanted and started a fire. "Why don't you get an 
 oil stove ? Or a gasoline ? It would be a lot easier." 
 
 "Yes," her mother agreed. "I've wanted one for 
 twenty years; but you know 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't quarrelled." 
 
 "No indeed we haven't. Mother. Ross is 
 splendid. Only " 
 
AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER 25 
 
 "Only what, Diantha?" 
 
 "Only he's so tied up!" said the girl, brushing 
 every chip froni the hearth. "He's perfectly help- 
 less there, with that mother of his — ^arid those four 
 sisters." 
 
 "Ross is a good son," said Mrs. Bell, "and a good 
 brother. I never saw a better. He's certainly 
 doing his duty. Now if his father'd lived you two 
 could 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 pantry was in its usual deli- 
 cate order, and proceeded to set the table, with light 
 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 his father's debts — I'll be old enough," 
 said Diantha grimly. 
 
 Her mother watched her quick assured move- 
 ments with admiration, and listened with keen 
 sympathy. "I know it's hard, dear child. You've 
 only been engaged six months — and it looks as if 
 it might be some years before Ross'll be able to 
 marry. He's got an awful load for a boy to carry 
 alone." 
 
 "I should say he had!" Diantha burst forth. 
 "Five helpless women!— or three women and two 
 girls. Though Cora's as old as I was when I began 
 
26 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 to 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't approve of it. She 
 thinks the home is the place for a woman — and so 
 does Ross — and so do I," she added rather faintly. 
 
 Diantha put her pan of white puff-balls into the 
 oven, sliced a quantity of smoked beef in thin shav- 
 ings, and made white sauce for it, talking the while 
 as if those 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 
 3nou is this — I'm going away from home. To 
 work." 
 
 Mrs. Bell stopped rocking, stopped fanning, and 
 regarded her daughter with wide frightened eyes. 
 
 "Why, Diantha!" she said, "Why, Diantha! You 
 wouldn't leave your Mother!" 
 
 Diantha drew a deep breath and stood for a 
 moment looking at the feeble little woman in the 
 chair. Then she went to her, knelt down and 
 hugged her close — close. 
 
 "It's not because I don't love you. Mother. It's 
 because I do. And it's not because I don't love 
 Ross either: — it's because I do. I want to take 
 care of you. Mother, and make life easier for you 
 as long as you live. I want to help him — to help 
 carry that awful load — and I'm going — ^to— do 
 —it!" 
 
 She stood up hastily, for a step sounded on the 
 back porch. It was only her sister, who hurried 
 
AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER 27 
 
 in, put a dish on the table, kissed her mother and 
 took another rocking-chair. 
 
 "I just ran in," said she, "to bring those berries. 
 Aren't they beauties? The baby's asleep. Gerald 
 hasn't got in yet. Supper's all ready, 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?" de- 
 manded young Mrs. Peters. "Bless me ! I thought 
 you and she never had any differences! I was 
 always the 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 of nineteen; 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 decided to leave home, that's all." 
 
 "To leave home!" Mrs. Peters sat up straight 
 and stared at her. "To leave home ! — And Mother !" 
 
 "Well?" said Diantha, while the tears rose and 
 ran over from her mother's eyes. "Well, why not? 
 You left home — and Mother — ^before you were 
 eighteen." 
 
 "That's different!" said her sister sharply. "I 
 left to be married, — to have a home of my own. 
 And besides I haven't gone far ! I can see Mother 
 every day." 
 
 "That's one reason I can go now better than 
 
28 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 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 get an- 
 other easy enough." 
 
 Diantha shook her head. "No Mother, I've 
 had enough of that. I've taught for four years. 
 I don't like it, I don't do well, and it exhausts me 
 horribly. And I should never get beyond a thou- 
 sand or fifteen hundred dollars a year if I taught 
 for a lifetime." 
 
 "Well, I declare!" said her sister. "What do 
 you expect to get? I should 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 got to go, of course. A mother expects that. 
 
AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER 29 
 
 But a girl — ^why, Diantha! How can I get along 
 without you! With my health!" 
 
 "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 the door. 
 
 "Father hasn't got used to that rug in fourteen 
 years!" said his youngest daughter laughingly. 
 "And Mother will go and straighten it out after 
 him! I'm bringing Gerald up on better principles. 
 You should just see him 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 the towel — 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 some explanation of this at- 
 tempted joke, "What nonsense are you talking?" 
 he demanded. 
 
 "I think it's nonsense myself," said the pretty 
 young woman — her hand on the doorknob. "But 
 you'd better enjoy those biscuits of Di's while you 
 can — you won't get many more ! There's Gerald — 
 good night!" And off she ran. 
 
 Diantha set the plateful on the table, puffy, 
 brown, and crisply crusted. "Supper's ready," she 
 said. "Do sit down, Mother," ^nd she held the 
 
30 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 chair for her. "Minnie's quite right, Father, 
 though I meant not to tell you till you'd had supper. 
 I am going away to work." 
 
 Mr. Bell regarded his daughter with a stern, slow 
 stare; not so much surprised as annoyed by an un- 
 timely jesting. He ate a hot biscuit in two un- 
 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, still handsome and impressive in 
 appearance, who had been the head of his own 
 household beyond question, ever since he was left 
 the only son of an idolizing mother. But he had 
 never succeeded in being the head of anything else. 
 Repeated failures in the old New England home 
 had resulted in his ruthlessly selling all the prop- 
 erty there ; and bringing his delicate wife and three 
 young children to California. Vain were her pro- 
 tests and objections. It would do her good — best 
 place in the world for children — good for nervous 
 complaints too. A wife's duty was to follow her 
 husband, of course. She had followed, willy nilly; 
 and it was good for the children — there was no 
 doubt of that. 
 
 Mr. Bell had profited little by his venture. They 
 had the ranch, the flowers and fruit and ample 
 living of? that rich soil ; but he had failed in oranges, 
 failed in raisins, failed in prunes, and was now 
 failing in wealth-prcwMsing hens. 
 
AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER 31 
 
 But Mrs. Bell, though an ineffectual house- 
 keeper, did not fail in the children. They had 
 grown up big and vigorous, sturdy, handsome crea- 
 tures, especially the two younger ones. Diantha 
 was good-looking enough. Roscoe Warden thought 
 her divinely beautiful. But her young strength had 
 been heavily taxed from childhood in that complex 
 process known as "helping mother." As a little 
 child she had been of constant service in caring 
 for the babies; and early developed such compet- 
 ence in the various arts of house work as filled her 
 mother with fond pride, and even wrung from her 
 father some grudging recognition. That he did 
 not value it more was because he expected such 
 competence in women, all women; it was their 
 natural field of ability, their duty as wives and 
 mothers. Also as daughters. If they failed in it, 
 that was by illness or perversity. If they suc- 
 ceeded — ^that was a matter of course. 
 
 He ate another of Diantha's excellent biscuits, his 
 grayish-red whiskers slowly wagging; and con- 
 tinued to eye her disapprovingly. She said nothing, 
 but tried to eat; and tried still harder to make her 
 heart go quietly, her cheeks keep cool, and her eyes 
 dry. Mrs. Bell also strove to keep a cheerful 
 countenance; urged food upon her family; even 
 tried to open some topic of conversation; but her 
 gentle words trailed off into unnoticed silence. 
 
 Mr. Bell ate until he was satisfied and betook 
 himself to a comfortable chair by the lamp, where 
 he unfolded the small local paper and lit his pipe. 
 
33 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 "When you've got through with the dishes, 
 Diantha," he said coldy, "I'll hear about this 
 proposition of yours." 
 
 Diantha cleared the table, lowered the leaves, 
 set it back against the wall, spreading the turkey- 
 red cloth upon it. She washed the dishes, — ^her 
 kettle long since boiling, scalded them, wiped them, 
 set them in their places; washed out the towels, 
 wiped the pan and hung it up, swiftly, accurately 
 and with a quietness that would have seemed in- 
 credible to any mistress of heavy-footed servants. 
 Then with heightened color and firm-set mouth, 
 she took her place by the lamplit table and sat still. 
 
 Her mother was patiently darning large socks 
 with many holes — a kind of work she especially 
 disliked. "You'll have to get some new socks. 
 Father," she ventured, "these are pretty well gone." 
 
 "Oh they'll do a good while yet," he replied, not 
 looking at them. "I like your embroidery, my 
 dear." 
 
 That pleased her. She did not like to embroider, 
 but she like to be praised. 
 
 Diantha took some socks and set to work, red- 
 cheeked and excited, but silent yet. Her mother's 
 needle trembled irregularly under and over, and a 
 tear or two slid down her cheeks. 
 
 Finally Mr. Bell laid down his finished paper and 
 his emptied pipe and said. "Now then. Out with it." 
 
 This was not a felicitous opening. It is really 
 astonishing how little diplomacy parents exhibit, 
 how difficult they make it for the young to intro- 
 
AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER 33 
 
 duce a proposition. There was nothing for it but 
 a bald statement, so Diantha made it baldly. 
 
 "I have decided to leave home and to go to 
 work," she said. 
 
 "Don't you have work enough to do at home?" 
 he inquired, with the same air of quizzical superi- 
 ority 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 earn my living. I have given up 
 school-teaching — I don't like it, and there isn't 
 money enough in it. I have plans — which will 
 speak for themselves later." 
 
 "So," said Mr. Bell. "Plans all made, eh? I 
 suppose you've considered your Mother in these 
 plans?" 
 
 "I have," said his daughter. "It is largely on 
 her account that I'm going." 
 
 "You think it'll be good for your Mother's health 
 to lose your assistance, do you?" 
 
 "I know she'll miss me; but I haven't left the 
 work on her shoulders. I am going to pay for a 
 girl — to do the work I've done. It won't cost you 
 any more, Father; and you'll save some — for she'll 
 do the washing too. You didn't object to Hender- 
 son's going away — at eighteen. You didn't object 
 to Minnie's going — at seventeen. Why should you 
 object to my going — at twenty-one." 
 
 "I haven't objected — so far," replied her father. 
 "Have your plans also allowed for the affection 
 and duty you owe your parents?" 
 
34 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 "I have done my duty — as well as I know how," 
 she answered. "Now I am twenty-one, and self- 
 supporting — and have a right to go." 
 
 "Oh yes. You have a right — a legal right — if 
 that's what you base your idea of a child's duty on ! 
 And while you're talking of rights — how about a 
 parent's rights? How about common gratitude! 
 How about what you owe to me — for all the care 
 and pains and cost it's been to bring you up. A 
 child's a rather expensive investment these days." 
 
 Diantha flushed. She had expected this, and yet 
 it struck her like a blow. It was not the first time 
 she had heard it — ^this claim of filial obligation. 
 
 "I have considered that position, Father. I know 
 you feel that way — ^you've often made me feel it. 
 So I've been at some pains to work it out — 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 as follows: 
 
 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 
 
AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER 35 
 
 his beard, half in anger, half in unavoidable 
 amusement. Perhaps there was a tender feeling 
 too, as he remembered that doctor's bill — the first 
 he ever paid, with the other, when she had scarlet 
 fever; and saw the exact price of the high chair 
 which had served all three of the children, but of 
 which she magnanimously shouldered the whole 
 expense. 
 
 The clothing total was so large that it made him 
 whistle — he knew he had never 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 150.00 
 
 Five years averaging $50 each 
 
 year 350.00 
 
 $530.00 
 
 The rest was "Mother's labor," averaging twenty 
 full days a year at $2 a day, $40 a year. For fif- 
 teen years, $600.00. Mother's labor— on one 
 child's clothes— footing up to $600.00. It looked 
 strange to see cash value attached to that unfailing 
 source of family comfort and advantage. 
 
 The school expenses puzzled him a bit, for she 
 had only gone to public schools ; but she was count- 
 
36 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 ing books and slates and even pencils — it brought 
 up evenings long passed by, the sewing wife, the 
 studying children, the "Say, Father, I've got to 
 have a new slate — ^mine's broke!" 
 
 "Broken, Dina," her Mother would gently cor- 
 rect, 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 much come to think of it, even 
 the red-edged ones, wound with black, that she al- 
 ways wanted. 
 
 Board and lodging was put low, at $3.00 per 
 week, but the items had a footnote 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 little bedroom 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 mis- 
 cellaneous, which he smiled to observe made just an 
 even figure, and suspected she had put in for that 
 purpose as well as from generosity. 
 
 "This board account looks kind of funny," he 
 said, "only fourteen years of it!" 
 
 "I didn't take table-board — ^nor a room — ^the first 
 
AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER 37 
 
 year — nor much the second. I've allowed $1.00 a 
 week for that, and $2.00 for the third— that takes 
 out two, you see. Then it's $156 a year till I was 
 fourteen and earned board and wages, two more 
 years at $156 — and I've paid 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. 'Cording to 
 this, you owe me $3,600.00, young woman ! I didn't 
 think it cost that much 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 the case. This account 
 was as clear and honest as the first and full of 
 exasperating detail. She laid before him the second 
 sheet of figures and watched while he read, ex- 
 plaining hurriedly : 
 
 "It was a clear expense for ten years — ^not count- 
 ing help with the babies. Then I began to do 
 housework regularly — when I was ten or eleven, 
 two hours a day; three when I was twelve and 
 thirteen — real work you'd have had to pay for, and 
 I've only put it at ten cents an hour. Then Mother 
 was sick the year I was fourteen, and I did it all 
 but the washing — all a servant would have done for 
 $5.00 a week. Ever since then I have done three 
 hours a day outside of school, full grown work 
 now, at twenty cents an hour. That's what we 
 have to pay here, you know." 
 
38 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 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 319.00 
 
 an hour 319.00 
 
 One year full wages at $5.00 a 
 
 week 360.00 
 
 Six years and a half, three hours 
 a day at 20c 1433.50 
 
 $3048.50 
 Mr. Bell mediated carefully on these figures. To 
 think of that child's labor footing up to two 
 thousand dollars and over ! It was lucky a man 
 had a wife and daughters to do this work, or he 
 could never support a family. 
 
 Then came her school-teaching years. She had 
 always been a fine scholar and he had felt very 
 proud of his girl when she got a good school posi- 
 tion in her eighteenth year. 
 
 California salaries were higher than eastern ones, 
 and times had changed too; the year he taught 
 school he remembered the salary was only $300 
 — 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. Out of this 
 she had a balance in the bank of $550. He was 
 
AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER 39 
 
 pleased to see that she had been so saving. And 
 her clothing account — little enough he admitted for 
 four years and six months, $300. All incidentals 
 for the whole time, $50.00— this with her balance 
 made just $900. That left $3,100. 
 
 "Twenty-one hundred dollars unaccounted for, 
 young lady ! — besides this nest tgg in the bank — I'd 
 no idea you were so wealthy. What have you done 
 with all that?" 
 
 "Given it to you. Father," said she quietly, and 
 handed him the third sheet of figures. 
 
 Board and lodging at $4.00 a week for 4J/^ 
 years made $936, that he could realfze; but "cash 
 advance" $1,164 more — ^he could not believe it. 
 That time her mother was so sick, and Diantha had 
 paid both the doctor and the nurse — ^yes — he had 
 been much cramped that year — and nurses come 
 high. For Henderson, Jr.'s, expenses to San Fran- 
 cisco — and again for Henderson when he was out 
 of a job — Mr. Bell remembered the boy's writing 
 for the money, and his not having it — and Mrs. 
 Bell saying she could arrange with Diantha. 
 
 Arrange ! And that girl had kept this niggardly 
 account of it ! For Minnie's trip to the Yosemite — 
 and what was this ? — for his raisin experiment — for 
 the new horse they simply had to have for the dry- 
 ing apparatus that year he lost so much in apricots 
 — and for the spraying materials — yes, he could not 
 deny the items, and they covered that $1,164 
 exactly. 
 
40 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 Then came the deadly balance of the account be- 
 tween them. 
 
 Her labor $3,047.00 
 
 Her board 936.00 
 
 Her "cash advanced" 1,164.00 
 
 $4,147.00 
 His expense for her 3,600.00 
 
 Due her from him $547.00 
 
 Diantha revolved her pencil between firm palms, 
 and looked at him rather quizzically; while her 
 mother rocked and darned and wiped away an oc- 
 casional tear. She almost wished ene 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 cold dollars 
 the work that every decent girl does for her family 
 and is glad to ! 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, "to think that a girl who can earn nine 
 hundred dollars a year teaching school, and stay at 
 home and do her duty by her family besides, should 
 plan to desert her mother outright — now she's old 
 and sick! Of course I can't stop you! You're of 
 
AN UNNATURAL DAUGHTER 41 
 
 age, and children nowadays have no sense of 
 natural obligation after they're grown up. You 
 can go, of course, and disgrace the family as you 
 propose — ^but you needn't expect to have me con- 
 sent to it or approve of it — or of you. It's a 
 shameful thing — and you are an unnatural 
 daughter — that's all I've got to say!" 
 
 Mr. Bell took his hat and went out — a conclusive 
 form of punctuation much used by men in dis- 
 cussions 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 you head 
 under ! 
 
 Dive through the weight and the wash and the thun- 
 der — 
 
 Look out for the undertow! 
 
 IF DIANTHA imagined that her arithmetical 
 victory over a too-sordid presentation of the 
 parental claim was a final one, she soon found 
 herself mistaken- 
 It is easy to say — ^putting an epic in an epigram 
 — "She seen her duty and she done it!" but the 
 space and time covered are generally as far beyond 
 our plans as the estimates of an amateur mountain 
 climber exceed his achievements. 
 
 Her determination was not concealed by her out- 
 raged family. Possibly they thought that if the 
 matter was well aired and generally discussed, the 
 daring offender might reconsider. Well-aired it 
 certainly was, and widely discussed by the parents 
 of the little town before young people who sat in 
 dumbness, or made faint defense. It was also dis- 
 
BREAKERS 43 
 
 cussed by the young people, but not before their 
 parents. 
 
 She had told Ross, first of all, meaning to have 
 a quiet talk with him to clear the ground before 
 arousing her own family; but he was suddenly 
 called away just as she opened the subject, by a 
 man on a wheel — some wretched business about the 
 store of course — and sent word that night that he 
 could not come up again. Couldn't come up the 
 next night either. Two long days — two long eve- 
 nings without seeing him. Well — ^if she went 
 away she'd have to get used to that. 
 
 But she had so many things to explain, so much 
 
 • to say to make it right with him ; she knew well 
 
 what a blow it was. Now it was all over town, 
 
 and she had had no chance to defend her position. 
 
 The neighbors called. Tall bony Mrs. Delafield 
 who lived nearest to them and had known Diantha 
 for some years, felt it her duty to make a special 
 appeal — or attack rather; and brought with her 
 stout Mrs. Schlosster, whose ancestors and tradi- 
 tions were evidently -of German extraction. 
 
 Diantha retired to her room when she saw these 
 two bearing down upon the house; but her mother 
 called her to make a pitcher of lemonade for them 
 — and having entered there was no escape. They 
 harried her with questions, were increasingly 
 offended by her reticence, and expressed disap- 
 proval with a fullness that overmastered the girl's 
 self-control. 
 
 "I have as much right to go into business as any 
 
44 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 other citizen, Mrs. Delafield," she said, with re- 
 pressed intensity. "I am of age and live in a free 
 country. What you say of children no longer ap- 
 plies to me." 
 
 "And what is this mysterious business you're 
 goin' into — if one may inquire? Nothin' you're 
 ashamed to mention, I hope ?" asked Mrs. Delafield. 
 
 "If a woman refuses to mention her age is it be- 
 cause she's ashamed of it?" 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 ; but she agreed to the principle 
 advanced and made no comment. 
 
 Diantha listened to quite a volume of detailed 
 criticism, inquiry and condemnation, and finally 
 rose to her feet with the stiff courtesy of the young. 
 
 "You must excuse me now," she said with set 
 lips. "I have some necessary work to do." 
 
 She marched upstairs, shut her bedroom door and 
 locked it, raging inwardly. "It's none of their busi- 
 ness! Not a shadow! Why should Mother sit 
 there and let them talk to me like that ! One would 
 think childhood had no limit — unless it's matri- 
 mony !" 
 
 This reminded her of her younger sister's airs 
 of superior wisdom, and did not conduce to a pleas- 
 anter frame of mind. "With all their miserable 
 little conventions and idiocies! And what 'they'll 
 
BREAKERS 45 
 
 say,' and 'they'll think!' As if I cared! Minnie'll 
 be just such another!" 
 
 She heard the ladies going out, still talking con- 
 tinuously, a faint response from her mother now 
 and then, a growing quiet as their steps receded 
 toward the gate; and then another deeper voice 
 took up the theme and heavily approached. 
 
 It was the minister! Diantha dropped into her 
 rocker and held the arms tight. "Now I'll have to 
 take it again I suppose. But he ought to know me 
 well enough to understand." 
 
 "Diantha!" called her mother "Here's Dr. 
 Major;" and the girl washed her face and came 
 down again. 
 
 Dr. Major was a heavy elderly man with a strong 
 mouth and a warm hand clasp. "What's all this I 
 hear about you, young lady?" he demanded, hold- 
 ing her hand and looking her straight in the eye. 
 "Is this a new kind of Prodigal Daughter we're en- 
 countering?" 
 
 He did not look nor sound condemnatory, and as 
 she faced him she caught a twinkle in the wise old 
 eyes. 
 
 "You can call it that if you want to," she said, 
 "only 1 thought the Prodigal 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'm going to ask you to ex- 
 cuse me, and go and lie down for a little. I do be- 
 lieve she'll listen to you more than to anybody." 
 
 The mother retired, feeling sure that the good 
 
46 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 man who had known her daughter 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, the custom of ages, the pastoral 
 habit of control and protection, the father's instinct, 
 the man's objection to a girl's adventure. But it 
 was courteous, kind and rationally put, and she 
 met it point by point with the whole-souled argu- 
 ments of a new position, the passionate enthusiasm 
 of her years. 
 
 They called a truce. 
 
 "I can see that you think its your duty, young 
 woman — that's the main thing. I think you're 
 wrong. But what you believe to be right you have 
 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 remarkably good 
 child. If you have to sow this kind of wild oats — " 
 they both smiled at this, "I guess we can't stop you. 
 I'll keep your secret — " 
 
 "It's not a secret really," the girl explained, "I'll 
 tell them as soon as I'm settled. Then they can tell 
 — if they' want to." And they both smiled again. 
 
 "Well — I won't tell till I hear of it then. And— 
 yes, I guess I can furnish that document with a 
 clean conscience." 
 
 She gave him paper and pen and he wrote, with 
 a grin, handing her the result. 
 
 She read it, a girlish giggle lightening the atmo- 
 sphere. "Thank you !" she said earnestly. "Thank 
 
BREAKERS 47 
 
 you ever so much. I knew you would help me." 
 
 "If you get stuck anywhere just let me know," 
 he said rising. "This Proddy Gal may want a re- 
 turn ticket yet !" 
 
 "I'll walk first!" said Diantha. 
 
 "Oh Dr. Major," cried her mother from the 
 window, "Don't go ! We want you to stay to sup- 
 per of course !" 
 
 But he had other calls to make, he said, and 
 went away, his big hands clasped behind him; his 
 kead bent, smiling one minute and shaking his head 
 the next. 
 
 Diantha leaned against a pearly eucalyptus trunk 
 and watched him. She would miss Dr. Major. 
 But who was. this approaching? Her heart sank 
 miserably. Mrs. Warden — and all the girls. 
 
 She went to meet them — perforce. Mrs. War- 
 den had always been kind and courteous to her ; the 
 girls she had not seen very much of, but they had 
 the sweet Southern manner, were always polite. 
 Ross's mother she must love. Ross's sisters too — 
 if she could. Why did the bottom drop out of her 
 courage at sight of them? 
 
 "You dear child !" said Mrs. Warden, kissing her. 
 "I know just how you feel ! 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. Delafield dropped in just now 
 and told us. You ought to have seen him!" 
 
 "He didn't believe it of course," Adeline put in. 
 
48 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 "And he wouldn't say a thing — ^not a thing to 
 blame you." 
 
 "We said we'd come over right oflE — and tried to 
 bring him — ^but he said he'd got to go back to the 
 store," Coraline explained. 
 
 "He was mad, though!" said Dora; "/ 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. V/e're going right back, its near sup- 
 per time. No, we can't think of staying, of course 
 not, no indeed ! — But we had to come over and hear 
 about this dear child's idea! — Now tell us all about 
 it, Diantha!" 
 
 There they sat — five pairs of curious eyes — and 
 her mother's sad ones — all kind — ^all utterly in- 
 capable 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 your mother!" 
 
BREAKERS 49 
 
 "I don't want to leave them," protested Diantha, 
 trying to keep her voice steady. "It is simply that 
 I have made up my mind I can do better elsewhere." 
 
 "Do what better?" asked Mrs. Warden with 
 sweet patience, which reduced Diantha 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 in- 
 quisitor; while the girls cried, "What do you want 
 to 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 more money in order to 
 marry sooner — she had hardly put it to herself that 
 way. She could not make them see in a few mo- 
 ments that her plan was to do far more for her 
 mother than she would otherwise ever be able to. 
 And as to making them understand the larger 
 principles at stake — the range and 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? Your mother, 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 public 
 at present!" 
 
 Her daughter looked at her with vivid gratitude, 
 but the words "made public" were a little un- 
 fortunate perhaps. 
 
50 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 "Of course," Mrs. Warden agreed, with her 
 charming smile, "that we can quite 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 asking about the stitch, you 
 remember." 
 
 The necktie was produced and admired, while 
 the other girls asked Diantha if she had her fall 
 dressmaking done yet — and whether she found 
 wash ribbon satisfactory. And presently the whole 
 graceful family withdrew, only Dora holding her 
 head with visible stiffness. 
 
 Diantha sat on the floor by her mother, put her 
 head in her lap and cried. "How splendid of you. 
 Mother!" she sobbed. "How simply splendid! I 
 will tell you now — if — ^if — you won't tell even 
 Father— yet." j, 
 
 "Dear child!" said her Mother, "I'd rather not 
 know in that case. It is — easier." 
 
 "That's what I kept still for !" said the girl. "It's 
 hard enough, goodness knows — as it is! It's 
 nothing wicked, or even risky. Mother dear — 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 h^te to argue with you — even for your 
 own sake, because it is so much to my advantage 
 to hatle 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 so young yet — and — 
 
BREAKERS 51 
 
 well, I had hoped the teaching would satisfy you 
 till Ross was ready." 
 
 Diantha sat up straight. 
 
 "Mother! can't you see Ross'U never be ready! 
 Look at that family ! And the way they live ! And 
 those mortgages ! I could wait and teach and save 
 a little even with Father always losing money; but 
 I can't see Ross wearing himself out for years and 
 years — I just can't bear it !" 
 
 Her mother stroked her fair hair softly, not 
 surprised that her own plea was so lost in thought 
 of the brave young lover. 
 
 "And besides," the girl went on, "if I waited — 
 and saved — and married Ross — what becomes of 
 you, I'd like to know? What I can't stand is to 
 hav^you grow older and sicker — and never have 
 any good time in all your life I" 
 
 Mrs. Bell smiled tenderly. "You dear child!" 
 she said; as if an affectionate five-year-old had 
 offered to get her a rainbow, "I know you mean 
 it all for the best. But, oh my dearest! I'd rather 
 have you — here — at home with me — than any other 
 'good time' you can imagine !" 
 
 She could not see the suffering in her daughter's 
 face; but she felt she had made an impression, 
 and followed it up with heart-breaking sincerity. 
 She caught the girl tcrher breast and held her like 
 a little child. "Oh my baby ! my baby ! Don't leave 
 your mother. I can't bear it !" 
 
 A familiar step outside, heavy, yet uncertain, 
 
53 WHAT DI ANTRA DID 
 
 and they both looked at each other with frightened 
 eyes. 
 
 They had forgotten the biscuits. 
 
 "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 mo- 
 ments." 
 
 "Don't fret the child, Father," said Mrs. Hender- 
 son Bell softly. "She's feeling bad enough." 
 
 "Sh'd think she would," replied her husband. 
 "IMoreover — to my mind — she ought to." 
 
 He got out the small damp local paper and his 
 pipe, and composed himself in obvious patience: 
 yet somehow this patience seemed to fill the kitchen, 
 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 
 on the change: but the tension in the atmosphere 
 was sharply felt by the two women; and possibly 
 by the tall old man, who ate less than usual and 
 said absolutely nothing. 
 
 "I'm going over to see Edwards about that new 
 incubator," he said, when the meal was over, and 
 departed; and Mrs Bell, after trying in vain to do 
 her mending, wiped her clouded glasses and went 
 to bed. 
 
 Diantha made all neat and tidy; washed her 
 own wet eyes again, and went out under the moon. 
 In that broad tender mellow light she drew a deep 
 
BREAKERS 53 
 
 breath and stretched her strong young arms toward 
 the sky in dumb appeal. 
 
 "I knew it would be hard," she murmured to 
 herself, "That is, I knew the facts — ^but I didn't 
 know the feelings!" 
 
 She stood at the gate between the cypresses, sat 
 waiting under the acacia boughs, walked restlessly 
 up and down the path outside, the dry pepper 
 berries crushed softly under foot; bracing herself 
 for one more struggle — and the hardest of all. 
 
 "He will understand !" she told herself, over and 
 over, but at the bottom of her heart she knew he 
 wouldn't. 
 
 He came at last; a slower, wearier step than 
 usual; came and took both her 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. Her eyes 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 beside him. "My poor Little Girl! 
 Vou haven't had a chance yet to really tell me about 
 this thing, and I want you to right now. Then I'm 
 going to kill about forty people in this town! 
 Somebody has been mighty foolish." 
 
 She squeezed his hand, but found it very difficult 
 to speak. His love, his sympathy, his tenderness, 
 were so delicious after this day's trials — and before 
 those further ones she could so well anticipate. 
 S^^ didn't wish to cry any more, that would by 
 
54 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 no means strengthen her position, and she found 
 she couldn't seem to speak without crying. 
 
 "One would think to hear the good people of 
 this town that you were about to leave home and 
 mother for — ^well, for a trip to the moon!" he 
 added. "There isn't any agreement as to what 
 you're going to do but they're unanimous as to its 
 being entirely wrong. Now suppose you tell me 
 about it." 
 
 "I will," said Diantha. "I began to the other 
 night, you know, you first of 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. Now dear — 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 have two, three, yes four, things 
 to consider: — My own personal problem — my 
 family's — ^your's — 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 that myself." 
 
 "Well — I won't talk about it if you don't want 
 me to. There are the other three." 
 
 "I won't question your second, nor your impos- 
 ing third, but isn't the first one — your own personal 
 problem — a good deal answered?" he suggested, 
 holding her close for a moment. 
 
BREAKERS 55 
 
 "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't suppose — in spite of your loving 
 me, that I can make you see it as I do. But I'll 
 be just as clear as I can. There are some years 
 before us before we can be together. In that time 
 I intend to go away and undertake a business I am 
 interested in. My purpose is to — deyelop the work, 
 to earn money, to help my family, and to — ^well, 
 not to hinder you." 
 
 "I don't understand, I confess," he said. "Don't 
 you propose to tell me what this 'work' is?" 
 
 "Yes — I — will — certainly. But not yet dear! 
 Let me try to show you how I feel about it." 
 
 "Wait," said he. "One thing I want to be sure 
 of. Are you doing this with any quixotic notion of 
 helping me — in my business? Helping me to take 
 
 care of my family? Helping me to " he stood 
 
 up now, looking very tall 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 you 
 didn't?" 
 
 "It would be absolutely wrong, all of it," he 
 answered. "I cannot believe that the woman I 
 love would — could take such a position." 
 
 "Look here, Ross !" said the girl earnestly. "Sup- 
 pose you knew where there was a gold mine — knew 
 
56 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 it — ^and by going away a few years you could get 
 a real fortune — wouldn't you do it?" 
 
 "Naturally I should," he agreed. 
 
 "Well, suppose it wasn't a gold mine, but a busi- 
 ness, a new system like those cigar stores — or — 
 some patent amusement specialty — or anything — 
 that you knew was better than what you're doing 
 — wouldn't you 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 of real benefit to all of us, 
 something worth while to do — and not only for us, 
 but for everybody — a real piece of progress — and 
 I'm going to leave my people — and even you ! — for 
 a while — to make us all happier 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 noble pur- 
 poses. But you don't get the man's point of view — 
 naturally. What's more 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 add this new difficulty to 
 what we've got to carry ! I know you have a hard 
 time of it at home. Some day, please God, you 
 shall have an easier one ! And I'm having a hard 
 time too — I don't deny it. But you are the greatest 
 joy and comfort I have, dear — ^you know that. If 
 
BREAKERS 57 
 
 you go away — it will be harder and slower and 
 longer — ^that's all. I shall have you to worry a)bout 
 too. Let somebody else do the gold-mine, dear — 
 you stay here and comfort your Mother as long as 
 you can — and me. How can I get along without 
 you?" 
 
 He tried to put his arm around her again, but 
 she drew back. "Dear," she said. "If I deUberately 
 do what I think is right — against your wishes — 
 what will you do?" 
 
 "Do?" he laughed bitterly. "What can I do? 
 I'm tied by the leg here — I can't go after you. I've 
 nothing to pull you out of a scrape with if you 
 get in one. I couldn't do anything but — stand it." 
 
 "And if I go ahead, and do what you don't 
 like — and make you — suffer — would you — would 
 you rather be free?" Her voice was very low and 
 shaken, but he heard her well enough. 
 
 "Free of you? Free of you?" He caught her 
 and held her and kissed her over and over. 
 
 "You are mine !" he said. "You have given your- 
 self to me! You cannot leave me. Neither of us 
 is free — ever again." But she struggled away 
 from him. 
 
 "Both of us are free — to do what we think right, 
 always Ross ! I wouldn't try to stop you if you 
 thought it was your duty to go to the North Pole !" 
 She held him a little way off. "Let me tell you, 
 dear. Sit down — let me tell you all about it." 
 But he wouldn't sit down- 
 
58 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 "I don't think I want to know the details," he 
 said. "It doesn't much matter what you're going 
 to do — if you really go away. I can't stop you — I 
 see that. If you think this thing is your 'duty' 
 you'll do it if it kills us all — and you too ! If you 
 have to go — I shall do nothing — can do 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 to me." 
 
 He folded his arms now — did not attempt to 
 hold her — gave her the freedom she asked and 
 promised her the love she had almost feared to 
 lose — and her whole carefully constructed plan 
 seemed like a child's sand castle for a moment; her 
 heroic decision the wildest folly. 
 
 He was not even looking at her; she saw his 
 strong, clean-cut profile dark against the moonlit 
 house, a settled patience in its lines. Duty! Here 
 was duty, surely, with tenderest happiness. She 
 was leaning toward him — ^her hand was seeking his, 
 when she heard through the fragrant silence a 
 sound from her mother's room — the faint creak of 
 her light rocking 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 withering away of youth and hope 
 and ambition into a gray waste of ineffectual sub- 
 missive labor — not only of her life, but of thou- 
 sands upon thousands like her — it all rose up like a 
 flood in the girl's hot young heart. 
 
BREAKERS 59 
 
 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 rV 
 
 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 Isabfl would wait to thoroughly wash 
 her long artistic hands ; and put on another 
 dress. She hated the smell of cooking in her gar- 
 ments; hated it worse on her white fingers; and 
 now to look at the graceful erect figure, the round 
 throat with the silver necklace about it, the soft 
 smooth hair, silver-filletted, the negative beauty of 
 the dove-colored gown, specially designed for home 
 evenings, one would never dream she had set the 
 table so well — and cooked the steak so abominably. 
 
 Isabel was never a cook. In the many servant- 
 less gapes of domestic life in Orchardina, there 
 was always a strained atmosphere in the Pome 
 household. 
 
 "Dear," said Mr. Pome, "might I petition to 
 have the steak less cooked? I know you don't 
 
A CRYING NEED 61 
 
 like to do it, so why not shorten the process?" 
 
 "I'm sorry," she answered, "I always forget 
 about the steak from one time to the next." 
 
 "Yet we've had it three times this week, my 
 dear." 
 
 "I thought you liked it better than anything," 
 said she with marked gentleness. "I'll get you 
 other things — oftener." 
 
 "It's a shame you should have this to do, Isabel. 
 I never meant you should 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, still with repression. "I'm not 
 complaining, am I? I'm only sorry you should be 
 disappointed in me." 
 
 "It's not you, dear girl! You're all right! It's 
 just this everlasting bother. Can't you get any- 
 body 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 methods 
 were dissimilar and she frankly told him she pre- 
 ferred to do it alone. 
 
 So she slipped off the silk and put on the 
 gingham again, washed the dishes with the labored 
 accuracy of a trained mind doing unfamiliar work, 
 made the bread, redressed at last, and joined him 
 about nine o'clock. 
 
62 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 "It's too late to go anywhere, I suppose?" he 
 ventured. 
 
 "Yes — ^and I'm too tired. Besides — ^we can't 
 leave Eddie alone." 
 
 "Oh, yes — I forget. Of course we can't." 
 
 His hand stole out to take hers. "I am sorry, 
 dear. It's awfully rough on 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't want to be doing any- 
 thing else." 
 
 "Yes. That's the mischief of it!" he agreed; 
 and she looked at him in the 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 scents about them, till Eddie did 
 wake presently, and Isabel went upstairs. 
 
 She slept little that night, lying quite still, 
 listening to her husband's regular breathing so 
 near her, and the lighter sound from the crib. "I 
 am a very happy woman," she told herself 
 resolutely; but there was no outpouring sense of 
 love and joy. She knew she was happy, but by 
 no means felt it. So she stared at the moon 
 shadows and thought it over. 
 
 She had planned the little house herself, with 
 
A CRYING NEED 63 
 
 such love, such hope, such tender, happy care! 
 Not her first work, which won high praise in the 
 school in Paris, not the prize-winning plan for the 
 library, now gracing Orchardina's prettiest square, 
 was as dear to her as this most womanly task — 
 the making of a home. 
 
 It was the library success which brought her 
 here, fresh from her foreign studies, and Orchar- 
 dina accepted with western cordiality the youth 
 and beauty of the young architect, though a bit 
 surprised at first that "I. H. Wright" was an 
 Isabel. In her further work of overseeing the con- 
 struction of that library, she had met Edgar Porne, 
 one of the numerous eager young real estate men 
 of that region, who showed a liberal enthusiasm 
 for the general capacity of women in the profes- 
 sions, and a much warmer feeling for the personal 
 attractions of this one. 
 
 Together they chose the lot on pepper-shaded 
 Inez Avenue; together they watched the rising of 
 the concrete walls and planned the garden walks 
 and seats, and the tiny precious pool in the far 
 corner. He was so sympathetic ! so admiring ! 
 He took as much pride in the big "drawing-room" 
 on the third floor as she did herself. "Architecture 
 is such fine work to do at home!" they had both 
 agreed. "Here you have your north light — your 
 big table — plenty of room for work! You will 
 grow famouser and famouser," he had lovingly 
 insisted. And she had answered, "I fear I shall 
 be too contented, dear, to want to be famous." 
 
64 WHAT DI ANTRA DID 
 
 That was only some year and a-half ago — ^but 
 Isabel, lying there by her sleeping husband and 
 sleeping child, was stark awake and only by asser- 
 tion happy. She was thinking, persistently, of 
 dust. She loved a delicate cleanliness. Her art 
 was a precise one, her studio a workshop of white 
 paper and fine pointed hard pencils, her painting 
 the mechanical perfection of an even wash of 
 color. And she saw, through the floors and walls 
 and the darkness, the dust in the little shaded 
 parlor — two days' dust at least, and Orchardina 
 is very dusty! — dust in the dining-room gathered 
 since yesterday — the dust in the kitchen — she would 
 not count time there, and the dust — ^here she 
 counted it inexorably — ^the dust of eight days in 
 her great, light workroom upstairs. Eight days 
 since she had found time to go up there. 
 
 Lying there, wide-eyed and motionless, she stood 
 outside in thought and looked at the house — as she 
 used to look at it with him, before they were 
 married. Then, it had roused every blessed hope 
 and dream of wedded joy — it seemed a casket of 
 uncounted treasures. Now, in this dreary mood, 
 it seemed not only a mere workshop, but one of 
 alien tasks, continuous, impossible, like those set 
 for the Imprisoned Princess by bad fairies in the 
 old tales. In thought she entered the well-propor- 
 tioned door — ^the Gate of Happiness — and a musty 
 smell greeted her — she had forgotten to throw out 
 those flowers! She turned to the parlor — no, the 
 -piano keys were gritty, one had to clean them 
 
A CRYING NEED 65 
 
 twice a day to keep that room as she liked it. 
 
 From room to room she flitted, in her mind, 
 trying to recall the exquisite things they meant to 
 her when she had planned them; and each one 
 now opened glaring and blank, as a place to work 
 in — and the work undone. 
 
 "If I were an abler woman !" she breathed. And 
 then her common sense and common honesty made 
 her reply to herself: "I am able enough — in my 
 own work! Nobody can do everything. I don't 
 believe Edgar'd do it any better than I do — He 
 don't have to ! — and then such a wave of bitterness 
 rushed over her that she was afraid, and reached 
 out one hand to touch the crib — the other to her 
 husband. 
 
 He awakened instantly. "What is it, Dear?" he 
 asked. "Too tired to sleep, you poor darling? But 
 you do love me a little, don't you ?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" she answered. "I do. Of course I 
 do ! I'm just tired, I " 
 
 "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 
 no attention to the sounds of wailing from above. 
 
 "Well, if you won't I will!" burst forth the 
 father at last, and ran upstairs, returning pres- 
 
66 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 entiy with a fine boy of some eleven months, who 
 ceased to bawl in these familiar arms, and con- 
 tented himself, for the moment, with a teaspoon. 
 
 "Aren't you going to feed him?" asked Mr. 
 Pome, with forced patience. 
 
 "It isn't time yet," she announced wearily. "He 
 has to have his bath first." 
 
 "Well," with a patience evidently forced farther, 
 "isn't it time to feed me?" 
 
 "I'm very sorry," she said. "The oatmeal is 
 burned again. You'll have to eat cornflakes. And 
 — the cream is sour — the ice didn't come — or at 
 least, perhaps I was out when it came — and then I 
 forgot it. ... I had to go to the employment 
 agency in the morning! . . . I'm sorry I'm so 
 — so incompetent." 
 
 "So am I," he commented drily. "Are there any 
 crackers for instance? And how 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, EUie. You are a first-class architect, any- 
 how — one can't be everything. We'll get another 
 
A CRYING NEED 67 
 
 girl in time. This is just 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 not my trade! I'm willing to 
 work, I like to work, but I can't hear housework! 
 I can't seem to learn it at all! And the servants 
 will not do it properly !" 
 
 "Perhaps they know your limitations, and take 
 advantage of them! But cheer up, dear. It's no 
 killing matter. Order by 'phone, don't forget the 
 ice, and I'll try to get home early and help. Don't 
 cry, dear girl, I love 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 loving hug; but after he had gone, 
 the gloom settled upon her spirits once more. She 
 bathed the baby, fed him, put him to sleep; and 
 came back to the table. The screen door had been 
 left ajar and the house was buzzing with flies, hot, 
 with a week's accumulating disorder. The bread 
 she made last night in fear and trembling, was 
 hanging fatly over the pans; perhaps sour already. 
 She clapped it into the oven and turned on the heat. 
 
 Then she stood, undetermined, looking about that 
 messy kitchen while the big flies bumped and buzzed 
 on the windows, settled on every dish, and swung 
 in giddy circles in the middle of the room. Turn- 
 ing swiftly she shut the door on them. The dining- 
 room was nearly as bad. . She began to put the cups 
 and plates together for removal; but set her tray 
 down suddenly, and went into the comparative 
 
68 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 coolness of the parlor, closing the dining-room door 
 behind her. 
 
 She was quite tired enough to cry after several 
 nights of broken rest and days of constant dis- 
 comfort and irritation; but a sense of rising anger 
 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 his wife! 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 ! He hasn't had to change his 
 business !" 
 
 She marched up and down the scant space, and 
 then stopped short and laughed drily, continuing 
 her smothered sohloquy. 
 
 " 'Do you love me ?' they ask, and, 'I will make 
 you happy!' they say; and you get married — and 
 after that it's Housework!" 
 
 "They don't say, 'Will you be my Cook?' 'Will 
 you be my Chambermaid?' 'Will you give up a 
 good clean well-paid business that you love — that 
 has big hope and power and beauty in it — and come 
 and keep house for me ?' " 
 
 "Love him? I'd be in Paris this minute if I 
 didn't! What has 'love' to do with dust and 
 grease and flies!" 
 
 Then she did drop on the small sofa and cry 
 tempestuously for a little; but soon arose, fiercely 
 ashamed of her weakness, and faced the day; think- 
 ing of the old lady who had so much to do she 
 
A CRYING NEED 69 
 
 couldn't think what to do 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 nearly half-past nine," she meditated 
 aloud. "If I do the upstairs work I might wake 
 him. I mustn't forget the bread, the dishes, the 
 parlor — oh, these flies! Well — I'll clear the table 
 first!" 
 
 Stepping softly, and handling the dishes with 
 slow care, she cleaned the breakfast table and dark- 
 ened the dining-room, flapping out some of the flies 
 with a towel. Then she essayed the parlor, dusting 
 and arranging with 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 fussed about. "Yes — I'd rather 
 build 'em — ^than to keep one clean !" 
 
 Then were her hopes dashed by a rising wail 
 from above. She sat quite still awhile, hoping 
 against hope that he would sleep again; but he 
 wouldn't. So she brought him down in full cry. 
 
 In her low chair by the window she held him and 
 produced bright and jingling objects from the tall 
 work-basket that stood nearby, sighing again as 
 she glanced at its accumulated mending. 
 
 .Master Eddy grew calm and happy in her arms, 
 but showed a growing interest in the pleasing ma- 
 terials produced for his amusement, and a desire, 
 for a closer acquaintance. Then a penetrating odor 
 
70 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 filled the air, and with a sudden "Oh, dear!" she 
 rose, put the baby on the sofa, and started toward 
 the kitchen. 
 
 At this moment the doorbell rang. 
 
 Mrs. Porne stopped in her tracks and looked at 
 the door. It remained opaque and immovable. She 
 looked at the baby — who jiggled his spools and 
 crowed. Then she flew to the oven and dragged 
 forth the bread, not much burned 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" in the 
 other, who met her with a cheerful inquiring smile. 
 
 "Are you Mrs. Edgar Pome?" 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, her eyes 
 fixed sternly on her visitor the while; as she won- 
 dered whether it was literature, cosmetics or medi- 
 cine. 
 
 She was about to add that she didn't want any- 
 thing, when the young lady produced a card from 
 the Rev. Benjamin A. Miner, Mrs. Porne's par- 
 ticularly revered minister, and stated that she had 
 heard there was a vacancy in her kitchen and she 
 would like the place. 
 
 "Introducing Miss D. Bell, well known to friends 
 of mine." 
 
 "I don't know " said Mrs. Porne, reading the 
 
A CRYING NEED 71 
 
 card without in the least grasping what it said. 
 
 Just then there was a dull falling sound followed 
 by a sharp rising one, and she rushed into the par- 
 lor without more words. 
 
 When she could hear and be heard again, she 
 found Miss Bell seated in the shadowy little hall, 
 serene and cool. "I called on Mr. Miner yesterday 
 when I arrived," said she, "with letters of introduc- 
 tion from my former minister, told him what I 
 wanted to do, and asked him if he could suggest 
 anyone in immediate need of help in this line. He 
 said he had called here recently, and believed you 
 were looking for someone. Here is the letter I 
 showed him," and she handed Mrs. Porne a most 
 friendly and appreciative recommendation of Miss 
 D. Bell by a minister in Jopalez, Inca Co., stating 
 that the bearer was fully qualified to do all kinds 
 of housework, experienced, honest, kind, had 
 worked seven years in one place, and only left it 
 hoping to do better in Southern California. 
 
 Backed by her own pastor's approval this seemed 
 to Mrs. Porne fully sufficient. The look of the girl 
 pleased her, though suspiciously above her station 
 in manner ; service of any sort was scarce and high 
 in Orchardina, and she had been an age-long week 
 without any. "When can you come?" 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 this week 
 from noon to-day to noon next Friday, for seven 
 
73 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 dollars, and then if you are satisfied with my work 
 we can make further arrangements. I do not do 
 laundry work, of course, and don't undertake to 
 have any care of the baby." 
 
 "I take care of my baby myself!" said Mrs. 
 Porne, thinking the new girl was presuming, 
 though her manner was most gently respectful. But 
 a week was not long, she was well recommended, 
 and the immediate pressure in that kitchen where 
 the harvest was so ripe and the laborers so few — 
 "Well — ^you may try the week," she said. "I'll 
 show you your room. And what is your name ?" 
 
 "Miss BeU." 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 When the fig grows 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 the automobile 
 to her friend's door, it was opened by 
 a quick, soft-footed maid with a pleasant face, who 
 showed her into a parlor, not only cool and flower- 
 lit, but having that fresh smell that tells of new- 
 washed floors. 
 
 Mrs. Pome came flying down to meet her, with 
 such a look of rest and comfort as roused instant 
 notice. 
 
 "Why, Belle ! I haven't seen you look so bright 
 in ever so long. It must be the new maid I" 
 
74 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 "That's it— she's 'Bell,' too— 'Miss Bell/ if you 
 please !" 
 
 The visitor looked puzzled. "Is she — a — a 
 friend?" she ventured, not sure of 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 the sudden appearance of this min- 
 istering angel. "She arrived at about quarter of 
 ten. I engaged her inside of five minutes. She 
 was into a gingham 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 it seemed to me! Let's see 
 — it's about five now — seven hours. We have nine 
 rooms, besides the halls and stairs, and my shop. 
 She hasn't touched that yet. But the house is clean 
 —clean! Smell it!" 
 
 She took her guest out into the hall, through the 
 library and dining-room, upstairs where the pleas- 
 ant bedrooms stretched open and orderly. 
 
 "She said that if I didn't mind she'd give it a 
 superficial general cleaning to-day, and be more 
 thorough later!" 
 
 Mrs. Weatherstone looked about her with a rather 
 languid interest. "I'm very glad for you. Belle, 
 dear — but — what an endless nuisance it all is — don't 
 you think so?" 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 75 
 
 "Nuisance! It's slow death! to me at least," 
 Mrs. Porne answered. "But I don't see why you 
 should mind. I thought Madam Weatherstone ran 
 that — ^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 she didn't. That's her life. It was 
 my mother's, too. Always fussing and fussing. 
 Their houses on their backs — like snails!" 
 
 "Don't see why, with ten (or is it fifteen?) serv- 
 ants." 
 
 "It's twenty, I think. But my dear Belle, if you 
 imagine that when you have twenty servants you 
 have neither work nor care — come and try it awhile, 
 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 this business" — 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 her friend. 
 
 "Of course I enjoy it, but so does Edgar. Can't 
 a woman enjoy her home, just as a man does, with- 
 out running the shop? I enjoy ocean travel, but 
 I don't want to be either a captain or a common 
 sailor!" 
 
 Mrs. Weatherstone smiled, a little sadly. "You're 
 lucky you have other interests," she said. "How 
 about our bungalow ? Have you got any farther ?" 
 
 Mrs. Porne flushed. "I'm sorry. Viva. You 
 
76 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 ought to have given it to someone else. I haven't 
 gone into that workroom for eight solid days. No 
 help, 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 it now, 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 a seamstress, I suppose." 
 
 "Exactly. That's what she said. If this labor 
 was as important as that of seamstress or governess 
 why not the same courtesy — Oh, she's a most su- 
 perior and opinionated young person, I can see 
 that." 
 
 "I like her looks," admitted Mrs. Weatherstone, 
 "but can't we look over those plans again; there's 
 something I wanted to suggest." And they went 
 up to the big room on the third floor. 
 
 In her shop and at her work Isabel Porne was a 
 different woman. She was eager and yet calm ; full 
 of ideas and ideals, yet with a practical knowledge 
 of details that made her houses dear to the souls 
 of women. 
 
 She pointed out in the new drawings the practical 
 advantages of kitchen and pantry; the simple but 
 thorough ventilation, the deep closets, till her friend 
 fairly laughed at her. "And you say you're not 
 domestic !" 
 
 "I'm a domestic architect, if you like," said Isa- 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 77 
 
 bel; "but not a domestic servant — I'll remember 
 what you say about those windows — it's a good 
 idea," and she made a careful note of Mrs. Weath- 
 erstone's suggestion. 
 
 That lady pushed the plans away from her, and 
 went to the many cushioned lounge in the wide west 
 window, where she sat so long silent that Isabel 
 followed 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 so very much. But he was something." 
 
 Isabel was puzzled. "I knew you so well in 
 school," she said, "and that gay year in Paris. You 
 were always a dear, submissive quiet little thing — 
 but not like this. What's happened, Viva?" 
 
 "Nothing that anybody can help," said her friend. 
 "Nothing that matters. What does matter, any- 
 way? Fuss and fuss and fuss. Dress and enter- 
 tain. Travel till you're tired, and rest till you're 
 crazy! Then — when a real thing happens — there's 
 all this!" and she lifted her black draperies dis- 
 dainfully. "And mourning notepaper and cards and 
 servant's livery — and all the things you mustn't do !" 
 
 Isabel put an arm around her. "Don't mind, 
 dear — ^you'll get over this — ^you are young enough 
 yet — the world is full of things to do!" 
 
 But Mrs. Weatherstone only smiled her faint 
 smile again. "I loved another man, first," she said. 
 "A real one. He died. He never cared for me at 
 all. I cared for nothing else — nothing in life. That's 
 
78 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 why I married Martin Weatherstone — ^not for his 
 old millions — ^but he really cared — and I was sorry 
 for him. Now he's dead. And I'm wearing this — 
 and still 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 things yourself," ventured Mrs. Pome. 
 
 Mrs. Weatherstone laughed. "And turn out the 
 old lady? You don't know her. Why she man- 
 aged her son till he ran away from her — and after 
 he got so rich and imported her from Philadelphia 
 to rule over Orchardina in general and his house- 
 hold in particular, she managed that poor little first 
 wife of his into her grave, and that wretched boy — 
 he's the only person that manages her! She's ut- 
 terly spoiled him — that was his father's constant 
 grief. No, no — let her run the house — ^she thinks 
 she owns it." 
 
 "She's fond of you, isn't she ?" asked Mrs. Pome. 
 
 "Oh, I guess so — ^if I let her have her own way. 
 And she certainly saves me a great deal of trouble. 
 Speaking of trouble, there they are — she said she'd 
 stop for me." 
 
 At the gate puffed the big car, a person in livery 
 rang the bell, and Mrs. Weatherstone kissed her 
 friend warmly, and passed like a heavy shadow 
 along the rose-bordered path. In the tonneau sat a 
 massive old lady in sober silks, with a set impas- 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 79 
 
 sive countenance, severely correct in every feature; 
 and young Mat Weatherstone, sulky because he 
 had to ride with his grandmother now and then. 
 He was not a nice young man. 
 
 Diantha found it hard to write her home let- 
 ters, especially to Ross. She could not tell them of 
 all she meant to do ; and she must tell them of this 
 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 to service" did not seem a step 
 up, that was certain. But she set her red lips 
 tighter and wrote the letters ; wrote them and mailed 
 them that evening; tired though she was. 
 
 Three letters came back quickly. 
 
 Her mother's answer was affectionate, patient, 
 and trustful, though not understanding. 
 
 Her sister's was as unpleasant as she had ex- 
 pected. 
 
 "The idea!" wrote Mrs. Susie. "A girl with a 
 good home to live in and another to look forward 
 to — and able to earn money respectably! to go out 
 and work like a common Irish girl ! Why, Gerald 
 is so mortified he can'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 bravely enough; and sympathized 
 keenly with her mother, and with Ross; but she 
 had not quite visualized the mortification of her 
 
80 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 relatives. She found tears in her eyes over her 
 mother's letter. Her sister's made her both sorry 
 and angry — a most disagreeable feeling — as when 
 you step on the cat on the stairs. Ross's letter she 
 held some time without opening. 
 
 She was in her little upstairs room in the even- 
 ing. She had swept, scoured, scalded and carbolized 
 it, and the hospitally smell was now giving way to 
 the soft richness of the outer air. The "hoo! hoo!" 
 of the little mourning owl came to her ears through 
 the whispering night, and large moths beat noise- 
 lessly against the window screen. She kissed the 
 letter again, held it tightly to her heart for a mo- 
 ment, and opened it. 
 
 "Dearest: I have your letter with its — somewhat 
 surprising — news. It is a comfort to know where 
 you are, that you are settled and in no danger. 
 
 "I can readily imagine that this is but the pre- 
 liminary to something else, as you say so repeatedly; 
 and I can understand also that you are too 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 you do. But I will not disguise 
 from you that this whole business seems to me un- 
 utterably foolish and wrong. 
 
 "I suppose you expect by some mysterious pro- 
 cess to 'develop' and 'elevate' this housework busi- 
 ness; and to make money. I should not love you 
 any better if you made a million — and I would not 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 81 
 
 take money from you — ^you know that, I hope. If 
 in the years we must wait before we can marry, 
 you are happier away from me — working in 
 strange kitchens — or offices — ^that is your affair. 
 
 "I shall not argue nor plead with you. Dear Girl ; 
 I know you think you are doing right; and I have 
 no right, nor power, to prevent you. But if my 
 wish were right and power, you would be here to- 
 night, under the shadow 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 the letter — ^her arms spread wide. The 
 letter grew wetter and wetter, and her shoulders 
 shook from time to time. 
 
 But the hands were tight-clenched, and if you had 
 been near enough you might have heard a dogged 
 repetition, monotonous as a Tibetan prayer mill: 
 "It is right. It is right. It is right." And then: 
 "Help me— please! I need it." Diantha was not 
 "gifted in prayer." 
 
 When Mr. Pome came home that night he found 
 the wifely smile which is supposed to greet all re- 
 turning husbands quite genuinely in evidence. "Oh, 
 Edgar!" cried she in a triumphant whisper, "I've 
 got such a nice girl! She's just as neat and quick; 
 
82 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 you've no idea the work she's done to-day — it looks 
 like another place already. But if things look queer 
 at dinner don't notice it — for I've just given her 
 her head. I was so tired, and baby bothered so, 
 and she said that perhaps she could manage all 
 by herself if I was willing to risk it, so I took baby 
 for a car ride and have only just got back. And I 
 think the dinner's going to be lovely!" 
 
 It was lovely. The dining-room was cool and 
 flyless. The table was set with an assured touch. 
 A few of Orchardina's ever ready roses in a glass 
 bowl 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 an intelligent appreciation 
 of when people want things and how they want 
 them. 
 
 Mrs. Porne quite glowed with exultation, but 
 her husband gently suggested that the newness of 
 the broom was visibly uppermost, and that such pal- 
 pable perfections were probably accompanied by 
 some drawbacks. But he liked her looks, he ad- 
 mitted, and the cooking would cover a multitude of 
 sins. 
 
 On this they rested, while the week went by. It 
 was a full week, and a short one. Mrs. Porne, 
 making hay while the sun shone, caught up a little 
 in her sewing and made some conscience-tormenting 
 calls. 
 
 When Thursday night came around she was sim- 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 83 
 
 ply running over with information to give her hus- 
 band. 
 
 "Such a talk as I have had with Miss Bell ! She 
 is so queer! But she's nice, too, and it's all rea- 
 sonable enough, what she says. You know she's 
 studied this thing all out, and she knows about it — ■ 
 statistics and things. I was astonished till I found 
 she used to teach school. Just think of it ! And to 
 be willing to work out! She certainly does her 
 work beautifully, but — it doesn't seem like having a 
 servant at all. I feel as if I — boarded with her !" 
 
 "Why, she seemed to me very modest and unpre- 
 suming," put in Mr. Pome. 
 
 "Oh, yes, she never presumes. But I mean the 
 capable way she manages — I don't have to tell her 
 one thing, nor to oversee, nor criticize. I spoke of 
 it and she said, 'If I didn't understand the busi- 
 ness I should have no right to undertake it.' " 
 
 "That's a new point of view, isn't it?" asked 
 her husband. "Don't they usually make you teach 
 them their trade and charge for the privilege ?" 
 
 "Yes, of course they do. But then she does have 
 her disadvantages — as you 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, and I 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 labor required in the po- 
 sition, the quality and amount of the different kinds 
 
84 IVHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 of work ; the terms on which she was willing to un- 
 dertake it, and all prefaced by a few remarks on 
 the status of household labor which made Mr. Porne 
 open his eyes. 
 
 Thus Miss Bell: "The ordinary rate for labor in 
 this state, unskilled labor of the ordinary sort, is 
 $3.00 a day. This is in return for the simplest ex- 
 ertion of brute force, under constant supervision 
 and direction, and involving no serious risk to the 
 employer. 
 
 "Household labor calls for the practice of sev- 
 eral distinct crafts, and, to be properly done, re- 
 quires thorough training and experience. Its per- 
 former is not only in a position of confidence, as 
 necessarily entrusted with the care of the employ- 
 er's goods and with knowledge of the most intimate 
 family relations; but the work itself, in maintain- 
 ing the life and health of the members of the house- 
 hold, is of most vital importance. 
 
 "In consideration of existing economic condi- 
 tions, however, I am willing to undertake these in- 
 tricate and responsible duties for a seven day week 
 at less wages than are given the street-digger, for 
 $1.50 a day." 
 
 "Good gracious, my dear!" said Mr. Porne, lay- 
 ing down the paper. "This young woman does ap- 
 preciate her business ! And we're to be let oflE easy 
 at $45.00 a month, are we !" 
 
 "And feel under obligations at that!" answered 
 his wife. "But you read ahead. It is most in- 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 85 
 
 structive. We shall have to ask her to read a paper 
 for the Club!" 
 
 "In further consideration of the conditions of 
 the time, I am willing to accept part payment in 
 board and lodging instead of cash. Such accommo- 
 dations as are usually offered with this position 
 may be rated at $17.00 a month." 
 
 "Oh, 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 that she could get a room as 
 good for a dollar and a-half a week — she had ac- 
 tually made inquiries in this very town! And she 
 could; really a better room, better furnished, that 
 is, and service with it. You know I've always 
 meant to get the girl's room fixed more prettily, 
 but usually they don't seem to mind. And as to 
 food — ^you see she knows all about the cost of 
 things, and the materials she consumes are really 
 not more than two dollars and a half a week, if they 
 are that. She even made some figures for me to 
 prove it — see." 
 
 Mr. Pome 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 five cents 
 per loaf, two slices, one-half cent. Butter at forty 
 cents per pound, one piece, one and a-half cents. 
 Oranges at thirty cents per dozen, one, three cents. 
 Milk at eight cents per quart, on oatmeal one cent. 
 
86 WHAT DI ANTRA DID 
 
 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 idea food, just the material, 
 cost so little. It's the labor, she says, that makes it 
 cost even in the cheapest restaurant." 
 
 "I see," said Mr. Porne. "And in the case of the 
 domestic servant we furnish the materials and she 
 furnishes the labor. She cooks her own food and 
 waits on herself — naturally it wouldn't come high. 
 What does she make it? 
 
 'Food, average per day $0.35 
 
 Room, $1.50 per week, av'ge per day .23 
 
 .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 dear EUie, 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 aw- 
 ful, and we're always telling about their getting 
 their board and lodging clear — as if we gave 'em 
 that out of the goodness of our hearts !" 
 
 "Exactly, my dear. And this amazing and arith- 
 metical young woman makes us feel as if we were 
 giving her wampum instead of money — ^mere primi- 
 tive barter of ancient days in return for her twen- 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 87 
 
 tieth century services ! How does she do her work 
 — that's the main question." 
 
 "I never saw anyone do it better, or quicker, or 
 easier. That is, I thought it was easy till she 
 brought me this paper. Just read about her work, 
 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 of food materials, care of 
 fires, cooking, table service, and cleaning of dishes, 
 utensils, towels, stove, etc., per meal — ^breakfast 
 two hours, dinner three hours, supper or lunch one 
 hour — six hours per day for food service. Daily 
 chamber work and dusting, etc., one and one-half 
 hours per day. Weekly cleaning for house of nine 
 rooms, with halls, stairs, closets, porches, steps, 
 walks, etc., sweeping, dusting, washing windows, 
 mopping, scouring, etc., averaging two hours per 
 day. Door service, waiting on tradesmen, and ex- 
 tras one-half hour per day. Total ten 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 week I was here alone 
 I never did half she does. Of course I had baby. 
 But then I didn't do the things. I guess when it 
 doesn't take so long they just don't do what ought 
 to be done. For she is quick, awfully quick about 
 her work. And she's thorough. I suppose it ought 
 
88 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 to be done that way — ^but I never had one before." 
 
 "She keeps mighty fresh and bright-looking after 
 these Herculean labors." 
 
 "Yes, but then she rests! Her ten hours are 
 from six-thirty a. m., when she pops into the kit- 
 chen as regularly as a cuckoo clock, to eight-thirty 
 p. m., when she is all through and her kitchen looks 
 like a — 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 two in the afternoon. Any- 
 way she is out, two hours every afternoon, riding in 
 the electric cars !" 
 
 "That don't look like a very hard job. Her day 
 laborer doesn't get two hours off every afternoon 
 to take excursions into the country !" 
 
 "No, I know that, but he doesn't begin so early, 
 nor stop so late. She does her square ten hours' 
 work, and I suppose she has a right to time off." 
 
 "You seem dubious about that, my dear." 
 
 "Yes, that's just where it's awkward. I'm used 
 to girls being in all the time, excepting their day 
 out. You see I can't leave baby, nor always take 
 him — and it interferes with my freedom after- 
 noons." 
 
 "Well — can't you arrange with her somehow?" 
 
 "See if you can. She says she will only g^ve ten 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 89 
 
 hours of time for a dollar and a half a day — 'tisn't 
 but fifteen cents an hour — I have to pay a woman 
 twenty that comes in. And if she is to give up her 
 chance of sunlight and fresh air she wants me to 
 pay her extra — ^by the hour. Or she says, if I 
 prefer, she would take four hours every other day 
 — and so be at home half of 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 knows all about marketing and 
 things, and plans the meals so as to have things 
 lap, and it's a comfort to have her in the house and 
 feel so safe and sure everything will be done right." 
 
 "Well, it's your province, my dear. I don't pro- 
 fess to advise. But I assure you I appreciate the 
 table, and the cleanness of everything, and the 
 rested look in your eyes, dear girl !" 
 
 She slipped her hand into his affectionately. "It 
 does make a diflference," she said. "I could get a 
 girl for $20.00 and save nearly $3.00 a week !— but 
 you know what they are !" 
 
 "I do indeed," he admitted fervently. "It's 
 worth the money to have this thing done so well. 
 I think she's right about the wages. Better keep 
 her." 
 
 "Oh, 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 good to last !" 
 
90 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 They looked over the offered contract again. It 
 closed with : 
 
 "This agreement to hold for six months from 
 date if mutually satisfactory. In case of disagree- 
 ment two weeks' notice is to be given on either side, 
 or two weeks' wages if preferred by the employer." 
 It was dated, and signed "Miss D. C. Bell." 
 
 And with inward amusement and great display 
 of penmanship they added "Mrs. Isabel J. Pome," 
 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 new acquisition un- 
 til its value was proven. Her husband also 
 bided his time; and when congratulated on his im- 
 proved appearance and the air of contentment, 
 merely vouchsafed that his wife had a new girl who 
 could cook. 
 
 To himself he boasted that he had a new wife 
 who could love — so cheerful and gay grew Mrs. 
 Porne in the changed atmosphere of her home. 
 
 "It is remarkable, Edgar," she said, dilating re- 
 peatedly on the peculiar quality of their good for- 
 tune. "It's not only good cooking, and good wait- 
 ing, and a clean house — cleaner than I ever saw one 
 
92 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 before ; and it's not only the quietness, and regular- 
 ity and economy — ^why the bills have gone down, 
 more than a third!" 
 
 "Yes — even I noticed that," he agreed. 
 
 "But what I enjoy the most is the atmosphere," 
 she continued. "When I have to do the work, the 
 house is a perfect nightmare to me!" She leaned 
 forward from her low stool, her elbows on her 
 knees, her chin in her hands, and regarded him in- 
 tently. 
 
 "Edgar ! You know I love you. And I love my 
 baby — I'm no unfeeling monster! But I can tell 
 you frankly that if I'd had any idea of what house- 
 work 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 hard for you, little girl. I never 
 meant that you should give up architecture — that's 
 a business a woman could carry on at home I 
 thought, the designing part anyway. There's your 
 'drawing-room' and all your things " 
 
 "Yes," she said, with reminiscent bitterness, 
 "there they are — ^and there they 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 could give her any real reason 
 why the cook should be called by her first name 
 more than the seamstress or governess. I tried to 
 say that it was shorter, but she smiled and said 
 
THE CYNOSURE 93 
 
 that in this case it was longer! — Her name 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 Jopalez where she 
 came from. I'm afraid she's engaged." Mrs. 
 Porne sighed ruefully. 
 
 "I don't doubt it!" said Mr. Porne. "That 
 would account for her six months' arrangement! 
 Well, my dear — make hay while the sun shines!" 
 
 "I do!" she boasted. "Whole stacks! I've had 
 a seamstress in, and got all my clothes in order and 
 the baby's. We've had a lot of dinner-parties and 
 teas as you know — all my 'social obligations' are 
 cleared off! We've had your mother for a visit, 
 and mine's coming now — and I wasn't afraid to 
 have either of them ! There's no fault to be found 
 with my housekeeping now! And there are two 
 things better than that — ^yes, three." 
 
 "The best thing is to see you look so young and 
 handsome and happy again," said her husband, 
 with a kiss. 
 
 "Yes — that's one. Another is that now I feel 
 so easy and lighthearted I can love you and baby — 
 as — as I do ! — Only when I'm tired and discouraged 
 I can't put my hand on it somehow." 
 
 He nodded sympathetically. "I know, dear," he 
 said, "I feel that myself — sometimes. What's 
 the other?" 
 
 "Why that's best of all !" she cried triumphantly. 
 
94 WHAT D I ANTRA DID 
 
 "I can Work again! When baby's asleep I get 
 hours at a time; and even when he's awake I've 
 fixed a place where he can play — and I can draw 
 and plan — just as I used to — better than I used to !" 
 
 "And that is even more to you than — ^the lov- 
 ing?" he asked in a quiet inquiring voice. 
 
 "It's more because it means bothV She leaned 
 to him, glowing, "Don't you see? First I had the 
 work and loved it. Then you came — ^and I loved 
 you — ^better! Then baby came and I loved him — 
 best? I don't know — ^you and baby are all one 
 somehow." 
 
 There was a brief interim and then she drew 
 back, blushing richly. "Now stop — I want to ex- 
 plain. When the housework got to be such a night- 
 mare — 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! And then — ^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 — Oh now I've got It 
 and You too, darling. And the baby! — Oh I'm 
 so happy!" 
 
 "Thanks to the Providential Miss Bell," said he. 
 "If she'll stay, I'll pay her anything!" 
 
 The months went by. 
 
 Peace, order, comfort, cleanliness and economy 
 reigned in the Porne household, and the lady of 
 the house blossomed into richer beauty and happi- 
 
THE CYNOSURE 95 
 
 ness; her contentment marred only by a sense of 
 flying time. 
 
 Miss Bell fulfilled her carefully specified engage- 
 ment to the letter; rested her peaceful hour in the 
 morning; walked and rode in the afternoon; 
 familiarized herself with the length and breadth of 
 the town ; and visited continuously among the serv- 
 ants of the neighborhood, establishing a large and 
 friendly acquaintance. If she wore rubber gloves 
 about rough work, she paid for them herself; and 
 she washed and ironed her simple and pretty cos- 
 tumes herself — with the result that they stayed 
 pretty for surprising periods. 
 
 She wrote letters long and loving, to Ross daily; 
 to her mother twice a week; and by the help of 
 her sister's authority succeeded in maintaining a 
 fairly competent servant in her deserted place. 
 
 "Father was bound he wouldn't," her sister 
 wrote her ; "but I stood right up to him, I can now 
 I'm married! — and Gerald too — that he'd no right 
 to take it out of mother even if he was mad with 
 you. He made a fuss about your paying for the 
 girl — ^but that was only showing off — he couldn't 
 pay for her just now — that's certain. And she 
 does very well — & good strong girl, and quite de- 
 voted to mother." And then she scolded furiously 
 about her sister's "working out." 
 
 Diantha knew just how hard it was for her 
 mother. She had faced all sides of the question 
 before deciding. 
 
 "Your mother misses you badly, of course," 
 
96 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 Ross wrote her. "I go in as often as I can and 
 cheer her up a bit. It's not just the work — ^she 
 misses you. By the way — so do I." He expressed 
 his views on her new employment. 
 
 Diantha used to cry over her letters quite often. 
 But she would put them away, dry her eyes, and 
 work on at the plans she was maturing, with 
 grim courage. "It's hard on them now," she would 
 say to herself. "It's hard on me — some. But we'll 
 all be better off because of it — and not only us — ^but 
 everybody !" 
 
 Meanwhile the happy and unhappy households 
 of the fair town buzzed in comment and grew 
 green with envy. 
 
 In social circles and church circles and club 
 circles, as also in domestic circles, it was noised 
 abroad that Mrs. Edgar Pome had "solved the 
 servant question." News of this marvel of effici- 
 ency and propriety was discussed in every house- 
 hold, and not only so but in barber-shops and other 
 downtown meeting places mentioned. Servants 
 gathered it at dinner-tables; and Diantha, much 
 amused, re-gathered it from her new friends among 
 the servants. 
 
 "Does she keep on just the same?" ^sked litde 
 Mrs. Ree of Mrs. Pome, in an awed whisper. 
 
 "Just the same if not better. I don't even order 
 the meals now, unless I want something especial. 
 She keeps a calendar of what we've had to eat, and 
 what belongs to the time of year, prices and things. 
 
THE CYNOSURE 97 
 
 When I used to ask her to suggest (one does, you 
 know; it is so hard to think up a variety), she'd 
 always be ready with an idea, or remind me that 
 we had had 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 the table 
 without knowing what's going to be there." 
 
 "But I should think that would interfere with 
 your sense of freedom," said Mrs. Ellen A. Dank- 
 shire. "A woman should be mistress of her own 
 household." 
 
 "Why I am! I order whenever I specially want 
 anything. But she really does it more — ^more sci- 
 entifically. She has made a study of it. And the 
 bills are very much lower." 
 
 "Well, I think you are the luckiest woman 
 alive !" sighed Mrs. Ree. "I wish 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 evening 
 when the strange Miss Bell was visiting "the help," 
 made flattering propositions to her to come to them. 
 She was perfectly polite and agreeable in manner, 
 but refused all blandishments. 
 
 "What are you getting at your present place — if 
 I may aslJ?" loftily inquired the great Mrs. 
 Thaddler, ponderous and beaded. 
 
 "There is surely no objection to your asking, 
 madam," she replied politely. "Mrs. Porne will 
 not mind telling you, I am sure." 
 
 "Hm!" said the patronizing visitor, regarding 
 
98 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 her through her lorgnette. "Very good. What- 
 ever 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 the oiFer just the same." 
 
 "Peculiarly offensive young person!" said Mrs. 
 Thaddler to her husband. "Looks to me like one 
 of these literary impostors. Mrs. Porne will prob- 
 ably appear in the magazines before long." 
 
 Mr. Thaddler instantly conceived a liking for 
 the young person, "sight unseen." 
 
 Diantha acquired quite a list of offers; places 
 open to her as soon as she was free ; at prices from 
 her present seven dollars up to the proposed 
 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 girls 
 don't try it long enough to get a start at something 
 else. With even two or three hundred ahead — and 
 an outfit — it would be easier to make good in a 
 store or any other way. Well — I have other fish 
 to fry !" 
 
 So she pursued her way; and, with Mrs. Pome's 
 permission — ^held a sort of girl's club in her spot- 
 less kitchen one evening a week during the last 
 three months of her engagement. It was a "Study 
 and Amusement Club." She gave them short and 
 interesting lessons in arithmetic, in simple dress- 
 making, in easy and thorough methods of house- 
 
THE CYNOSURE 99 
 
 work. She gave them lists of books, referred them 
 to articles in magazines, insidiously taught 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 most 
 natural affair, calculated to "elevate labor" and to 
 make home happy. 
 
 Diantha studied and observed. They brought 
 her their poor confidences, painfully similar. Al- 
 ways poverty — or they would not be there. Always 
 ignorance, or they would not stay there. Then 
 either incompetence in the work, or inability to 
 hold their little earnings — or both; and further the 
 Tale of the Other Side — the exactions and restric- 
 tions of the untrained mistresses they served; 
 cases of withheld wages; cases of endless require- 
 ments; cases of most arbitrary interference with 
 their receiving friends and "followers," or going 
 out; and cases, common enough to be horrible, of 
 insult they could only escape by leaving. 
 
 "It's no wages, of course — and no recommenda- 
 tion, when you leave like that — ^but what else can 
 a girl do, if she's honest?" 
 
 So Diantha learned, made friends and laid broad 
 foundations. 
 
 The excellence of her cooking was known to 
 many, thanks to the weekly "entertainments." No 
 one refused. No one regretted acceptance. Never 
 had Mrs. Pome enjoyed such a sense of social 
 importance. 
 
100 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 All the people she ever knew called on her 
 afresh, and people she never knew called on her 
 even more freshly. Not that she was directly re- 
 sponsible for it. She had not triumphed cruelly 
 over her less happy friends; nor had she cried 
 aloud on the street corners concerning her good 
 fortune. It was not her fault, nor, in truth any- 
 one's. But in a community where the "servant 
 question" is even more vexed than in the country 
 at large, where the local product is quite unequal 
 to the demand, and where distance makes importa- 
 tion an expensive matter, the fact 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 Or- 
 chardina Home and Culture Club, took up the 
 matter seriously. 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Porne," said she, settling herself 
 vigorously into a comfortable chair, "I just want 
 to talk the matter over with you, with a view to 
 the club. We do not know how long this will 
 last " 
 
 "Don't speak of it !" said Mrs. Pome. " — and it 
 behooves us to study the facts while we have them." 
 
 "So much is involved!" said little Mrs. Ree, the 
 Corresponding Secretary, lifting her pale earnest 
 face with the perplexed fine lines in it. "We are 
 all so truly convinced of the sacredness of the home 
 duties !" 
 
 "Well, what do you want me to do?" asked the 
 hostess. 
 
THE CYNOSURE 101 
 
 "We must have that remarkable young woman 
 address our club !" Mrs. Dankshire announced. "It 
 is one case in a thousand, and must be studied !" 
 
 "So noble of her !" said Mrs. Ree. "You say she 
 was really a school-teacher? Mrs. Thaddler has 
 put it about that she is one of these dreadful writ- 
 ing persons — in disguise!" 
 
 "Oh, no," said Mrs. Porne. "She is perfectly 
 straightforward about it, and had the best of rec- 
 ommendations. She was a teacher, but it didn't 
 agree with her health, I believe." 
 
 "Perhaps there is a story to it!" Mrs. Ree ad- 
 vanced; but Mrs. Dankshire disagreed with her 
 flatly. 
 
 "The young woman has a theory, I believe, and 
 she is working it out. I respect her for it. Now 
 what we want to ask you, Mrs. Porne, is this: do 
 you 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 not 
 wish to interfere, but it is a remarkable opportun-. 
 ity — very. You know the fine work Miss Lucy 
 Salmon has done on this subject; and Miss Frances 
 Kellor. You know how little data we have, and 
 how great, how serious, a question it is daily be- 
 coming! Now, here is a young woman of brains 
 and culture who has apparently grappled with the 
 question; her example and influence must not be 
 lost! We must hear from her. The public must 
 know of this." 
 
 "Such an ennobling example!" murmured Mrs. 
 
102 WHAT DI ANTRA DID 
 
 Ree. "It might lead numbers of other school- 
 teachers to see the higher side of the home duties 1" 
 
 "Furthermore," pursued Mrs. Dankshire, "this 
 has occurred to me. Would it not be well to have 
 our ladies bring with them to the meeting the more 
 intelligent of their servants; that they might hear 
 and see the — the dignity of household labor — so 
 ably set forth?" 
 
 "Isn't it — wouldn't that be a — an almost danger- 
 ous experiment?" urged Mrs. Ree; her high nar- 
 row forehead fairly creped with little wrinkles: 
 "She might — say something, you know, that they 
 might — take advantage of!" 
 
 "Nonsense, my dear!" replied Mrs. Dankshire. 
 She was very fond of Mrs. Ree, but had small 
 respect for her judgment. "What could she say? 
 
 t.ook at what she does! And how beautifully — 
 ow perfectly — she does it ! I would wager now — 
 tnay 1 try an experiment, Mrs. Porne?" and she 
 stood up, taking out her handkerchief. 
 
 "Certainly," said Mrs. Porne, "with pleasure! 
 You won't find any!" 
 
 Mrs. Dankshire climbed heavily upon a carefully 
 selected chair, and passed her large clean plain- 
 hemmed handkerchief across the top of a picture. 
 
 "I knew it!" she proclaimed proudly from her 
 eminence, and showed the cloth still white. "That," 
 she continued in ponderous descent, "that is 
 Knowledge, Ability and Conscience!" 
 
 "I don't see how she gets the time!" breathed 
 Mrs. Ree, shaking her head in awed amazement, 
 
THE CYNOSURE 103 
 
 and reflecting that she would not dare trust Mrs. 
 Dankshire's handkerchief on her picture tops. 
 
 "We must have her address the Club," the presi- 
 dent repeated. "It will do worlds of good. Let 
 me see — a paper on — we might say 'On the True 
 Nature of Domestic Industry.' How does that 
 strike you, Mrs. Ree?" 
 
 "Admirable!" said Mrs. Ree. "So strong! so 
 succinct." 
 
 "That certainly covers the subject," said Mrs. 
 Pome. "Why don't you ask her ?" 
 
 "We will. We have come for that purpose. But 
 we felt it right to ask you about it first," said Mrs. 
 Dankshire. 
 
 "Why, I have no control over Miss Bell's move- 
 ments, outside of working hours," answered Mrs. 
 Porne. "And I don't see that it would make any 
 difference to our relations. She is a very selff 
 poised young woman, but extremely easy to get 
 along with. And I'm sure she could write a splen- 
 did paper. You'd better ask her, I think." 
 
 "Would you call her in?" asked Mrs. Dankshire, 
 "or shall we go out to the kitchen ?" 
 
 "Come right out ; I'd like you to see how beauti- 
 fully she keeps everything." 
 
 The kitchen was as clean as the parlor; and as 
 prettily arranged. Miss Bell was making her prepa- 
 ration for lunch, and stopped to receive the visitors 
 with a serenely civil air — ^as of a country store- 
 keeper. 
 
 "I am very glad to meet you, Miss Bell ; very glad 
 
104 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 indeed," said Mrs. Dankshire, shaking hands with 
 her warmly. "We have all heard so much of your 
 beautiful work here, and we admire your attitude! 
 Now would you be willing to give a paper — or a 
 talk — to our club, the Home and Culture Club, 
 some Wednesday, on The True Nature of Domes- 
 tic Industry?" 
 
 Mrs. Ree took Miss Bell's hand with something 
 of the air of a Boston maiden 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. Pome inquiringly. 
 
 "I should be delighted to have you do it," said 
 her employer. "I know it would 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 should happen to prevent I will 
 let you know in good season, and if you should 
 wish to postpone or alter the program — should 
 think better of the idea — just send me word. I 
 shall not mind in the least." 
 
 They went away quite jubilant, Miss Bell's ac- 
 ceptance was announced officially at the next club- 
 meeting, and the Home and Culture Club felt that 
 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 their former house- 
 maid lecture. As many other men as were 
 able did the same. All the members not bedridden 
 were present, and nearly all the guests they had 
 invited. 
 
 So many were the acceptances that a downtown 
 hall had been taken ; the floor was more than filled, 
 and in the gallery sat a block of servant girls, more 
 gorgeous in array than the ladies below, whispering 
 excitedly among themselves. The platform re- 
 called a "tournament of roses," and, sternly im- 
 
106 WHAT D I ANTE A DID 
 
 portant among all that fragrant loveliness, sat Mrs. 
 Dankshire in "the chair" flanked by Miss Torbus, 
 the Recording Secretary, Miss Massing, the Treas- 
 urer, and Mrs. Ree, tremulous with importance in 
 her official position. All these ladies wore an air 
 of high emprise, even more intense than that with 
 which they usually essayed their public duties. 
 They were richly dressed, except Miss Torbus, 
 who came as near it as she could. 
 
 At the side, and somewhat in the rear of the 
 President, on a chair quite different from "the 
 chair," discreetly gowned and of a bafBingly serene 
 demeanor, sat Miss Bell. All eyes were upon 
 her — even some opera glasses. 
 
 "She's a good-looker anyhow," was one mascu- 
 line opinion. 
 
 "She's a peach," was another. "I tell you — ^the 
 chap that gets her is well heeled !" said a third. 
 
 The ladies bent their hats toward one another and 
 conferred in flowing whispers; and in the gallery 
 eager confidences were exchanged, with giggles. 
 
 On the small table before Mrs. Dankshire, 
 shaded by a mag^nificent bunch of roses, lay that 
 core and crux of all parliamentary dignity, the 
 gavel; an instrument no self-respecting chair- 
 woman may be without; yet which she still ap- 
 proaches with respectful uncertainty. 
 
 In spite of its large size and high social stand- 
 ing, the Orchardina Home and Culture Club con- 
 tained some elements of unrest, and when the 
 yearly election of officers came round there was 
 
HERESY AND SCHISM 107 
 
 always need for careful work in practical politics 
 to keep the reins of government in the hands of 
 "the right people." 
 
 Mrs. Thaddler, conscious of the New York 
 millions, and Madam Weatherstone, conscious of 
 her Philadelphia lineage, with Mrs. Johnston A. 
 Marrow ("one of the Boston Marrows!" was 
 awesomely whispered of her), were the heads of 
 what might be called "the conservative party" in 
 this small parliament; while Miss Miranda L. 
 Eagerson, describing herself as "a journalist," who 
 held her place in local society largely by virtue of 
 the tacit dread of what she might do if offended — 
 led the more radical element. 
 
 Most of the members were quite content to fol- 
 low the lead of the solidly established ladies of 
 Orchard Avenue; especially as this leadership con- 
 sisted mainly in the pursuance of a masterly inac- 
 tivity. When wealth and aristocracy combine with 
 that common inerta which we dignify as "conserva- 
 tism" they exert a powerful influence in the great 
 art of sitting still. 
 
 Nevertheless there were many alert and con- 
 scientious women in this large membership, and 
 when Miss Eagerson held the floor, and urged upon 
 the club 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 interest and approval. Here was a 
 subject appealing to every woman present, and 
 
108 V/HAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 every man but such few as merely "boarded ;" even 
 they had memories and hopes concerning this 
 question. 
 
 Solemnly rose Mrs. Dankshire, her full silks 
 rustling about her, and let one clear tap of the gavel 
 fall into the sea of soft whispering and guttural 
 murmurs. 
 
 In the silence that followed she uttered the 
 momentous announcements; "The meeting will 
 please come to order," "We will now hear the read- 
 ing of the minutes of the last meeting," and so on 
 most conscientiously through officer's reports and 
 committee's reports to "new business." 
 
 Perhaps it is their more frequent practice of 
 religious rites, perhaps their devout acceptance of 
 social rulings and the dictates of fashion, perhaps 
 the lifelong reiterance of small duties at home, or 
 all these things together, which makes women so 
 seriously letter-perfect in parliamentary usage. But 
 these stately ceremonies were ended in course of 
 time, and Mrs. Dankshire rose again, even 
 more solemn than before, and came forward 
 majestically. 
 
 "Members — and guests," she said impressively, 
 "this is an occasion which brings pride to the heart 
 of every member of the Home and Culture Club. 
 As our name implies, this Club is formed to serve 
 the interests of The Home — those interests which 
 stand first, I trust, in every human heart." 
 
 A telling pause, and the light patter of gloved 
 hands. 
 
HERESY AND SCHISM 109 
 
 "Its second purpose," pursued the speaker, with 
 that measured delivery which showed that her 
 custom, as one member put it, was to "first write 
 and then commit," "is to promote the cause of Cul- 
 ture in this community. Our aim is Culture in the 
 broadest sense, not only in the curricula of institu- 
 tions of learning, not only in those spreading 
 branches of study and research which tempts us on 
 from height to height" — ("proof of arboreal 
 ancestry that," Miss Eagerson confided to a friend, 
 whose choked giggle attracted condemning eyes) 
 — "but in the more intimate fields of daily 
 experience." 
 
 "Most of us, however widely interested in the 
 higher education, are still — and find in this our 
 highest honor — wives and mothers." These novel 
 titles called forth another round of applause. 
 
 "As such," continued Mrs. Dankshire, "we all 
 recognize the difficult — the wellnigh insuperable 
 problems of the" — she glanced at the gallery, now 
 paying awed attention — "domestic question." 
 
 "We know how on the one hand our homes 
 yawn unattended" — ("I yawn while I'm attend- 
 ing — eh?" one gentleman in the rear suggested to 
 his neighbor) — "while on the other the ranks of 
 mercenary labor are overcrowded. Why is it that 
 while the peace and beauty, the security and com- 
 fort, of a good home, with easy labor and high 
 pay, are open to every young woman, whose cir- 
 cumstances oblige her to toil for her living, she 
 blindly refuses these true advantages and loses her 
 
110 WHAT DI ANTRA DID 
 
 health and too often what is far more precious! — 
 in the din and tumult of the factory, or the 
 dangerous exposure of the public counter." 
 
 Madam Weatherstone was much impressed at 
 this point, and beat her black fan upon her black 
 glove emphatically. Mrs. Thaddler also nodded; 
 which meant a good deal from her. The applause 
 was most gratifying to the speaker, who continued : 
 
 "Fortunately for the world there are some 
 women yet who appreciate the true 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 of merciless children 
 can easily face a woman's club. 
 
 "We have with us on this occasion one, 
 as we may say, our equal in birth and breed- 
 ing," — Madam Weatherstone here looked pain- 
 fully shocked as also did the Boston Marrow; 
 possibly Mrs. Dankshire, whose parents were 
 Iowa farmers, was not unmindful of this, but she 
 went on smoothly, "and whose first employment 
 was the honored task of the teacher; who has de- 
 liberately cast her lot with the domestic worker, and 
 brought her trained intelligence to bear upon the 
 solution of this great question — The True Nature 
 of Domestic Service. In the interests of this prob- 
 lem she has consented to address us — I take pleas- 
 ure in introducing Miss Diantha Bell." 
 
 Diantha rose calmly, stepped forward, bowed 
 to the President and officers, and to the audience. 
 She stood quietly for a moment, regarding the 
 
HERESY AND SCHISM 111 
 
 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 certain kinds of labor, but a stage 
 of labor; that all labor was originally domestic; 
 but that most kinds had now become social, as with 
 weaving and spinning, for instance, for centuries 
 confined to the home and done by women only; 
 now done in mills by men and women; that this 
 process of socialization has now taken from the 
 home almost all the manufactures — as of wine, 
 beer, soap, candles, pickles and other specialties, 
 and part of the laundry work; that the other pro- 
 cesses of cleaning are also being socialized, as by 
 the vacuum cleaners, the professional window- 
 washers, rug cleaners, and similar professional 
 workers; and that even in the preparation of food 
 many kinds are now specialized, as by the baker 
 and confectioner. That in service itself we were 
 now able to hire by the hour or day skilled work- 
 ers necessarily above the level of the "general." 
 
 A growing rustle of disapproval began to make 
 itself felt, which increased as she w^nt on to ex- 
 plain how the position of the housemaid is a sur- 
 vival of the ancient status of woman slavery, the 
 family with the male head and the group of servile 
 women. 
 
 "The keynote of all our difficulty in this rela- 
 tion is that we demand celibacy of our domestic 
 servants," said Diantha. 
 
112 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 A murmur arose at this statement, but she con- 
 tinued calmly: 
 
 "Since it is natural for women to marry, the re- 
 sult is that our domestic servants consist of a con- 
 stantly changing series of young girls, apprentices, 
 as it were; and, the complicated and important 
 duties of the household 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 from be- 
 ing highly paid and easy labor, house service was 
 exacting and responsible, involving a high degree 
 of skill as well as moral character, and that it was 
 paid less than ordinary unskilled labor, part of 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, the position of a 
 strange young girl in our homes, was of itself a 
 source of much of the difficulty of the situation. 
 
 "We speak of giving them the safety and shelter 
 of the home" — here Diantha grew solemn ; "so far 
 from sharing our homes, she gives up her own, 
 and has none of ours, but the poorest of our food 
 and a cramped lodging ; she has neither the freedom 
 nor the privileges of a home ; and as to shelter and 
 safety — the domestic worker, owing to her pecu- 
 liarly defenceless position, furnishes a terrible per- 
 centage of the unfortunate." 
 
 A shocked silence met this statement. 
 
HERESY AND SCHISM 113 
 
 "In England shop-woiirers complain of the cus- 
 tom of 'sleeping in' — their employers furnishing 
 them with lodging as part payment; this also is a 
 survival of the old apprentice method. With us, 
 only the domestic 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. 'Domestic economy' is a favorite phrase. 
 As a matter of fact our method of domestic service 
 is inordinately wasteful. Even where the wife 
 does all the housework, without pay, we still waste 
 labor to an enormous extent, requiring one whole 
 woman to wait upon each man. If the man hires 
 one or more servants, the wastes increase. If one 
 hundred men undertake some common business, 
 they do not divide in two halves, each man having 
 another man to serve him — fifty, productive labor- 
 ers, and fifty cooks. Two or three cooks could 
 provide for the whole group ; to use fifty is to waste 
 45 per cent of the labor. 
 
 "But our waste of labor is as nothing to our 
 waste of money. For, say twenty 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 our cooks — $200 a 
 week to pay for the cooking for twenty families, 
 for about a hundred persons! 
 
 "Three expert cooks, one at $30 a week and two 
 
114 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 at $15 would save to those twenty families $150 a 
 week and give them better food. The cost of kit- 
 chen furnishings and fuel, could be reduced by 
 nine-tenths; and beyond all that comes our incred- 
 ible waste in individual purchasing. What twenty 
 families spend on individual patronage of small re- 
 tailers, could be reduced by more than half if 
 bought by competent persons in wholesale quanti- 
 ties. Moreover, our whole food supply would rise 
 in quality 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 to say that it led Straight to 
 perdition. 
 
 "The solution for which so many are looking is 
 no new scheme of any sort; and in particular it is 
 not that oft repeated fore-doomed failure called 
 'co-operative housekeeping.' " 
 
 At this a wave of relief spread perceptibly. The 
 irritation roused by those preposterous figfures and 
 accusations was somewhat allayed. Hope was relit 
 in darkened countenances. 
 
 "The inefficiency of a dozen tottering households 
 is not removed by combining them," said Diantha. 
 This was of dubious import. "Why should we ex- 
 pect a group of families to 'keep house' expertly 
 and economically together, when they are driven 
 into companionship by the patent fact that none of 
 them can do it alone?" 
 
HERESY AND SCHISM 115 
 
 Again an uncertain reception. 
 
 "Every family is a distinct unit," the girl con- 
 tinued. "Its needs are separate and should be met 
 separately. The separate house and garden should 
 belong to each family, the freedom and group 
 privacy of the home. But the separate home may 
 be served by a common water company, by a com- 
 mon milkman, by a common baker, by a common 
 cooking and a common cleaning establishment. We 
 are rapidly approaching an improved system of liv- 
 ing in which the private home will no more want a 
 cookshop on the premises than a blacksmith's shop 
 or soap-factory. The necessary work of the kit- 
 chenless house will be done by the hour, with 
 skilled labor; and we shall order our food cooked 
 instead of raw. This will give to the employees 
 a respectable well-paid profession, with their own 
 homes and families; and to the employers a saving 
 of about two-thirds of the expense of living, as 
 well as an end of all our difficulties with the serv- 
 ant question. That is the way to elevate — to en- 
 noble domestic service. It must cease to be domes- 
 tic service — and become world service." 
 
 Suddenly and quietly she sat down. 
 
 Miss Eagerson was on her feet. So were others. 
 
 "Madam President! Madam President!" re- 
 sounded from several points at once. Madam 
 Weatherstone — Mrs. Thaddler — no I yes — they 
 really were both on their feet. Applause was 
 going on — irregularly — soon dropped. Only from 
 
116 WHAT DI ANTRA DID 
 
 the group in the gallery it was whole-hearted and 
 consistent. 
 
 Mrs. Dankshire, who had been growing red and 
 redder as the paper advanced, who had conferred 
 in alarmed whispers with Mrs. Ree, and Miss 
 Massing, who had even been seen to extend her 
 hand to the gavel and finger it threateningly, now 
 rose, somewhat precipitately, and came forward. 
 
 "Order please! You will please keep order. 
 You have heard the — ^we will now — the meeting 
 is now open for discussion, Mrs. Thaddler!" And 
 she sat down. She meant to have said Madam 
 Weatherstone, but Mrs. Thaddler was more ag- 
 gressive. 
 
 "I wish to say," said that much beaded lady in a 
 loud voice, "that I was against this — unfortunate 
 experiment — from the first. And I trust it will 
 never be repeated !" She sat down. 
 
 Two tight little dimples flickered for an instant 
 about the corners of Diantha's mouth. 
 
 "Madam Weatherstone?" said the President, 
 placatingly. 
 
 Madam Weatherstone arose, rather sulkily, and 
 looked about her. An agitated assembly met her 
 eye, buzzing universally each to each. 
 
 "Order!" said Mrs. Dankshire. "ORDER, 
 please !" and rapped three times with the gavel. 
 
 "I have attended many meetings, in many clubs, 
 in many states," said Madam Weatherstone, "and 
 have heard much that was foolish, and some things 
 that were dangerous. But I will say that never in 
 
HERESY AND SCHISM 117 
 
 the course of all my experience have I heard any- 
 thing so foolish, and so dangerous, as this. I trust 
 that the — doubtless well meant — attempt to throw 
 light on this subject — from the wrong quarter — 
 has been a lesson to us all. No club could survive 
 more than one such lamentable mistake !" , And she 
 sat down, gathering her large satin wrap about her 
 like a retiring Caesar. 
 
 "Madam President!" broke forth Miss Eager- 
 son. "I was up first — ^and have been standing ever 
 since " 
 
 "One moment. Miss Eagerson," said Mrs. Dank- 
 shire superbly, "The Rev. Dr. Eltwood." 
 
 If Mrs. Dankshire supposed she was still further 
 supporting the cause of condemnation she made a 
 painful mistake. The cloth and the fine bearing 
 of the young clergyman deceived her; and she 
 forgot that he was said to be "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 whom platforms belonged by right. 
 
 "Ladies," he began in tones of cordial good 
 will, "both employer and employed! — and gentle- 
 men — ^whom I am delighted to see here to-day! I 
 am grateful for the opportunity so graciously ex- 
 tended to me" — he bowed six feet of black broad- 
 cloth toward Mrs. Dankshire — "by your honored 
 President. 
 
 "And I am grateful for the opportunity previ- 
 ously enjoyed, of listening to the most rational. 
 
118 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 practical, wise, true and hopeful words I have ever 
 heard on this subject. I trust there will be enough 
 open-minded women — and men — in Orchardina to 
 make possible among us that higher business de- 
 velopment of a great art which has been so con- 
 vincingly laid before us. This club is deserving of 
 all thanks from the community for extending to so 
 many the privilege of listening to our valued fel- 
 low-citizen — Miss Bell." 
 
 He bowed again — to Miss Bell — and to Mrs. 
 Dankshire, and resumed his seat. Miss Eagerson 
 taking advantage of the dazed pauce to occupy the 
 platform herself. 
 
 "Mr. Eltwood is right!" she said. "Miss Bell 
 is right! This is the true presentation of the sub- 
 ject, 'by one who knows.' Miss Bell has pricked 
 our pretty bubble so thoroughly that we don't 
 know where we're standing — ^but she knows! 
 Housework is a business — like any other business — 
 I've always said so, and it's got to be done in a 
 business way. Now I for one " but Miss Eag- 
 erson was rapped down by the Presidential gavel; 
 as Mrs. Thaddler, portentous and severe, stalked 
 forward. 
 
 "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 mischievous nonsense as we have heard 
 to-day. I move you, Madam President, that a reso- 
 
HERESY AND SCHISM 119 
 
 lution of condemnation be passed at once; and the 
 meeting then dismissed!" 
 
 She stalked back again, while Mrs. Marrow of 
 Boston, in clear, cold tones seconded the motion. 
 
 But another voice was heard — for the first time 
 in that assembly — Mrs. Weathcrstone, the pretty, 
 delicate widow daughter-in-law of Madam Weath- 
 crstone, was on her feet with "Madam President! 
 I wish to speak to this motion." 
 
 "Won't you come to the platform, Mrs. Weath- 
 crstone?" asked Mrs. Dankshire graciously, and 
 the little lady came, visibly trembling, but holding 
 her head high. 
 
 All sat silent, all expected — what was not forth- 
 coming. 
 
 "I wish to protest, as a member of the Club, and 
 as a woman, against the gross discourtesy which 
 has been offered to the guest and speaker of the 
 day. In answer to our invitation Miss Bell has 
 given us a scholarly and interesting 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 their feet. Mrs. Dankshire 
 tapped frantically with the little gavel, but Miss 
 Eagerson, by sheer vocal power, took and held the 
 floor. 
 
 "I move that we take a vote on this question," 
 she cried in piercing tones. "Let every woman who 
 
120 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 knows enough to appreciate Miss Bell's paper — 
 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 and sense 
 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 her voice, "that every 
 member who is guilty of such grossly unparlia- 
 mentary conduct be hereby dropped from the club !" 
 
 "We hereby resign!" cried Miss Eagerson. "We 
 drop you! We'll have a New Woman's Club in 
 Orchardina with some warmth in its heart and 
 some brains 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 meet- 
 ing broke up; the club elements dissolving and re- 
 forming 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 not present, when 
 they heard of it. 
 
 Some ladies were so shocked and grieved as to 
 withdraw from club-life altogether. Others, in 
 stern dignity, upheld the shaken standards of Home 
 and Culture; while the most conspicuous outcome 
 of it all was the immediate formation of the New 
 Woman's Club of Orchardina. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 She beats upon her bolted door, 
 
 With faint weak hands; 
 Drearily walks the narrow floor; 
 Sullenly sits, blank walls before; 
 
 Despairing stands. 
 
 Life calls her, Duty, Pleasure, Gain — 
 
 Her dreams respond; 
 But the blank daylights wax and wane. 
 Dull peace, sharp agony, slow pain — 
 
 No hope beyond. 
 
 Till comes a thought! She lifts her head. 
 
 The world grows wide! 
 A voice — as if clear words were said — 
 "Your door, so long imprisoned. 
 
 Is locked inside!" 
 
 BEHIND the straight purple backs and 
 smooth purple legs on the box before them, 
 Madam Weatherstone and Mrs. Weather- 
 stone rolled home silently, a silence of thunderous 
 portent. Another purple person opened the door 
 for them, and when Madam Weatherstone said, 
 "We will have tea on the terrace," it was brought 
 them by a fourth. 
 
 "I was astonished at your attitude, Viva," began 
 the old lady, at length. "Of course it was Mrs. 
 Dankshire's fault in the first place, but to en- 
 courage that, — outrageous person! How could 
 you do it I" 
 
122 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 Young Mrs. Weatherstone emptied her ex- 
 quisite cup and set it down. 
 
 "A sudden access of courage, I suppose," she 
 said. "I was astonished at myself." 
 
 "I wholly disagree with you!" replied her 
 mother-in-law. "Never in my life have I heard 
 such nonsense. Talk like that would be danger- 
 ous, if it were not absurd! It would destroy the 
 home ! It would strike at the roots 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 uninterrupted worship 
 of household gods. 
 
 "It doesn't seem so to me," she said slowly, "I 
 was much interested and impressed. She is 
 evidently a young woman of knowledge and experi- 
 ence, 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 am sure. Hadn't you better go 
 and lie down now? I'll have some dinner sent to 
 you." 
 
 "Thank you," said Viva, rising and walking to 
 the edge of the broad terrace. "You are very kind. 
 No. I do not wish to lie down. I haven't felt so 
 thoroughly awaka in" — she drew a pink cluster of 
 oleander againstAer cheek and thought a moment 
 — "in several years." There was a new look about 
 her, certainly. 
 
 "Nervous excitement," her mother-in-law replied. 
 
LOCKED INSIDE 123 
 
 "You're not like yourself at all to-night. You'll 
 certainly be ill to-morrow !" 
 
 Viva turned at this and again astonished the old 
 lady by serenely kissing her. "Not at all !" she said 
 gaily. "I'm going to be well to-morrow. You 
 will see! 
 
 She went to her room, drew a chair to the wide 
 west window with the far off view and sat herself 
 down to think. Diantha's assured poise, her clear 
 reasoning, her courage, her common sense; and 
 something of tenderness and consecration she dis- 
 cerned also, had touched deep chords in this 
 woman's nature. It was like the sound of far doors 
 opening, windows thrown up, the jingle of bridles 
 and clatter of hoofs, keen bugle notes. A sense of 
 hope, of power, of new enthusiasm, rose in her. 
 
 Orchardina Society, eagerly observing "young 
 Mrs. Weatherstone" from her first appearance, had 
 always classified her as "delicate." Beside the firm 
 features and high' color of the matron-in-office, this 
 pale quiet slender woman looked like a meek and 
 transient visitor. But her white forehead was 
 broad under its soft-hanging eaves of hair, and her 
 chin, though lacking in prognathous prominence or 
 bull-dog breadth, had a' certain depth which gave 
 hope to the physiognomist. 
 
 She was strangely roused and stirred by the 
 afternoon's events. "I'm like that man in 'Phan- 
 tastes'," she thought contemptously, "who stayed 
 so long in that dungeon because it didn't occur to 
 him to open the door! Why don't I ?" she 
 
124 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 rose and walked slowly up and down, her hands 
 behind her. "I will!" she said at last. 
 
 Then she dressed for dinner, revolving in her 
 mind certain suspicions long suppressed, but now 
 flaming out in clear conviction in the light of 
 Diantha's words. "Sleeping in, indeed!" she mur- 
 mured to herself. "And nobody doing anything!" 
 
 She looked herself in the eye in the long mirror. 
 Her gown was an impressive one, her hair coiled 
 high, a gold band ringed it like a crown. A clear 
 red lit her cheeks. 
 
 She rang. Little Ilda, the newest maid, ap- 
 peared, gazing at her in shy admiration. Mrs. 
 Weatherstone looked at her with new eyes. "Have 
 you been here long?" she asked. "What is your 
 name ?" 
 
 "No, ma'am," said the child — she was scarce 
 more. "Only a week and two days. My name is 
 Ilda." 
 
 "Who engaged you?" 
 
 "Mrs. Halsey, ma'am." 
 
 "Ah," said Mrs. Weatherstone, musing to her- 
 self, "and I engaged Mrs. Halsey!" "Do you like 
 it here?" she continued kindly. 
 
 "Oh yes, ma'am!" said Ilda. "That is " 
 
 she stopped, blushed, and continued 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 new place, and mistress. 
 
LOCKED INSIDE 135 
 
 As she was about to pass the door of Mr. 
 Matthew Weatherstone, that young gentleman 
 stepped out and intercepted her. "Whither away 
 so fast, my dear?" he amiably inquired. 
 
 "Please let me pass, sir! I'm on an errand. 
 Please, sir?" 
 
 "You must give me a kiss first!" said he — and 
 since there seemed no escape and she was in haste, 
 she submitted. He took six — and she ran away 
 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, hastily buttoning her gown; 
 and she presently appeared, somewhat heated, be- 
 fore Mrs. Weatherstone. 
 
 That lady was sitting, cool and gracious, her 
 long ivory paper-cutter between 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 the maids. Is it your 
 things, ma'am?" 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Weatherstone. "It is yours I 
 refer to. I wish you to pack your things and leave 
 the house — ^in an hour. One of the maids can help 
 
126 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 you, if necessary. Anything you cannot take can 
 be sent after you. Here is a check for the follow- 
 ing month's wages." 
 
 Mrs. Halsey was nearly a head taller than her 
 employer, a stout showy woman, 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 en- 
 gaged you, Mrs. Halsey, you will 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 some months past!" 
 
 "By whom, Ma'am?" 
 
 "By yourself, Mrs. Halsey — I think you under- 
 stand me. Oscar will take your things as soon as 
 they are ready." 
 
 Mrs. Halsey met her steady eye a moment — saw 
 more than she cared to face — and left the room. 
 
 She took care, however, to carry some letters to 
 Madam Weatherstone, and meekly announced 
 her discharge; also, by some coincidence, she met 
 Mr. Matthew in the hall upstairs, and weepingly 
 confided her grievance to him, meeting immediate 
 consolation, both sentimental and practical. 
 
 When hurried servants were sent to find their 
 young mistress they reported that she must have 
 gone out, and in truth she had; out on her own 
 roof, where she sat quite still, though shivering a 
 
LOCKED INSIDE 137 
 
 little now and then from the new excitement, until 
 dinner time. 
 
 This meal, in the mind of Madam Weatherstone, 
 was the crowning factor of daily life ; and, on state 
 occasions, of social life. In her cosmogony the 
 central sun was a round mahogany table; all other 
 details of housekeeping revolved about it in vary- 
 ing orbits. To serve an endless series 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 the meal was announced; 
 and when her daughter-in-law, serene and royally 
 attired, took her place as usual, no emotion was 
 allowed to appear before 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 at this time in the evening — 
 don't you think so?" 
 
 Young Matthew was gloomy and irritable 
 throughout the length and breadth of the meal; 
 and when they were left with their coffee in the 
 drawing-room, he broke out, "What's this I hear 
 about Mrs. Halsey being fired without notice?" 
 
 "That is what I wish to know. Viva," said the 
 grandmother. "The poor woman is greatly dis- 
 tressed. Is there not some mistake ?" 
 
 "It's a damn shame," said Matthew. 
 
128 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 The younger lady glanced from one to the other, 
 and wondered to see how little she minded it. 
 "The door was there all the time !" she thought to 
 herself, as she looked her stepson in the eye and 
 said, "Hardly drawing-room language, Matthew. 
 Your grandmother is present !" 
 
 He stared at her in dumb amazement, so she 
 went on, "No, there is no mistake at all. I dis- 
 charged Mrs. Halsey about an hour before dinner. 
 The terms of the engagement were a month's 
 warning or a month's wages. I gave her the 
 wages." 
 
 "But! but!" Madam Weatherstone was genu- 
 inely confused by this sudden inexplicable, yet per- 
 fectly polite piece of what she still felt to be in 
 the nature of "interference" and "presumption." "I 
 have had no fault to find with her." 
 
 "I have, you see," said her daughter-in-law 
 smiling. "I found her unsatisfactory 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. Madam Weatherstone didn't wish 
 to hear it — ^had a headache — must go to her room 
 — went to her room forthwith. There was a ten- 
 sion in the atmosphere that 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 
 
LOCKED INSIDE 129 
 
 great empty room. She even laughed a little. "It's 
 open!" said she, and ordered the car. While wait- 
 ing for it she chatted with Mrs. Pome awhile 
 over the all-convenient telephone. 
 
 Diantha sat at her window, watching the big soft, 
 brilliant moon behind the eucalyptus trees. After 
 the close of the strenuous meeting, she had with- 
 drawn from the crowd of excited women anxious 
 to shake her hand and engage her on the spot, had 
 asked time to consider a number of good oppor- 
 tunities offered, and had survived the cold and 
 angry glances of the now smaller but far more 
 united Home and Culture Club. She declined to 
 talk to the reporters, and took refuge in an open 
 car. This proved very unsatisfactory, owing to 
 her sudden prominence. Two persistent newspaper 
 men swung themselves upon the car also and in- 
 sisted on 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, and spent themselves on her personal 
 appearance, being favorably impressed thereby. 
 
 But Miss Bell got off at the next corner and 
 took a short cut to the house where she had rented 
 
130 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 a room. Reporters were waiting there, two being 
 women. 
 
 Diantha politely but firmly declined to see them 
 and started for the stairs ; but they merely stood in 
 front of her and asked questions. The girl's blood 
 surged to her cheeks ; she smiled grimly, kept abso- 
 lute silence, brushed through them and went swiftly 
 to her room, locking the door after her. 
 
 The reporters described her appearance — ^un- 
 favorably this time ; and they described the house — 
 also unfavorably. They said that "A group of 
 adoring-eyed young men stood about the doorway 
 as the flushed heroine of the afternoon made her 
 brusque entrance." These adorers consisted of 
 the landlady's Johnny, aged thirteen, and two 
 satellites of his, still younger. They did look at 
 Diantha admiringly; and she was a little hurried 
 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 to Ross 
 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 the reporters, because she 
 was too angry to be just, she told herself. She 
 wrote and wrote, becoming peaceful as the quiet 
 moments passed, and a sense grew upon her of the 
 strong, lasting love that was waiting so patiently. 
 
 "Dearest," her swift pen flew along, "I really 
 feel much encouraged. An impression has been 
 made. One or two men spoke to me afterward ; the 
 
LOCKED INSIDE 131 
 
 young minister, who said such nice things ; and one 
 older man, who looked prosperous and reliable, 
 'When you begin any such business as you have 
 outlined, you may count on me, Miss Bell,' he said, 
 and gave me his card. He's a lawyer — P. L. Wis- 
 comb; nice man, I should think. Another big, 
 sheepish-looking man said, 'And me, Miss Bell.' 
 His name is Thaddler; his wife is very disagreeable. 
 Some of the women are favorably impressed, but 
 the old-fashioned kind — my! 'If hate killed men, 
 Brother Lawrence!' — ^but it don't." 
 
 She wrote herself into a good humor, and dwelt 
 at considerable length on the pleasant episode of the 
 minister and young Mrs. Weatherstone's remarks. 
 "I like her," she wrote. "She's a nice woman — 
 even if she is rich." 
 
 Ther 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 landlady stretched 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," she said. 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. 
 
132 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 Mrs. Weatherstone held Diantha's hand warmly, 
 and looked into her eyes. "I was a schoolmate of 
 Isabel Pome," she told the girl. "We are dear 
 friends still; and so I feel that I know you better 
 than you think. You have done beautiful work 
 for Mrs. Pome; now I want you to do 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 — right away. You have 
 done me so much good — already. I was just a 
 New England bred school teacher myself at first, 
 so we're even that far. Then you took a step up — 
 and I took a step down." 
 
 Diantha was a little slow in understanding the 
 quick fervor of this new friend; a trifle suspicious, 
 even; being a cautious soul, and somewhat over- 
 strung, perhaps. Her visitor, bright-eyed and eager, 
 went on. "I gave up school teaching and married 
 a fortune. You have given it up to do a more 
 needed work. I think you are wonderful. Now, I 
 know this seems queer to you, but I want to tell 
 you about it. I feel sure you'll understand. At 
 home, Madam Weatherstone has had everything 
 in charge for years and years, and I've been too 
 lazy, or too weak, or too indifferent, to do any- 
 thing. I didn't care, somehow. All the machinery 
 of living, and no living — no good of it all! Yet 
 there didn't seem to be anything else to do. Now 
 you have waked me all up — ^your paper this after- 
 noon — what Mr. Eltwood said — the way those poor, 
 
LOCKED INSIDE 133 
 
 dull, blind women took it. And yet I was 
 just as dull and blind myself. Well, I begin 
 to see things now. I can't tell you all at 
 once what a difference it has made; but I have a 
 very definite proposition to make to you. Will you 
 come and be my housekeeper, now — right away — 
 at a hundred dollars a month ?" 
 
 Diantha opened her eyes wide and looked at the 
 eager lady as if she suspected her nervous balance. 
 
 "The other one got a thousand dollars a year — 
 you are worth more. Now, don't decline, please. 
 Let me tell you about it. I can see that you have 
 plans ahead, for this business; but it can't hurt 
 you much to put them off six months, say. Mean- 
 time, you could be practicing. Our place at Santa 
 Ulrica is almost as big as this one ; there are lots of 
 servants and a great, weary maze of accounts to be 
 kept, and it wouldn't be bad practice for you — ^now, 
 would it?" 
 
 Diantha's troubled eyes lit up. "No — ^you are 
 right there," she said. "If I could do it !" 
 
 "You'll have to do just that sort of thing when 
 you are running your business, won't you?" her 
 visitor went on. "And the summer's not a good 
 time to start a thing like that, is it?" 
 
 Diantha meditated. "No, I wasn't going to. I 
 was going to start somewhere — take a cottage, a 
 dozen girls or so — and furnish labor by the day to 
 the other cottages." 
 
 "Well, you might be able to run that on the side," 
 
134 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 said Mrs. Weatherstone. "And you could train 
 my girls, get in new ones if you like; it doesn't 
 seem to me it would conflict. But to speak to you 
 quite frankly. Miss Bell, I want you in the house 
 for my own sake. You do me good." 
 
 They discussed the matter for some time, Diantha 
 objecting mainly to the suddenness of it all. "I'm 
 a slow thinker," she said, "and this is so — ^so attrac- 
 tive that I'm suspicious of it. I had the other thing 
 all planned — ^the girls practically engaged." 
 
 "Where were you thinking of going?" asked Mrs. 
 Weatherstone. 
 
 "To Santa Ulrica." 
 
 "Exactly! Well, you shall have your cottage 
 and your girls, and give them part 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 to me 
 as soon as you like; but you I want at once. 1 
 wish you'd come home with me to-night! Why 
 don't you?" 
 
 Diantha's scanty baggage was all in sight. She 
 looked around for an excuse. Mrs. Weatherstone 
 stood up laughing. 
 
LOCKED INSIDE 135 
 
 "Put the new address in the letter," she said, 
 mischievously, "and come along!" 
 
 And the purple chauffeur, his disapproving back 
 ineffectual in the darkness, 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 keepvThe 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 Weather- 
 stone's wrath ; and risen to find it unabated. 
 With condensed disapprobation written on 
 every well-cut feature, she came to the coldly gleam- 
 ing breakfast table. 
 
 That Mrs. Halsey was undoubtedly gone, she had 
 to admit; yet so far failed to find the exact words 
 of reproof for a woman of independent means dis- 
 charging her own housekeeper when it pleased her. 
 Young Matthew unexpectedly appeared at break- 
 fast, perhaps in anticipation of a sort of Roman 
 
SLEEPING IN 137 
 
 holiday in which his usually late and apologetic 
 stepmother would furnish the amusement. They 
 were both surprised to find her 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 the lovely morning — the 
 flowers, the garden and the gardeners; her efforts 
 ill seconded, however. 
 
 "Shall I attend to the orders this morning?" 
 asked Madam Weatherstone with an air of noble 
 patience. 
 
 "Oh, no, thank you !" replied Viva. "I have en- 
 gaged a new housekeeper." 
 
 "A new housekeeper! When?" The old lady 
 was shaken by this inconceivable promptness. 
 
 "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 Matthew smiled. This was amusing, 
 though not what he had expected. "How extremely 
 alert and businesslike!" he said lazily. "It's be- 
 coming to you — to get up early I" 
 
 "You can't have got much of a person — at a 
 minute's notice," said his grandmother. "Or per- 
 haps 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." 
 
138 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 "What's her name?" inquired Matthew. 
 
 "Bell — Miss Diantha Bell," she answered, look- 
 ing as calm as if announcing the day of the week, 
 but inwardly dreading the result somewhat. Like 
 most of such terrors it was overestimated. 
 
 There was a little pause — rather an intense little 
 pause; and then — "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 a 
 good-looker." 
 
 Madam Weatherstone rose from the table in 
 some agitation. "I must say I am very sorry, Viva, 
 that you should have been so — ^precipitate! This 
 young woman cannot be competent to manage a 
 house like this — to say nothing of her scandalous 
 ideas. Mrs. Halsey was — to my mind — ^perfectly 
 satisfactory. I shall miss her very much." She 
 swept out with an unanswerable 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 the well-built, well-dressed, 
 well-mannered but far from well-behaved young 
 man. 
 
 "I don't know," she said to herself, "but I do 
 feel — think — imagine — a good deal. I'm sure I 
 hope not! Anyway — it's new life to have that girl 
 in the house." 
 
 That girl had undertaken what she described to 
 Ross as "a large order — a very large order." 
 
SLEEPING IN 139 
 
 "It's the hardest thing I ever undertook," she 
 wrote him, "but I think I can do it ; and it will be 
 a tremendous help. Mrs. Weatherstone's a brick — 
 a perfect brick ! She seems to have been very un- 
 happy — for ever so long — and to have submitted 
 to her domineering old mother-in-law just because 
 she didn't care enough to resist. Now she's got 
 waked up all of a sudden — she says it was my 
 paper at the club — more likely my awful example, 
 I think ! and she fired her old housekeeper — I don't 
 know what for — and rushed me in. 
 
 "So here I am. The salary is good, the work is 
 excellent training, and I guess I can hold the place. 
 But the old lady is a terror, and the young man — 
 how you would despise that Johnny !" 
 
 The home letters she now received were rather 
 amusing. Ross, sternly patient, saw little difference 
 in her position. "I hope you will enjoy your new 
 work," he wrote, "but personally I should prefer 
 that you did not — so you might give it up and come 
 home sooner. I miss you as you can well imagine. 
 Even when you were here life was hard enough — 
 but now ! 
 
 "I had a half offer for the store the other day, 
 but it fell through. If I could sell that incubus 
 and put the money into a ranch — fruit, hens, any- 
 thing — ^then we could all live on it; more cheaply, 
 I think; and I could find time for some research 
 work I have in mind. You remember that guinea- 
 pig experiment I want so to try ?" 
 
 Diantha remembered and smiled sadly. She was 
 
140 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 not much interested in guinea-pigs and their 
 potential capacities, but she was interested in her 
 lover and his happiness. "Ranch," she said 
 thoughtfully ; "that's not a bad idea." 
 
 Her mother wrote the same patient loving letters, 
 perfunctorily hopeful. Her father wrote none — 
 "A woman's business — this letter-writin'," he always 
 held; and George, after one scornful upbraiding, 
 had "washed his hands of her" with some sense of 
 relief. He didn't like to write letters either. 
 
 But Susie kept up a lively correspondence. She 
 was attached to her sister, as to all her immediate 
 relatives and surroundings; and while she utterly 
 disapproved of Diantha's undertaking, a sense of 
 sisterly duty, to say nothing of affection, prompted 
 her to many letters. It did not, however, always 
 make these agreeable reading. 
 
 "Mother's pretty well, and the girl she's got now 
 does nicely — that first one turned out to be a failure. 
 Father's as cranky as ever. We are all well here 
 and the baby (this was a brand new baby Diantha 
 had not seen) 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 
 from the Wardens, of course. Mrs. Warden's got 
 neuralgia or something; keep them all busy. They 
 are much excited over this new place of yours — 
 you ought to hear them go on! It appears that 
 Madam Weatherstone is a connection of theirs — 
 one of the F. F. V.'s, I guess, and they think she's 
 something wonderful. And to have you working 
 
SLEEPING IN 141 
 
 there! — ^well, you can just see how they'd feel; and 
 I don't blame them. It's no use arguing with you — 
 but I should think you'd have enough of this dis- 
 graceful foolishness by this time and come home !" 
 
 Diantha tried to be very philosophic over her 
 home letters; but they were far from stimulating. 
 "It's no use arguing with poor Susie !" she decided. 
 "Susie thinks the sun rises and sets between kitchen, 
 nursery and parlor! 
 
 "Mother can't see the good of it yet, but she will 
 later — Mother's all right. 
 
 "I'm awfully sorry the Wardens feel so — and 
 make Ross unhappy — ^but of course I knew they 
 would. It can't be helped. It's just a question of 
 time and work." 
 
 And she went to work. 
 
 Mrs. Porne called on her friend most promptly, 
 with a natural eagerness and curiosity. 
 
 "How does it work? Do you like her as much 
 as you thought? Do tell me about it. Viva. You 
 look like another woman already !" 
 
 "I certainly feel like one," Viva answered. "I've 
 seen slaves in housework, and I've seen what we 
 fondly call 'Queens' in housework ; but I 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 does 
 pretty well— but not like 'Miss Bell' ! I wish there 
 were a hundred of her!" 
 
142 WHAT DI ANTRA DID 
 
 "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 all 
 want in our homes — and fuss because we can't 
 have them." 
 
 "Edgar says he quite agrees with her views," 
 Mrs. Pome went on. "Skilled labor by the day — 
 food sent in — . He says if she cooked it he wouldn't 
 care if it came all the way from Alaska ! She cer- 
 tainly can cook ! 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 in- 
 terruption — her coming here, but I think it will be 
 a help, she's not had experience in large manage- 
 ment before, but she takes hold splendidly. She's 
 found a dozen 'leaks' in our household already." 
 
 "Mrs. Thaddler's simply furious, I hear," said 
 the visitor. "Mrs. Ree was in this morning and 
 told me all about it. Poor Mrs. Ree ! The home is 
 church and state to her ; that paper of Miss Bell's 
 she regards as simple blasphemy." 
 
 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 did you ever dare ?" 
 
 "Why I got my courage from the girl herself. 
 She was — superb ! Talk of blasphemy ! Why I've 
 committed lese majeste and regicide and the Un- 
 pardonable Sin since that meeting!" And she told 
 her friend of her brief passage at arms with Mrs. 
 
SLEEPING IN 148 
 
 Halsey. "I never liked the woman," she continued ; 
 "and some of the things Miss Bell said set me 
 thinking. I don't believe we half know what's 
 going on in our houses." 
 
 "Well, Mrs. Thaddler's so outraged by 'this 
 scandalous attack upon the sanctities of the home' 
 that she's going about saying all sorts of things 
 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 Weather- 
 stone presently appeared to greet these visitors. 
 
 "I think you are trying a dangerous experiment !" 
 said Mrs. Thaddler to her young hostess. "A very 
 dangerous experiment ! Bringing that young icono- 
 clast into your home !" 
 
 Mr. Thaddler, stout and sulky, sat as far away 
 as he could and talked to Mrs. Porne. "I'd like 
 to try that same experiment myself," said he to 
 her. "You tried it some time, I understand?" 
 
 "Indeed we did — and would still if we had the 
 chance;" sjje replied. "We think her a very ex- 
 ceptional young woman." 
 
 Mr. Thaddler chuckled. "She is that !" he agreed. 
 "Gad! How she did set things humming! 
 They're humming yet — at our house !" 
 
 He glanced rather rancorously at his wife, and 
 Mrs. Porne wished, as she often had before, that 
 Mr. Thaddler wore more clothing over his domestic 
 afflictions. 
 
 "Scandalous!" Mrs. Thaddler was saying to 
 
144 WHAT DI ANTRA DID 
 
 Madam Weatherstone. "Simply scandalous! 
 Never in my life did I hear such absurd — such out- 
 rageous — charges against the sanctities of the 
 home!" 
 
 "There you have it!" said Mr. Thaddler, under 
 his breath. "Sanctity of the 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; but found it hard to agree 
 even so, no love being lost between them; and the 
 latter gave evidence of more satisfaction than 
 distress at this "dangerous experiment" in the house 
 of her friends. Viva sat silent, but with a look of 
 watchful intelligence that delighted Mrs. Pome. 
 
 "It has done her good already," she said to her- 
 self. "Bless that girl!" 
 
 Mr. Thaddler went home disappointed in the real 
 object of his call — he had hoped to see the Danger- 
 ous Experiment again. But his wife was well 
 pler.sed. 
 
 "They will rue it!" she announced. "Madam 
 Weatherstone is ashamed of her daughter-in-law — 
 I can see that! She looks cool enough. I don't 
 know what'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 !" 
 
SLEEPING IN 145 
 
 Mr. Thaddler chuckled softly. "I'll mark 'em !" 
 he said. 
 
 Diantha had her hands full. Needless to say her 
 sudden entrance was resented by the corps of serv- 
 ants accustomed to the old regime. She had the 
 keys; she explored, studied, inventoried, examined 
 the accounts, worked out careful tables and 
 estimates. "I wish mother was here!" she said to 
 herself. "She's a regular genius for accounts. I 
 can do it — but it's no joke." 
 
 She brought the results to her employer at the 
 end of the week. "This is tentative," she said, "and 
 I've allowed margins because I'm new to a business 
 of this size. But here's what this house ought to 
 cost you — at the outside, and here's what it does 
 cost you now." 
 
 Mrs. Weatherstone was impressed. "Aren't you 
 a little — spectacular?" she suggested. 
 
 Diantha went over it carefully; the number of 
 rooms, the number of servants, the hours of labor, 
 the amount of food and other supplies required. 
 
 "This is only preparatory, of course," she said. 
 I'll have to check it off each month. If I may do 
 the ordering and keep all the accounts I can show 
 you exactly in a month, or two at most." 
 
 "How about the servants ?" asked Mrs. Weather- 
 stone. 
 
 There was much to say here, questions of com- 
 petence, of impertinence, of personal excellence 
 with "incompatability of temper." Diantha was 
 
146 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 given a free hand, with full liberty to experiment, 
 and met the opportunity with her usual energy. 
 
 She soon discharged the unsatisfactory ones, and 
 substituted the girls she had selected for her sum- 
 mer's experiment, gradually adding others, till the 
 household was fairly harmonious, and far more 
 efficient and economical. A few changes were made 
 among the men also. 
 
 By the time the family moved down to Santa 
 Ulrica, there was quite a new spirit in the house- 
 hold. Mrs. Weatherstone fully approved of the 
 Girls' Club Diantha had started at Mrs. Pome's; 
 and it went on merrily in the larger quarters of the 
 great "cottage" on the cliff. 
 
 "I'm very glad I came to you, Mrs. Weather- 
 stone," said the girl. "You were quite right about 
 the experience ; I did need it — and I'm getting it !" 
 
 She was geting some of which she made no 
 mention. 
 
 As she won and held the confidence of her sub- 
 ordinates, and the growing list of club members, 
 she learned their personal stories ; what had befallen 
 them in other families, and what they liked and 
 disliked in their 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 respects herself; 
 but it's the young masters — and sometimes the old 
 ones !" 
 
 "It's all nonsense," protested Mrs. James, 
 widowed cook of long standing. "I've worked out 
 
SLEEPING IN 147 
 
 for twenty-five years, and I never met no such 
 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 their mis- 
 behavin' theirselves. She's a fine girl, but too 
 good-lookin'." 
 
 Diantha studied types, questioned them, drew 
 them out, adjusted facts to theories and theories to 
 facts. She found the weakness of the whole posi- 
 tion to lie in the utter ignorance and helplessness 
 of the individual servant. "If they were only 
 organized," she thought — "and knew their own 
 power ! — Well ; there's plenty of time." 
 
 As her acquaintance increased, and as Mrs. 
 Weatherstone's interest in her plans increased also, 
 she started the small summer experiment she had 
 planned, for furnishing labor by the day. Mrs. 
 James was an excellent cook, though most un- 
 pleasant to work with. She was quite able to see 
 that getting up frequent lunches at three dollars, 
 and dinners at five dollars, made a better income 
 than ten dollars a week; even with several days 
 unoccupied. 
 
 A group of younger women, under Diantha's 
 sympathetic encouragement, agreed to take a small 
 cottage together, with Mrs. James as a species of 
 chaperone; and to go out in twos and threes as 
 chambermaids and waitresses at 25 cents an hour. 
 
148 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 Two of them could set in perfect order 
 one of the small beach cottages in an hour's 
 time ; and the occupants, already crowded for room, 
 were quite willing to pay a little more in cash "not 
 to have a servant around." Most of them took 
 their meals out in any case. 
 
 It was a modest attempt, elastic and easily alter- 
 able and based on the special conditions of a shore 
 resort; Mrs. Weatherstone's known interest gave 
 it social backing; and many ladies who heartily 
 disapproved of Diantha's theories found themselves 
 quite willing to profit by this very practical local 
 solution of the "servant question." 
 
 The "club girls" became very popular. Across 
 the deep hot sand they ploughed, and clattered 
 along the warping boardwalks, in merry pairs and 
 groups, finding the work far more varied and amus- 
 ing than the endless repetition in one household. 
 They had pleasant evenings too, with plenty of 
 callers, albeit somewhat checked and chilled by 
 rigorous Mrs. James. 
 
 "It is both foolish and wicked!" said Madam 
 Weatherstone to her daughter-in-law, "exposing a 
 group of silly girls to such danger and temptations ! 
 I understand there is singing and laughing going on 
 at that house until half-past ten at night." 
 
 "Yes, there is," Viva admitted. "Mrs. James 
 insists that they shall all be in bed at eleven — ^which 
 is very wise. I'm glad they have good times — 
 there's safety in numbers, you know." 
 
 "There will be a scandal in this community be- 
 
SLEEPING IN 149 
 
 fore long!" said the old lady solemnly. "And it 
 grieves me to think that this household will be 
 responsible for it!" 
 
 Diantha heard all this from the linen room while 
 Madam Weatherstone buttonholed her daughter-in- 
 law in the hall ; and in truth the old lady meant that 
 she should hear what she said. 
 
 "She's right, I'm afraid!" said Diantha to her- 
 self — "there will be a scandal if I'm not mighty 
 careful and this household will be responsible for 
 it!" 
 
 Even as she spoke she caught Ilda's childish 
 giggle in the lower hall, and looking over the rail- 
 ing saw her airily dusting the big Chinese vases 
 and coquetting with young Mr. Matthew. 
 
 Later on, Diantha tried seriously to rouse her 
 conscience and her common sense. "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 own friends. He is not to be trusted. 
 One nice girl I had here simply left the place — he 
 annoyed her so." 
 
 Ilda was a little sulky. She had been quite a 
 queen in the small Norwegian village she was born 
 in. Young men were young men — and they might 
 even — ^perhaps! This severe young housekeeper 
 didn't know everything. Maybe she was jealous ! 
 
 So Ilda was rather unconvinced, though appar- 
 ently submissive, and Diantha kept a careful eye 
 upon her. She saw to it that Ilda's room had a 
 bolt as well as key in the door, and kept the room 
 
150 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 next to it empty; frequently using it herself, un- 
 known to anyone. "I hate to turn the child off," 
 she said to herself, conscientiously revolving the 
 matter. "She isn't doing a thing more than most 
 girls do — she's only a little fool. 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 troubled about something." 
 
 "I am," Diantha admitted. "I believe I'll have to 
 tell you about it — ^but I 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 gar- 
 den, 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 a rose; and while she sniffed and 
 dallied they saw Mr. Matthew saunter out and ioin 
 her. 
 
 The girl was not as severe with him as she ought 
 to have been — that was evident; but it was also 
 evident that she was frightened and furious when 
 he suddenly h/eld her fast and kissed her with much 
 satisfaction. As soon as her arms were free she 
 gave him a slap that sounded smartly even at that 
 distance ; and ran crying into the house. 
 
 "She's foolish, I admit," said Diantha, — "but she 
 doesn't realize her danger at all. I've tried to make 
 her. And now I'm more worried than ever. It 
 seems rather hard to discharge her — she needs care." 
 
SLEEPING IN 151 
 
 "I'll speak to that young man myself," said Mrs. 
 Weatherstone. "I'll speak to his grandmother too 1" 
 
 "Oh — would you?" urged Diantha. "She wouldn't 
 believe anything except that the girl 'led him on' — 
 you know that. But I have an idea that we could 
 convince her — if you're willing to do something 
 rather melodramatic — and I think we'd better do 
 it to-night!" 
 
 "What's that ?" asked her employer ; and Diantha 
 explained. It was melodramatic, but promised to 
 be extremely convincing. 
 
 "Do you think he'd dare ! under my roof ?" hotly 
 demanded Mrs. Weatherstone. 
 
 "I'm very much afraid it wouldn't be the first 
 time," Diantha reluctantly assured her. "It's no 
 use being horrified. But if we could only 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 
 — I think I can manage it — what makes you think 
 it's to-night?" 
 
 "I can't be absolutely certain — " Diantha ex- 
 plained ; and told her the reason 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 her experienced advice, Mrs. 
 Weatherstone brought the august lady to the room 
 next to Ilda's late that evening, the housekeeper in 
 attendance. 
 
152 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 "We mustn't wake the servants." she said in an 
 elaborate whisper. "They need sleep, poor things! 
 But I want to consult you about these communi- 
 cating doors and the locksmith is coming in the 
 morning, — ^you see this 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 can visit one another if they like — ^what 
 do you think?" 
 
 "I think you are absurd to bring me to the top 
 floor, at this time of night, for a thing like this!" 
 said the old lady. "They should be permanently 
 locked, to my mind ! There's no question about it." 
 
 Viva, still in low tones, discussed this point fur- 
 ther; introduced the subject of wall-paper or hard 
 finish ; pointed out from the window a tall eucal3rptus 
 which she thought needed heading; did what she 
 could to keep her 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 dimly heard. 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 she softly unlatched the 
 door. 
 
 A brilliant moon flooded the small chamber. 
 They could see little Ilda, huddled in the bed- 
 clothes, staring at her door from which the key 
 
SLEEPING IN 153 
 
 had fallen. 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 the screaming's about, that's 
 all. You open the door — if you don't want any- 
 body to know I'm here! I won't hurt you any — I 
 just want to talk to you a minute." 
 
 Madam Weatherstone was speechless with horror, 
 her daughter-in-law listening with set lips. Diantha 
 looked from one to the other, and at the frightened 
 child before them who was now close to the terrible 
 door. 
 
 "Oh please! — please! go away!" she cried in des- 
 peration. "Oh what shall I do ! What shall I do !" 
 
 "You can't do anything," he answered cheer- 
 fully. "And I'm coming in anyhow. You'd better 
 keep still about this for your own sake. Stand 
 from under !" Madam Weatherstone marched into 
 the room. Ilda, with a gasping little cry, fled out 
 of it to Diantha. 
 
 There was a jump, a scramble, two knuckly 
 hands appeared, a long leg was put through the 
 transom, two legs wildly wriggling, a descending 
 
154 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 body, and there stood before them, flushed, dis- 
 hevelled, his coat up to his ears — Mat Weather- 
 stone. 
 
 He did not notice the stern rigidity of the figure 
 which stood between him and the moonlight, but 
 clasped it warmly to his heart. "Now I've got you, 
 Ducky!" cried he, pressing all too affectionate 
 kisses upon the face of his grandmother. 
 
 Young Mrs. Weatherstone turned on the light. 
 
 It was an embarrassing position for the gentle- 
 man. 
 
 He had expected to find a helpless cowering girl; 
 afraid to cry out because her case would be lost if 
 she did; begging piteously that he would leave her; 
 wholly at his mercy. 
 
 What he did find was so inexplicable as to reduce 
 him to gibbering astonishment. There stood his 
 imposing grandmother, so overwhelmed with amaze- 
 ment that her trenchant sentences failed her com- 
 pletely ; his stepmother, wearing an expression that 
 almost suggested delight in his discomfiture; and 
 Diantha, as grim as Rhadamanthus. 
 
 Poor little Ilda burst into wild sobs and choking 
 explanations, clinging to Diantha's hand. "If I'd 
 only listened to you !" she said. "You told me he 
 was bad! I never thought he'd do such an awful 
 thing!" 
 
 Young Matthew fumbled at the door. He had 
 locked it outside in his efforts with the pass-key. 
 He was red, red to his ears — ^very red, but there was 
 
SLEEPING IN 155 
 
 no escape. He faced them — there was no good in 
 facing the door. 
 
 They all stood aside and let him pass — a word- 
 less gauntlet. 
 
 Diantha took the weeping Ilda to her room for 
 the night. Madame Weatherstone 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 quiet sarcasm^ 
 "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 busi- 
 ness; strove with it, toiled at it; concen- 
 trated his scientific mind on alien tasks of 
 financial calculation and practical psychology, but 
 he liked it no better. He had no interest in busi- 
 ness, no desire to make money, no skill in salesman- 
 ship. 
 
 But there were five mouths at home ; sweet affec- 
 tionate feminine mouths no doubt, but requiring 
 food. Also two in the kitchen, wider, and requiring 
 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 a four foot patch. 
 The amount and quality of the covering was an 
 unceasing surprise to Ross, and he did not do jus- 
 tice to the fact that his women-folk really saved 
 a good deal by doing their own sewing. 
 
UNION HOUSE 157 
 
 In his heart he longed always to be free of the 
 whole hated load of tradesmanship. Continually 
 his thoughts went back to the hope of selling out 
 the business and buying a ranch. 
 
 "I could make it keep us, anyhow," he would 
 plan to himself; "and I could get at that guinea 
 pig idea. Or maybe hens would do." He had a 
 theory of his own, or a personal test of his own, 
 rather, which he wished to apply to a well known 
 theory. It would take some years to work it out, 
 and a great many guinea pigs, and be of no pos- 
 sible value financially. "I'll do it sometime," he 
 always concluded; which was cold comfort. 
 
 His real grief at losing the companionship of the 
 girl he loved, was made more bitter by a total lack 
 of sympathy with her aims, even if she achieved 
 them — ^in which he had no confidence. He had no 
 power to change his course, and tried not to be 
 unpleasant about it, but he had to express his feel- 
 ings now and then. 
 
 "Are you coming back to me?" he wrote. "How 
 can you bear to give so much pain to everyone who 
 loves you? Is your wonderful salary worth more 
 to you than being here with your mother — with 
 me? How can you say you love 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 girl I 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 a year — I shall never 
 
158 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 touch your money — you know that. I cannot even 
 ofifer you a home, except with my family, and 
 I know how you feel about that; I do not blame 
 you. 
 
 "But I am as stubborn as you are, dear girl; 
 I will not live on my wife's money — ^you will not 
 live in my mother's house — and we are drifting 
 zp^Xi- It is not that I care less for you dear, or 
 »at all for anyone else, but this is slow death — 
 that's all." 
 
 Mrs. Warden wrote now and then and ex- 
 patiated on the sufferings of her son, and his fail- 
 ing strength under the unnatural strain, till Diantha 
 grew to dread her letters more than any pain she 
 knew. Fortunately they came seldom. 
 
 Her own family was much impressed by the 
 thousand dollars, and found the occupation of 
 housekeeper a long way more tolerable than that 
 of house-maid, a distinction which made Diantha 
 smile rather bitterly. Even her father wrote to 
 her once, suggesting that if she chose to invest 
 her 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; but she wrote as pleasant a 
 letter as she could, declining his proposition. 
 
 Her mother seemed strons^er, and became more 
 sympathetic as the months passed. Large affairs 
 always appealed to her more than small ones, and 
 she offered valuable suggestions as to the account 
 
UNION HOUSE 159 
 
 keeping of the big house. They all assumed that 
 she was permanently settled in this well paid posi- 
 tion, and she made no confidences. But all summer 
 long she planned and read and studied out her 
 progressive schemes, and strengthened her hold 
 among the working women. 
 
 Laundress after laundress she studied person- 
 ally and tested professionally, finding a general 
 level of mediocrity, till finally she hit upon a 
 melancholy Dane — a big rawboned red-faced 
 woman — whose husband had been a miner, but was 
 hurt about the head so that he was no longer able 
 to earn his living. The huge fellow was docile, 
 quiet, and endlessly strong, but needed constant 
 supervision. 
 
 "He'll do anything you tell him. Miss, and do 
 it well; but then he'll sit and dream about it — I 
 can't leave him at all. But he'll take the clothes 
 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 two rooms 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 — ^be porter you know. I can't 
 offer him very much, but it will help some." 
 
 Mrs. Thorald accepted for both, and considered 
 Diantha as a special providence. 
 
 There was to be a cook, and two capable second 
 maids. The work of the house must be done thor- 
 
160 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 oughly well, Diantha determined; "and the food's 
 got to be good — or the girls won't stay." After 
 much consideration she selected one Julianna, a 
 "person of color," for her kitchen: not the jovial 
 and sloppy personage usually figuring in this char- 
 acter, but a tall, angular, and somewhat cynical 
 woman, a misanthrope in fact, with a small son. 
 For men she had no respect whatever, but con- 
 ceded a grudging admiration to Mr. Thorald as 
 "the usefullest biddablest male person" she had ever 
 seen. She also extended special sympathy to Mrs. 
 Thorald on account of her peculiar burden, and 
 the Swedish woman had no antipathy to her color, 
 and seemed to take a melancholy pleasure in Juli- 
 anna's caustic speeches. 
 
 Diantha offered her the place, boy and all. "He 
 can be 'bell boy' and help you in the kitchen, too. 
 Can't you. Hector?" Hector rolled large adoring 
 eyes at her, but said nothing. His mother accepted 
 the proposition, 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 be 
 got 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 I married," she replied. "Dere was 
 several of 'em, all havin' different names, and to 
 tell you de truf Mis' Bell, I got clean mixed amongst 
 'em. But Julianna's my name — world without end 
 amen." 
 
UNION HOUSE 161 
 
 So Diantha had to waive her theories about the 
 surnames of servants in this case. 
 
 "Did they all die?" she asked with polite sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 "No'm, they didn't none of 'em die — ^worse luck." 
 
 "I'm afraid you have seen much trouble, Juli- 
 anna," she continued, sympathetically; "they de- 
 serted you, I suppose?" 
 
 Julianna laid her long spoon upon the table and 
 stood up with great gravity. "No'm," she said 
 again, "dey didn't none of 'em desert me on no 
 occasion. I divorced 'em." 
 
 Marital difficulties in bulk were beyond Diantha's 
 comprehension, and she dropped the subject. 
 
 Union House opened in the autumn. The van- 
 ished pepper trees were dim with dust in Orchardina 
 streets as the long rainless summer drew to a close ; 
 but the social atmosphere fairly sparkled with new 
 interest. Those who had not been away chattered 
 eagerly with those who had, and both with the 
 incoming tide of winter visitors. 
 
 "That girl of Mrs. Porne's has started her house- 
 keeping shop!" 
 
 "That 'Miss Bell' has got Mrs. Weatherstone 
 fairly infatuated with her crazy schemes." 
 
 "Do you know that Bell girl has actually taken 
 Union House ? Going to make a Girl's Club of it !" 
 
 "Did you ever hear of such a thing! Diantha 
 Bell's really going to try to run her absurd under- 
 taking right here in Orchardina!" 
 
 They did not know that the young captain of 
 
162 WHAT D I ANTRA DID 
 
 industry had deliberately chosen Orchardina as her 
 starting point on account of the special conditions. 
 The even climate was favorable to "going out by 
 the day," or the delivery of meals, the number 
 of wealthy residents gave opportunity for catering 
 on a large scale; the crowding tourists and health- 
 seekers made a market for all manner of transient 
 service and cooked food, and the constant lack of 
 sufficient or capable servants forced the people into 
 an unwilling consideration of any plan of domestic 
 assistance. 
 
 In a year's deliberate effort Diantha had ac- 
 quainted herself with the rank and file of the town's 
 housemaids and day workers, and picked her as- 
 sistants carefully. She had studied the local con- 
 ditions 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 too valuable for a house lot and 
 not yet saleable as a business block, was the working 
 base. 
 
 A half year with Mrs. Weatherstone gave her 
 $500 in cash, besides the $100 she had saved at 
 Mrs. Pome's; and Mrs. Weatherstone's cheerfully 
 offered 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 you will 
 continue to be my friend. As a friend I claim the 
 
UNION HOUSE 163 
 
 privilege of being disagreeable. If you have a fault 
 it is conceit. Immovable, Colossal Conceit! And 
 Obstinacy !" 
 
 "Is that all?" asked Diantha. 
 
 "It's all I've found — so far," gaily retorted Mrs. 
 Weatherstone. "Don't you see, child, that you can't 
 afford to wait? You have reasons for hastening, 
 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 those qualities I have men- 
 tioned ! But what's the use ? You'll need credit for 
 groceries and furniture. I am profoundly inter- 
 ested in this business. I am more than willing to 
 advance a little capital, or to ensure your credit. 
 A man would have sense enough to take me up at 
 once." 
 
 "I believe you are right," Diantha reluctantly 
 agreed. "And you shan't lose by it !" 
 
 Her friends were acutely interested in her 
 progress, and showed it in practical ways. The 
 New Woman's Club furnished five families of pa- 
 trons for the regular service of cooked food, which 
 soon grew, with satisfaction, to a dozen or so, 
 varying from time to time. The many families with 
 invalids, and lonely invalids without families, were 
 glad to avail themselves of the special delicacies 
 furnished at Union House. Picnickers found it 
 easier to buy Diantha's marvelous sandwiches than 
 to spend golden morning hours in putting up infer- 
 ior ones at home; and many who cooked for them- 
 selves, or kept servants, were glad to profit by this 
 
164 WHAT DJANTHA DID 
 
 outside source on Sunday evenings and "days out." 
 
 There was opposition too; both the natural re- 
 sistance of inertia and prejudice, 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 to feed, 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 in Diantha Bell I'd back her against 
 Rockefeller!" 
 
 Mrs. Weatherstone was not alarmed at all. "If 
 she should fail — which I don't for a moment 
 expect — it won't ruin me," she told Isabel. "And 
 if she succeeds, which I firmly believe she will, 
 why, I'd be willing to risk almost anything to prove 
 Mrs. Thaddler in the wrong." 
 
 Mrs. Thaddler used what power she had to cry 
 down the undertaking, and was so actively malevo- 
 lent that her husband was moved to covert oppo- 
 sition. He never argued with his wife — she was 
 easily ahead of him in that art, and, if it came to 
 recriminations, had certain controvertible charges 
 to make against him, which made him angrily silent. 
 He was convinced in a dim way that her ruthless 
 domineering spirit, and the sheer malice she often 
 showed, were more evil things than his own bad 
 habits ; and that even in their domestic relation her 
 behavior really caused him more pain and discom- 
 fort than he caused her; but he could not convince 
 her of it, naturally. 
 
UNION HOUSE 165 
 
 "That Diantha Bell is a fine girl," he said to 
 himself. "A damn fine girl, and as straight as a 
 string !" 
 
 There had crept out, through the quenchless leak 
 of servants talk, a vari-colored version of the inci- 
 dent of Matthew and the transom; and the town 
 had grown so warm for that young gentleman that 
 he had gone to Alaska suddenly, to cool off, as it 
 were. His Grandmother, finding Mrs. Thaddler 
 invincible with this new weapon, and what she had 
 so long regarded as her home now visibly Mrs. 
 Weatherstone's, had retired in regal dignity to her 
 old Philadelphia establishment, where she upheld 
 the standard of decorum against the weakening 
 habits of a deteriorated world, for many years. 
 
 As Mr. Thaddler thought of this sweeping vic- 
 tory, he chuckled for the hundredth time. "She 
 ought to make good, and she will. Something's 
 got to be done about it," said he. 
 
 Diantha had never liked Mr. Thaddler; she did 
 not like that kind of man in general, nor his manner 
 toward her in particular. Moreover he was the hus- 
 band of Mrs. Thaddler. She did not know that 
 he was still the largest owner in the town's best 
 grocery store, and when that store offered her 
 special terms for her exclusive trade, she accepted 
 the proposition thankfully. 
 
 She told Ross about it, as a matter well within 
 his knowledge, if not his liking, and he was mildly 
 interested. "I am much alarmed at this new ven- 
 ture." he wrote, "but you must get your experience. 
 
166 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 I wish I could save 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 still better opportunity. He had 
 a reputation as a high liver, and had really intended 
 to sacrifice himself on the altar of friendship by 
 patronizing and praising this "undertaking" at any 
 cost to his palate; but no sacrifice was needed. 
 
 Diantha's group of day workers had their early 
 breakfast and departed, taking each her neat lunch- 
 pail, — they ate nothing of their employers; — and 
 both kitchen and dining room would have stood 
 idle till supper time. But the young manager knew 
 she must work her plant for all it was worth, and 
 speedily opened the dining-room with the side en- 
 trance as 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 your friends, at one of the 
 many small tables or in the flat-armed chairs in 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 one had time, it was 
 largely patronized. 
 
 Mr. Thaddler, as an experienced hon vivant, 
 despised sandwiches. "Picnicky makeshifts" he 
 called them, — "railroad rations" — "bread and leav- 
 ings," and when he saw these piles on piles of sand- 
 wiches, listed only as "No. 1," "No. 2." "No. 3," 
 
UNION HOUSE 167 
 
 and so on, his benevolent intention wavered. But 
 he pulled himself together and took a plateful, as- 
 sorted. 
 
 "Come on, Porne," he said, "we'll play it's a 
 Sunday school picnic," and he drew himself a cup 
 of cofifee, finding hot milk, cream and sugar crystals 
 at hand. "I never saw a cheap joint where you 
 could fix it yourself, before," he said, — and sus- 
 piciously tasted the mixture. 
 
 "By jing! That's coffee!" he cried in surprise. 
 "There's no scum on the milk, and the cream's 
 cream! Five cents! She won't get rich on this." 
 
 Then he applied himself to his "No. 1" sand- 
 wich, and his determined expression gave way to 
 one of pleasure. "Why that's bread — real bread! 
 I believe 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 rolls disappeared 
 at breakfast and supper, the fresh bread was packed 
 in the lunch pails, and the stale bread was even 
 now melting away in large bites behind the smiling 
 mouths and mustaches of many men. Perfect 
 bread, excellent butter, and "What's the filling I'd 
 like to know?" More than one inquiring-minded 
 patron split his sandwich to add sight to taste, but 
 few could be sure of the flavorsome contents, fat- 
 less, gritless, smooth and even, covering the entire 
 surface, the last mouthful as perfect as the first. 
 Some were familiar, some new, all were delicious. 
 
 The six sandwiches were five cents, the cup of 
 
168 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 coffee five, and the little "drop cakes," sweet and 
 spicy, were two for five. Every man spent fifteen 
 cents, some of them more; and many took away 
 small cakes in paper 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 on what we call 'domestic 
 economy,' which is domestic waste. I buy in large 
 quantities at wholesale rates, and my cook with 
 her little helper, the two maids, and my own share 
 of the work, of course, provides for the lot. 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 sandwiches that, in 
 large establishments, they have a 'sandwich kitchen' 
 to prepare them. 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 larger things. 
 
 The girl's methods were simple and so organized 
 as to make one hand wash the other. Her house 
 had some twenty-odd bedrooms, full accommoda- 
 tions for kitchen and laundry work on a large scale, 
 big dining, dancing, and reception rooms, and broad 
 shady piazzas on the sides. Its position on a corner 
 
UNION HOUSE 169 
 
 near the business part of the little city, and at 
 the foot of the hill crowned with so many million- 
 aires and near millionaires as could get land there, 
 offered many advantages, and every one was taken. 
 
 The main part of the undertaking was a House 
 Worker's Union; a group of thirty girls, picked 
 and trained. These, previously working out as ser- 
 vants, had received six dollars a week "and found." 
 They now worked an 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 and ballroom were theirs, except 
 when engaged for dances and meetings of one sort 
 and another. 
 
 It was a stirring year's work, hard but exciting, 
 and the only difficulty which really worried Diantha 
 was the same that worried the average 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 employes she demanded a 
 ten-hour day, she worked fourteen ; rising 
 at six and not getting to bed till eleven, when her 
 charges were all safely in their rooms for the night. 
 
 They were all up at five-thirty or thereabouts, 
 breakfasting at six, and the girls off in time to reach 
 their various places by seven. Their day was from 
 Y A. M. to 8.30 P. M., with half an hour out, from 
 11.30 to twelve, for their lunch; and three hours, 
 between 2.30 and 5.30, for their own time, including 
 their tea. Then they worked again from 5.30 to 
 8.30, on the dinner and the dishes, and then they 
 came home to a pleasant nine o'clock supper, and 
 had an hour to dance or rest before the 10.30 bell 
 for bed time. 
 
 Special friends and "cousins" often came home 
 with them, and frequently shared the supper— for 
 a quarter — and the dance for nothing. 
 
 It was no light matter in the first place to keep 
 twenty girls contented with such a regime, and 
 working with the steady excellence required, and 
 
THE POWER OF THE SCREW 171 
 
 in the second place to keep twenty employers con- 
 tented with them. There were failures on both 
 sides; half a dozen families gave up the plan, and 
 it took time to replace them; and three girls had 
 to be asked to resign before the year was over. 
 But most of them had been in training in the sum- 
 mer, and had listened for months to Diantha's 
 earnest talks to the clubs, with good results. 
 
 "Remember we are not doing this for ourselves 
 alone," she would say to them. "Our experiment 
 is going to make this kind of work easier for all 
 home workers everywhere. You may not like it 
 at first, but neither did you 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 
 
172 WHAT D I ANTRA DID 
 
 What annoyed the young manager most was the 
 uncertainty and irregularity involved in her work, 
 the facts varying considerably from her calcula- 
 tions. 
 
 In the house all ran smoothly. Solemn Mrs. 
 Thorald did the laundry work 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 reasonable about it," Diantha had 
 explained to them. "Your fifty cents covers a dozen 
 pieces — no more. If you want more you have to 
 pay more, just as your employers do for your extra 
 time." 
 
 This last often happened. No one on the face 
 of it could ask more than ten hours of the swift, 
 steady work given by the girls at but a fraction 
 over 14 cents an hour. Yet many times the house- 
 keeper was anxious for more labor on special days ; 
 and the girls, unaccustomed to the three free hours 
 in the afternoon, were quite willing to furnish it, 
 thus adding somewhat to their cash returns. 
 
 They had a dressmaking class at the club after- 
 noons, and as Union House boasted a good sewing 
 machine, many of them spent the free hours in 
 enlarging their wardrobes. Some amused them- 
 selves with light reading, a few studied, others met 
 and walked outside. The sense of honest leisure 
 grew upon them, with its broadening influence; and 
 among her thirty Diantha found four or five who 
 were able and ambitious, and willing to work heart- 
 ily for the further development of the business. 
 
THE POWER OF THE SCREW 173 
 
 Her two housemaids were specially selected. 
 When the girls were out of the house these two 
 maids washed the breakfast dishes with marvelous 
 speed, and then helped Diantha prepare for the 
 lunch. This was a large undertaking, and all three 
 of them, as well as Julianna and Hector, worked 
 at it until some six or eight hundred sandwiches 
 were ready, and two or three hundred little cakes. 
 
 Diantha had her own lunch, and then sat at 
 the receipt of custom during the lunch hour, making 
 change and ordering fresh supplies as fast as 
 needed. 
 
 The two housemaids had a long day, but so ar- 
 ranged that it made but ten hours work, and they 
 had much available time of their own. They had 
 to be at work at 5.30 to set the the table for six 
 o'clock breakfast, and then they were at ft steadily, 
 with the dining-rooms to "do," and the lunch to 
 get ready, until 11.30, when they had an hour to 
 eat and rest. From 12.30 to 4 o'clock they were 
 busy with the lunch cups, the bedrooms, and setting 
 the table for dinner; but after that they had four 
 hours to themselves, until the nine o'clock supper 
 was over, and once more they washed dishes for 
 balf an hour. The cafleteria used only cups and 
 spoons; the sandwiches and cakes were served on 
 paper plates. 
 
 In the hand-cart methods of small housekeeping 
 it is impossible to exact the swift precision of such 
 work, but not in the standardized tasks and regular 
 hours of such an establishment as this. 
 
174 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 Diantha religiously kept her hour at noon, and 
 tried to keep the three in the afternoon; but the 
 employer and manager cannot take irresponsible 
 rest as can the employee. She felt like a most in- 
 experienced captain on a totally new species of ship, 
 and her paper plans looked very weak sometimes, 
 as bills turned out to be larger than she had allowed 
 for, or her patronage unaccountably dwindled. But 
 if the difficulties were great, the girl's courage was 
 greater. "It is simply a big piece of work," she 
 assured herself, "and may be a long one, but there 
 never was anything better worth doing. Every new 
 business has difficulties, I mustn't think of them. 
 I must just push and push and push, — a litle more 
 every day." 
 
 And then she would draw on all her powers 
 to reason with, laugh at, and persuade some dis- 
 satisfied girl; or, hardest of all, to bring in a new 
 one 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 long cylindri- 
 cal closed pans, and cut by machinery into thin even 
 slices, not a crust wasted; for they were ground 
 into crumbs and used in the cooking. 
 
 The filling for her sandwiches was made from 
 fish, flesh, and fowl; from cheese and jelly and 
 fruit and vegetables; and so named or numbered 
 that the general favorites were gradually deter- 
 mined. 
 
 Mr. Thaddler chatted with her over the counter, 
 
FHE POWER OF THE SCREW 175 
 
 as far as she would allow 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 bene- 
 factor to humanity thrown in. I wish she'd start 
 her food delivery though. I'm tired of those two 
 Swedes already. Oh — come from? Up in Jopalez, 
 Inca County, I believe." 
 
 "New England stock, I bet," said Mr. Thaddler. 
 "It's a damn shame the way the 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 be sure. Women are the devil, 
 sometimes." 
 
 Mr. Porne smiled without answer, and Mr. Thad- 
 dler went sulking away — a bag of cakes bulging 
 in his pocket. 
 
 The little wooden hotel in Jopalez boasted an 
 extra visitor a few days later. A big red faced 
 man, who strolled about among the tradesmen, tried 
 the barber's shop, loafed in the postoffice, hired a 
 rig and traversed the length and breadth of the 
 town, and who called on Mrs. Warden, talking real 
 estate with her most politely in spite of her pro- 
 testation and the scornful looks of the four daugh- 
 ters; who bought tobacco and matches in the 
 grocery store, and' sat on the piazza thereof to 
 smoke, as did other gentlemen of leisure. 
 
176 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 Ross Warden occasionally leaned against the door 
 jamb, with folded arms. He never could learn to 
 be easily sociable with ranchmen and teamsters. 
 Serve them he must, but chat with them he need 
 not. The stout gentleman essayed some conversa- 
 tion, but did not get far. Ross was polite, but far 
 from encouraging, and presently went home to sup- 
 per, leaving a carrot-haired boy to wait upon his 
 lingering customers. 
 
 "Nice young feller enough," said the stout gen- 
 tleman to himself, "but raised 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. He steered club meetings and 
 "sociables" into her large rooms, and as people 
 found how cheap and easy it was to give parties that 
 way, they continued the habit. He brought his doc- 
 tor friends to sample the lunch, and they tested the 
 value of Diantha's invalid cookery, and were more 
 than pleased. 
 
 Hungry tourists were wholly without prejudice, 
 and prized her lunches for their own sake. They 
 descended upon the caffeteria in chattering swarms, 
 some days, robbing the regular patrons of their 
 food, and sent sudden orders for picnic lunches 
 and broke in upon the routine hours of the place 
 unmercifully. 
 
 But of all her patrons, the families of invalids 
 appreciated Diantha's work the most. Where a little 
 
THE POWER OF THE SCREW in 
 
 shack or tent was all tliey could afford to live in, 
 or where the tiny cottage was more than filled with 
 the patient, attending relative, and nurse, this depot 
 of supplies was a relief indeed. 
 
 A girl could be had for an hour or two ; or two 
 girls together, with amazing speed, could put a 
 small house in dainty order while the sick man 
 lay in his hammock under the pepper trees; and 
 be gone before he was fretting for his bed again. 
 They lived upon her lunches; and from them, and 
 other quarters, rose as increasing demand for regu- 
 lar 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 a pretty big business, I find, and 
 I do get tired sometimes. I can't afford to 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've got some ideas of my own 
 about those food containers." 
 
 They discussed the matter more than once, Di- 
 antha most reluctant to take any assistance; Mrs. 
 Weatherstone determined that she should. 
 
 "I feel like a big investor already," she said. 
 "I don't think even you realize the money there is 
 in this thing! You are interested in establishing 
 the working girls, and saving money and time for 
 the housewives. I am interested in making money 
 
178 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 out of it — honestly ! It would be such a triumph !" 
 
 "You're very good " Diantha hesitated. 
 
 "I'm not good. I'm most eagerly and selfishly 
 Interested. I've taken a new lease of life sincf 
 knowing you, Diantha Bell! You see my father 
 was 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's no end 
 to this thing, Diantha ! It's one of the biggest busi- 
 nesses on earth — if not the biggest!" 
 
 "Yes — I know," the girl answered. "But it's 
 slow work. I feel the weight of it more than I 
 expected. There's every reason to succeed, but 
 there's the combined sentiment of the whole world 
 to lift — it's as heavy as lead." 
 
 "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 let me start it right. Now you listen 
 to me, and make Mrs. Thaddler eat her words !" 
 
 Mrs. Thaddler's words would have proved rather 
 poisonous, if eaten. She grew more antagonistic 
 as the year advanced. Every fault that could be 
 found in the undertaking she pounced upon and 
 enlarged; every doubt that could be cast upon it 
 she heavily piled up ; and her opposition grew more 
 rancorous as Mr. Thaddler enlarged in her hearing 
 upon the excellence of Diantha's lunches and the 
 wonders of her management. 
 
 "She's picked a bunch o' winners in those girls 
 
THE POWER OF THE SCREW 179 
 
 of hers," he declared to his friends. "They set 
 out in the morning looking like a flock of sweet 
 peas — in their pinks and blues and greens and 
 vi'lets, — and do more work 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 of uniform, as far as a neat ging- 
 ham dress went, with elbow sleeves, white ruffled, 
 and a Dutch collar; a sort of cross between a 
 nurse's dress and that of "La Chocolataire" ; but 
 colors were left to taste. Each carried her apron 
 and a cap that covered the hair while cooking and 
 sweeping; but nothing that suggested the black and 
 white livery of the regulation servant. 
 
 "This is a new stage of labor," their leader re- 
 minded them. "You are not servants — ^you are 
 employees. You wear a cap as an English car- 
 penter does — or a French cook, — and an apron be- 
 cause your work needs it. It is not a ruffled label, 
 — it's a business necessity. And each one of us 
 must do our best to make this new kind of work 
 valued and respected." 
 
 It is no easy matter to overcome prejudices many 
 centuries old, and meet the criticism of women who 
 have nothing to do but criticize. Those who were 
 "mistresses," and wanted "servants," — someone to 
 do their will at any moment from early morning 
 till late evening, — were not pleased with the new 
 way if they tried it; but the women who had in- 
 terests of their own to attend to; who merely 
 wanted their homes kept clean, and the food well 
 
ISO WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 cooked and served, were pleased. The speed, the 
 accuracy, the economy; the pleasant, quiet, assured 
 manner of these skilled employees was a very dif* 
 f erent thing from the old slipshod methods of the 
 ordinary general servant. 
 
 So the work slowly prospered, while Diantha be- 
 gan to put in execution the new plan she had been 
 forced into. 
 
 While it matured, Mrs. Thaddler matured hers. 
 With steady dropping she had let fall far and 
 wide her suspicions as to the character of Union 
 House. 
 
 "It looks pretty queer to me!" she would say, 
 confidentially. "All those girls together, and no 
 person to have any authority over them! Not a 
 married woman in the house but that washer- 
 woman, — ^and her husband's a fool!" 
 
 And again: "You don't see how she does it? 
 Neither do I ! The expenses must be tremendous — 
 those girls pay next to nothing, — and all that broth 
 and brown bread flying about town ! Pretty queer 
 doings, I think!" 
 
 "The men seem to like that cafleteria, don't 
 they?" urged one caller, perhaps not unwilling to 
 nettle Mrs. Thaddler, who flushed darkly as she 
 replied. "Yes, they do. Men usually like that sort 
 of place." 
 
 "They like good food at low prices, if thait's 
 wbat yoa mean," her visitor answered. 
 
 "Hiat's not all I mean— by a loi^ way," said 
 Mrs. lliaddler. She said so much, and said it so 
 
THE POWER OF THE SCREW 181 
 
 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 the street. 
 Even the lunch patronage began to fall oflF. 
 
 Diantha was puzzled — a little alarmed. Her 
 slow, steady lifting of the prejudice against her 
 was checked. She could not put her finger on the 
 enemy, yet felt one distinctly, and had her own 
 suspicions. But she also had her new move well 
 arranged by this time. 
 
 Then a maliciously insinuating story of the place 
 came out in a San Francisco paper, and a flock of 
 local reporters buzzed in to sample the victim. 
 They helped themselves to the luncheon, and ^ liked 
 it, but that did not soften their pens. They talked 
 with such of the girls as they could get in touch 
 with; and wrote such versions of these talks as 
 suited them. 
 
 They called repeatedly at Union House, but 
 Diantha refused to see them. Finally she was vis- 
 ited by the Episcopalian clergyman. He had heard 
 her talk at The Club, was favorably impressed by 
 the girl herself, and honestly 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 own interests. I do not, as 
 you perhaps know, approve of your schemes. I 
 consider them — ah — subversive of the best interests 
 of the homel But I think you mean well, though 
 mistakenly. Now I fear you are not aware that 
 
182 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 this — ^ah — ill-considered undertaking of yours is 
 giving rise to considerable adverse comment in the 
 community. There is — ah — there is a great deal 
 being said about this business of yours which I 
 am sure you would regret if you knew it. Do 
 you think it is wise; do you think it is — ah — right, 
 my dear Miss Bell, to attempt to carry on a — a 
 place of this 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," she said; and then: 
 
 "May I have the pleasure of presenting to you 
 Mrs. Henderson Bell — ^my mother?" 
 
 "Wasn't it great!" said Mrs. Weatherstone ; "I 
 was there, you see, — I'd come to call on Mrs. Bell — 
 she's a dear, — and in came Mrs. Thaddler — " 
 
 "Mrs. Thaddler?" 
 
 "Oh, I know it was old Aberthwaite, but he 
 represented Mrs. Thaddler and her clique, and had 
 come there to preach to Diantha about propriety — 
 I heard him, — and she brought him in and very 
 politely introduced him to her 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 father objected — ^you'd know that. 
 But there's a sister — not a bad sort, only very lim- 
 ited; she's taken the old man to board, as it were, 
 and I guess the mother really set her foot down 
 
THE POWER OF THE SCREW 183 
 
 for once — said she had a right to visit her own 
 daughter !" 
 
 "It would seem so," Mrs. Pome agreed. "I am 
 so glad ! It will be so much easier for that brave 
 little woman now." 
 
 It was. 
 
 Diantha held her mother in her arms the night 
 she came, and cried like a baby. 
 
 "Oh, mother dear!" she sobbed, "I'd no idea 
 I should miss you so much. Oh, you blessed com- 
 fort!" 
 
 Her mother cried a bit, too; she enjoyed this 
 daughter more than either of her older children, 
 and missed her more. A mother loves all her 
 children, naturally ; but a mother is also a person — 
 and may, without sin, have personal preferences. 
 
 She took hold of Diantha's tangled mass of pa- 
 pers with the eagerness of a questing hound. 
 
 "You've got all the bills, of course?" 'she de- 
 manded, with her anxious rising inflection. 
 
 "Every one," said the girl. "You taught me 
 that much. What puzzles me is 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 must separate 
 your business, — see how much each one pays." 
 
 "The first one I want to establish," said her 
 daughter, "is the girl's club. Not just this one, 
 
184 IVHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 with me to run it, but to show that any group of 
 twenty or thirty girls could do this thing in any 
 city. Of course where rents and provisions were 
 high they'd have to charge more. I want to make 
 an average showing somehow. Now can you dis- 
 entangle the girl part from the lunch part and the 
 food part, mother dear, and make it all straight?" 
 Mrs. Bell could and did; it gave her absolute 
 delight to do it. She set down the total of Diantha's 
 expenses so far in the Service Department, as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 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 — 35x$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's club home, the rent and fix- 
 tures would be much less. A home could be built, 
 with thirty bedrooms — and all necessary con- 
 veniences — for $7,000. I've asked Mr. and Mrs, 
 
THE POWER OF THE SCREW 185 
 
 Porne about it; and the furnishing needn't cost 
 over $3,000 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 thou- 
 sand. I guess it could be done for that." 
 
 So they set down rent, $1,000. 
 
 "There would have to be five paid helpers in the 
 house," Diantha went on, "the cook, the laundress, 
 two maids, and the matron. She must buy and 
 manage. She could be one of their mothers or 
 aunts." 
 
 Mrs. Bell smiled. "Do you really imagine, Di- 
 antha, that Mrs. O'Shaughnessy or Mrs. Yon Yon- 
 son can manage a house like this as you can?" 
 
 Diantha flushed a little. "No, mother, of course 
 not. But I am keeping very full reports of all 
 the work. Just the schedule of labor — the hours — 
 the exact things done. One laundress, with ma- 
 chinery, can wash for thirty-five (it's only six a 
 day, you see), and the amount is regulated; 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 do the downstairs cleaning. 
 And the two maids have only table service and 
 bedrooms." 
 
 "Thirty-five bedrooms ?" 
 
 "Yes. But two girls together, who know how, 
 can do a room in 8 minutes— easily. They are 
 small and simple, you see. Make the bed, shake the 
 mats, wipe the floors and windows — ^you watch 
 them!" 
 
186 WHA T DIANTHA DID 
 
 "I have watched them," the mother admitted. 
 "They are as quick as — as mill- workers !" 
 
 "Well," pursued Diantha, "they spend three 
 hours on dishes and tables, and seven on cleaning. 
 The bedrooms take 280 minutes; that's nearly five 
 hours. The other two are for the bathrooms, 
 halls, stairs, downstairs windows, and so on. 
 That's all right. Then I'm keeping the menus — 
 just what I furnish and what it costs. Anybody 
 could order and manage when it was all set down 
 for her. And you see — as you have figured it — 
 they'd have 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 have steady 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 who don't keep her job — for good 
 reasons — they can drop her." 
 
 "M'm !" said Mrs. Bell. "Well, it's an interest- 
 ing experiment. But how about 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 
 
THE POWER OF THE SCREW 187 
 
 suggested. "Suppose you call it an average of 
 $15.00." 
 
 "Call it $10.00," said her mother ruthlessly. "At 
 that it covers your deficit and $110 over." 
 
 "Which isn't much to live on," Diantha agreed, 
 "but then comes my special catering, and the 
 lunches." 
 
 Here they were quite at sea for a while. But as 
 the months passed, and the work steadily grew on 
 their hands, Mrs. Bell became more and more 
 cheerful. She was up with the earliest, took entire 
 charge of the financial part of the concern, and at 
 last Diantha was able to rest fully in her afternoon 
 hours. What delighted her most was to see her 
 mother thrive in the work. Her thin shoulders 
 lifted a little as small dragging tasks were forgot- 
 ten and a large growing business substituted. Her 
 eyes grew bright again, she held her head as she 
 did in her keen girlhood, and her daughter felt 
 fresh hope and power as she saw already the 
 benefit of the new method as affecting her nearest 
 and dearest. 
 
 All Diantha's friends watched the spread of the 
 work with keenly sympathetic intent; but to Mrs. 
 Weatherstone it became almost as fascinating 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 surprise ready for 
 that girl in the spring, and another next year, if 
 I'm not mistaken!" 
 
188 IVHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 There were long and vivid discussions oi the 
 matter between her and her friends, the Pomes, 
 and Mrs. Porne spent more hours in her "drawing- 
 room" than she had for years. 
 
 But while these unmentioned surprises were 
 pending, Mrs. Weatherstone departed to New York 
 — to Europe; and was gone some months. In the 
 spring she returned, in April — ^which is late June 
 in Orchardina. She called upon 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 the better business head, I 
 think, in the financial line." 
 
 "She has," Diantha admitted. "She's ten times 
 as good as I am at that; but she's no more willing 
 to carry obligations that I am, Mrs. Weather- 
 stone." 
 
 "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 base capitalist, and 
 you seem to me good material to invest in. So — 
 take it or leave it — I've brought you an offer." 
 
 She then produced from her hand bag some 
 papers, and, from her car outside, a large object 
 carefully boxed, about the size and shape of a plate 
 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 to save paying duty. Lift it!" 
 
 They lifted it in amazement — ^it was so light. 
 
THE POWER OF THE SCREW 189 
 
 "Alamiaitm," she said, proudly. "Silver plated 
 — new process! And bamboo at the comers, 3rou 
 see. All lined and interlined with asbestos, rubber 
 fittings for silver ware, plate racks, food compart- 
 ments — see ?" 
 
 She pulled out drawers, opened little doors, and 
 rapidly laid out a table service for five. 
 
 "It will hold food for five — the average family, 
 you know. For larger orders 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't get 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's for soup, here's for water — 
 or wine, if you want, all your knives and forks 
 at the side, Japanese napkins up here. It's lovely, 
 but — I should think- — 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, Miss 
 Bell, at a rate of 10 per cent, interest; only $350 
 a year !" 
 
 "It ought to take more," said Mrs. Bell, "there"'ll 
 be breakage and waste." 
 
 "You can't break them, I tell you," said the 
 cheerful visitor, "and dents can be smoothed out 
 
190 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 at any tin shop — ^you'll have to pay for it; — ^will 
 that satisfy you ?" 
 
 Diantha was looking at her, her eyes deep with 
 gratitude. "I — ^you know what I think of you!" 
 she said. 
 
 Mrs. Weatherstone laughed. "I'm not through 
 yet," she said. "Look at my next piece of impu- 
 dence !" This was only on paper, but the pictures 
 were amply illuminating. 
 
 "I went to several factories," she gleefully ex- 
 plained, "here and abroad. A Yankee firm built 
 it. It's in my garage now !" 
 
 It was a light gasolene motor wagon, the body built 
 like those old-fashioned moving wagons which were 
 also used for excursions, wherein the floor of the 
 vehicle was rather narrow, and set low, and the 
 seats ran lengthwise, widening out over the 
 wheels; only here the wheels were lower, and in 
 the space under the seats ran a row of lockers 
 opening outside. Mrs. Weatherstone smiled tri- 
 umphantly. 
 
 "Now, Diantha Bell," she said, "here's something 
 you haven't thought of, I do believe! This esti- 
 mable vehicle will carry thirty people inside easily," 
 and she showed them how each side held twelve, 
 and turn-up seats accommodated six more; "and 
 outside," — she showed the lengthwise picture — "it 
 carries twenty-four containers. If you want to 
 send all your twenty-five at once, one can go here 
 by the driver. 
 
 "Now, then. This is not an obligation, Miss 
 
THE POWER OF THE SCREW 191 
 
 Bell, it is another valuable investment. I'm having 
 more made. I expect to have use for them in a 
 good many places. This cost pretty near $3,000, 
 and you get it at the same good interest, for $300 
 a year. What's more, if you are smart enough — 
 and I don't doubt you are, — ^you can buy the whole 
 thing on installments, same as you mean to with 
 your furniture." 
 
 Diantha was dumb, but her mother wasn't. She 
 thanked Mrs. Weatherstone with a hearty apprecia- 
 tion of her opportune help, but no less of her ex- 
 cellent investment. 
 
 "Don't be a goose, Diantha," she said. "You will 
 set up your food business in first-class style, and 
 I think you can carry it successfully. But Mrs. 
 Weatherstone's right; she's got a new investment 
 here that'll pay her better than most others — and 
 be a growing thing, I do believe." 
 
 And still Diantha found it difficult to express 
 her feelings. She had lived under a good deal of 
 strain for many months now, and this sudden open- 
 ing out of her plans was a heavenly help indeed. 
 
 Mrs. Weatherstone went around the table and 
 sat by her. "Child," said she, "you don't begin 
 to realize what you've done for me — and for Isa- 
 bel — and for ever so many in this town, and all 
 over the world. And besides, don't you think any- 
 body 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 help if we can. You wouldn't grudge 
 us that, would you?" 
 
192 WHAT D I ANTRA DID 
 
 As a result of all this the cooked food delivery 
 service was opened at once. 
 
 "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 have more 
 trouble with servants in summer than they do in 
 winter, and hate to have a fire in the house, too." 
 
 So Diantha's circulars had an addition, forth- 
 with. 
 
 These were distributed among the Orchardinians, 
 setting their tongues wagging anew, as a fresh 
 breeze stirs the leaves of the forest. 
 
 The stealthy inroads of lunches and evening re- 
 freshments had been deprecated already; this new 
 kind of servant who wasn't a servant at all, but held 
 her head up like anyone else ("They are as indepen- 
 dent as — as — 'salesladies,' " said one critic) , was 
 also viewed with alarm; but when even this do- 
 mestic assistant was to be removed, and a square 
 case of food and dishes substituted, all Archaic 
 Orchardina was horrified. 
 
 There were plenty of new minds in the place, 
 however; enough to start Diantha with seven full 
 orders and five partial ones. 
 
 Her work at the club was now much easier, 
 thanks to her mother's assistance, to the smoother 
 running of all the machinery with the passing of 
 time, and further to the fact that most of her girls 
 were now working at summer resorts, for shorter 
 hours and higher wages. They paid for thdr rooms 
 at the club still, but the work of the house was so 
 
THE POWER OF THE SCREW 193 
 
 much lightened that each of the employees was 
 given two weeks of vacation — on full pay. 
 
 The lunch department kept on a pretty regular 
 basis from the patronage of resident business men, 
 and the young manager — in her ambitious moments 
 — planned for enlarging it in the winter. But dur- 
 ing the summer her whole energies went to per- 
 fecting the menus and the service' of her food de- 
 livery. 
 
 Mrs. Porne was the very first to order. She 
 had been waiting impatiently for a chance to try 
 the plan, and, with her husband, had the firmest 
 faith in Diantha's capacity to carry it through. 
 
 "We don't save much in money," she explained 
 to the eager Mrs. Ree, who hovered, fascinated, 
 over the dangerous topic, "but we do in comfort, 
 I can tell you. You see I had two girls> paid them 
 $13 a week; now I keep just the one, for $6. My 
 food and fuel for the four of us (I don't count the 
 babies either time — they remain as before), was all 
 of $16, often more. 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 a laundress one day, $2, and her two 
 meals, $.50, making $23.50. Then I have two 
 maids, for an hour a day, to clean ; $.50 a day for 
 six days, $3, and one maid Sunday, $.35; $26.75 
 in all. So we only make $1.35. 
 
 "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 
 
194 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 of day nursery 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 the old Home and Culture 
 Club, and its older ideals, she disapproved of the 
 undertaking, but her curiosity was keen about it. 
 
 Mrs. Porne smiled patiently. "You remember 
 Diantha Bell's cooking I am sure, Mrs. Ree," she 
 said. "And Julianna used to cook for dinner par- 
 ties — when one could get her. My Swede was a 
 very ordinary cook, as most of these untrained girls 
 are. Do take off your hat and have dinner with 
 us, — I'll show you," urged Mrs. Pome. 
 
 "I — Oh, I mustn't," fluttered the little woman. 
 "They'll expect me at home — and — surely your — 
 supply — doesn't allow for guests?" 
 
 "We'll arrange all that by 'phone," her hostess 
 explained; and she promptly sent word to the 
 Ree household, then called up Union House and 
 ordered "one extra dinner." 
 
 "Is it — I'm dreadfully rude I know, but I'm so 
 interested! Is it — 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 order 
 than to tell a maid." 
 
 Mrs. Ree had a lively sense of paltering with 
 Satan as she sat down to the Pome's dinner table. 
 She had seen the delivery wagon drive to the door. 
 
THE POWER OF THE SCREW 195 
 
 had heard the man deposit something heavy on the 
 back porch, and was now confronted by a butler's 
 tray at Mrs. Porne's left, whereon stood a neat 
 square shining object with silvery panels and bam- 
 boo trimmings. 
 
 "It's not at all bad looking, is it?" she ventured 
 
 "Not bad enough to spoil one's appetite," Mr. 
 Pome cheerily agreed. 
 
 "Open, Sesame! Now you know the worst." 
 
 Mrs. Pome opened it, and an inner front was 
 shown, with various small doors and drawers. 
 
 "Do you know what is in it?" asked the guest. 
 
 "No, thank goodness, I don't," replied her hostess. 
 "If there's anything tiresome it is to order meals 
 and always know what's coming! That's what 
 men get so tired of at restaurants ; what they hate 
 so when their wives ask them what they want for 
 dinner. Now I can enjoy my dinner at my own 
 table, just as if I was a guest." 
 
 "It is — a tax — sometimes," Mrs. Ree admitted, 
 adding hastily, "but one is glad to do it — to make 
 home attractive." 
 
 Mr. Porne's eyes sought his wife's, and love and 
 contentment flashed between 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 it at last. It's a prob- 
 lem of weight, you see, and breakage. Aluminum 
 isn't pretty, glass and silver are heavy, but we all 
 
196 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 love silver, and there's a pleasant sense of gor- 
 geousness in this outfit." 
 
 It did look rather impressive; silver tumblers, 
 silver dishes, the whole t.'ainty service — and so sur- 
 prisingly light. 
 
 "You see she knows that it is very important 
 to please the eye as well as the palate," said Mr. 
 Porne. "Now speaking of palates, let us all keep 
 silent and taste this soup." They did keep silent 
 in supreme contentment while the soup lasted. 
 Mrs. Ree laid down her spoon with the air 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 ser- 
 vants," said he. "Three was about their limit, and 
 greasy, at that." 
 
 Mrs. Porne slipped the soup plates back in their 
 place and served the meat. 
 
 "She does not give a fish course, does she?" 
 Mrs. Ree observed. 
 
 "Not at the table d'hote price," Mrs. Pome an- 
 swered. "We never pretended 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 POWER OF THE SCREW 197 
 
 the visitor. "I do so love 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 devout thankfulness. I never was a 
 good carver, so it was no pleasure to me to show 
 off; and to tell you the truth, when I come to 
 the table, I like to eat — not saw wood." And Mr. 
 Pome ate with every appearance of satisfaction. 
 
 "We never get roast beef like this I'm sure," 
 Mrs. Ree admitted. "We can't get it small enough 
 for our family." 
 
 "And a little roast is always spoiled in the cook- 
 ing. Yes, this is far better than we used to have," 
 agreed her hostess. 
 
 Mrs. Ree enjoyed every mouthful of her meal. 
 The soup was hot. The salad was crisp and the 
 ice cream hard. There was sponge cake, thick, 
 light, with sugar freckles on the dark crust. The 
 coffee was perfect and almost burned the tongue. 
 
 "I don't understand about the heat and cold," 
 she said; and they showed her the asbestos-lined 
 compartments and perfectly fitting places for each 
 dish and plate. Everything went back out of sight; 
 small leavings in a special drawer, knives and 
 forks held firmly by rubber fittings, nothing that 
 shook or rattled. And the case was set back by 
 the door where the man called for it at eight 
 o'clock. 
 
 "She doesn't furnish table linen?" 
 
 "No, there are Japanese napkins at the top here. 
 
198 WHA T D I ANT HA DID 
 
 We like our own napkins, and we didn't use a cloth, 
 anyway." 
 
 "And how about silver?" 
 
 "We put ours away. This plated ware they fur- 
 nish is perfectly good. We could use ours of course 
 if we wanted to wash it. Some do that and some 
 have their own case marked, and their own silver 
 in it, but it's a good deal of risk, I think, though 
 they are extremely careful." 
 
 Mrs. Ree experienced peculiarly mixed feelings. 
 As far as food went, she had never eaten a better 
 dinner. But her sense of Domestic Aesthetics was 
 jarred. 
 
 "It certainly tastes good," she said, "delicious, 
 in fact. I am extremely obliged to you, Mrs. Porne. 
 I'd no idea it could be sent so far 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 the delivery wagon!" 
 
 That was the universal comment in Orchardina 
 circles as the months passed and Union House con- 
 tinued in existence — "I don't see how she does 
 it!" 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 LIKE A BANYAN TREE 
 
 The Earth-plants si)ring 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 Caffe- 
 teria, and in longer moments, rather neatly 
 planned for, with some remnants of an earlier 
 ingenuity, Mr. Thaddler contrived to become ac- 
 quainted 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 airs. 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 mo- 
 ment, but expatiated loyally on 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 
 
300 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 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 Or- 
 chardina at a distance. Why, she could have mar- 
 ried 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 town- 
 ship 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, seri- 
 ously rolling his big cigar about between pursed 
 lips. Mr. Thaddler 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. Elt- 
 wood's ardent championship, together with Mr. 
 Thaddler's, quieted the dangerous slanders which 
 had imperilled the place at one time. They lingered, 
 subterraneously, of course. People never forget 
 slanders. A score of years after there were to be 
 found in Orchardina folk who still whispered about 
 dark allegations concerning Union Hquse; and the 
 
LIKE A BANYAN TREE 201 
 
 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 propo- 
 sitions 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 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 
 and office, hall, kitchen and laundry, and thirty bed- 
 rooms, forty by thirty, with an 'ell' for the laun- 
 dry, ought to do it, oughtn't it?" 
 
 Mrs. Porne agreed to make plans, and did so 
 most successfully, and Mr. Porne found small diffi- 
 culty 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 proportions 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 
 
202 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 why I shouldn't succeed as well as Fred Harvey. I 
 will succeed. I am succeeding." 
 
 She kept well, she 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 house-keepers 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, iff the brilliant California 
 mornings, she would lie still a few moments look- 
 ing 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 con- 
 tinued strength with which she met the days and 
 carried them, made it all the more needful for her 
 to have some one with whom she could forget 
 every care, every purpose, every effort; some one 
 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. 
 
LIKE A BANYAN TREE 203 
 
 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 suppressed 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 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's all people. If this works, men 
 will have easier times, as well as women. Every- 
 body can do their real work better with this 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 caffeteria opened, and were glad of the after- 
 noon tea, often held in a retired comer 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; 
 
204 tVHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 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. 
 Eltwood. She had a vague sense of disappoint- 
 ment, 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 comer. 
 
 The man at the shop window, turned, too, and 
 went away. 
 
 Mr. Eltwood had been a warm friend and cor- 
 dial supporter from the epoch of 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 had met the mother's coming with 
 most friendly advances, and Mrs. Bell found her- 
 self 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 
 
LIKE A BANYAN TREE 205 
 
 their own separate feet, and establish the practical 
 working 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 labelled, 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 com- 
 ing. 
 
 "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. Eltwood looked at her with tender under- 
 standing. "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 laps, 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. Eltwood slowly, "if you 
 were offered heartiest appreciation, profound re- 
 spect, as well as love, of course, would you object 
 to marrying. Miss Bell?" asked in an even voice, 
 as if it were a matter of metaphysical inquiry. 
 
206 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 Mrs. Pome had told him of her theory as to a lover 
 in the home town, 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 emo- 
 tion under his quiet words. She withdrew her eyes, 
 looking quite the other way. 
 
 "You are enough of a friend to know, Mr. Elt- 
 wood," she said, "I rather thought 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 me thank you from my heart for 
 the help and strength and comfort you have been 
 to me, Mr. Eltwood." 
 
 "I'm 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 and a firm step. To 
 one who watched him go, he had almost a tri- 
 umphant air, but it was not triumph, only the brave 
 beginning 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 and a cup of tea. No, she didn't want 
 it iced. "Hot tea makes you cooler," was her 
 theory. 
 
LIKE A BANYAN TREE 207 
 
 "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 num- 
 ber — 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 com- 
 fort 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 your'e 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 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 
 
208 WHAT D I ANTRA DID 
 
 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 aver- 
 age 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. Thaddler says you could run any kind of 
 a business you set your hands to," her mother went 
 on. "He has a profound respect for your abilities, 
 Dina." 
 
 "Seems to me you and Mr. Thaddler have a good 
 deal to say to each other, motherkins. I believe 
 you enjoy that caffeteria desk, and all the compli- 
 ments 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 
 — Uke it immensely. And I don't wonder. I be- 
 lieve you'll do well to enlarge." 
 
 Then they plunged into a discussion of the win- 
 ter's 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 res- 
 taurant, and the depot for the cooked food delivery. 
 
 Mrs. Thorald and her husband were installed 
 by themselves in another new venture ; a small laun- 
 
LIKE 4 BANYAN TREE 209 
 
 dry 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 Di- 
 antha. "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 — ^tb 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. Laun- 
 dry work's 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 arc " 
 
 "I know it," the girl agreed. "The 
 led, step by step — the natural method. . 
 job, but not too big. Out of all the i , ooq 
 have done housework for so many ages "' 
 
210 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 not too much to expect one to have a special genius 
 for it!" 
 
 Her mother gazed at her with loving admira- 
 tion. 
 
 "That's just what you have, Dina — a special 
 genius for housework. I wish there were more of 
 you !" 
 
 "There are plenty of me, mother dear, only they 
 haven't come out. As soon as I show 'em 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, Dina." 
 
 "They don't need to," the girl answered cheer- 
 fully. "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 hus- 
 bands 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?" 
 
 J Mrs. Bell looked at her unbelievingly, 
 taurant 'nCan't afford it, Dina!" 
 
 Mrs. T?^' ^ *^^" — y°^ know I can, because you've 
 by themsel\^*^°^'^^^' ^'"^ going to make big money 
 
LIKE A BANYAN TREE 211 
 
 "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 note-book. 
 
 "Here's the little laundry place ; it's 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; ought to clear at least a thousand a year. 
 This service club don't pay me anything, of course ; 
 that is for the girls' 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 sum- 
 mer's — ^and the many transient residents ought to 
 increase it — they would have an average of twenty 
 families a week to provide for — one hundred per- 
 sons. 
 
 The expenses were: Per 
 
 year. 
 
 Foor for 100 at $2.50 a week $13,000 
 
 Labor — 
 
 Delivery man $ 600 
 
 Head cook 600 
 
 Two assistant cooks 1,040 
 
 Three washers and packers 1,560 
 
 Office girl 520 
 
 4,320 
 
212 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 Rent, kitchen, office, etc.,. .$ 500 
 
 Rent of motor 300 
 
 Rent of cases 250 
 
 Gasolene and repairs 630 
 
 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 per capita for three meals, 
 table d'hote, delivered thrice daily. Frequent or- 
 ders for extra meals really gave them more than 
 they set down, but the hundred-person estimate 
 amounted to $26,000 a year. 
 
 "Now, see," said Diantha triumphantly; "sub- 
 tract all that expense list (and it is a liberal one), 
 and we have $7,000 left. I can buy the car and 
 the cases this year and have $1,500 over! More; 
 because if I do buy them I can leave off some 
 of the interest, and the rent of the kitchen and 
 office comes to Union House! Then there's all of 
 the extra orders. It's going to pay splendidly, 
 mother! It clears $70 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 
 
LIKE A BANYAN TREE 213 
 
 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 pros- 
 pect 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 sum- 
 mer's profit on the cooked food — it's plenty." 
 
 "Then you can't 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 $5,500 lee- 
 way." 
 
 "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 to come and live at the hotel 
 
214 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 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 comer 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 to her 
 ears came suddenly the sound of a familiar step — 
 a well-known voice — ^the hands and 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 I" 
 
 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 of3f — 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 an 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 
 
LIKE A BANYAN TREE 216 
 
 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 ranch- 
 man, 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 moun- 
 tains; has a little canyon of its own^ts 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 afternon," 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, 
 
216 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 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 Ufe— 
 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 — incidently — 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?" 
 
 She raised her head. 
 
 "Get out of— wh^?" she faltered. 
 
 "Why, tht 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 not believe him. 
 
 "Why, dear," she said, "if your ranch is as near 
 as that it would be perfectly easy for me to come in 
 to 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 
 fruit ranch, with land rented to advantage, and a 
 competent manager right there running it. It's 
 simply changed owners. I'm the owner now! 
 
LIKE A BANYAN TREE 217 
 
 There's two or three thousand a year to be made 
 on it — has been made on it! There is a home for 
 my people — a home for us ! Oh, my beloved girl 1 
 My darling ! My own sweetheart ! Surely — surely 
 you won't refuse me now !" 
 
 Diantha's head swam dizzily. 
 
 "But Ross," she urged, "you don't understand! 
 I've built up a good business here — & real success- 
 ful 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' — ^bet- 
 ter 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 both. So do I. 
 Can't you see? Why should I have to give up any- 
 thing?" 
 
 "You do not have to," he said patiently. "I can- 
 not compel you to marry me. But now, when at 
 
218 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 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 dear and 
 steady. 
 
 He rose to his feet with a muffled exclamation, 
 and walked the length of the 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 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 
 
LIKE A BANYAN TREE 219 
 
 swiftly, with a black rebellion in his heart; and 
 Diantha dragged herself to bed. 
 
 She was stunned, deadened, exhausted; torn 
 with a 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 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 from her 
 expensive shoes, and returned to adorn 
 the more classic groves of Philadelphia, Mrs. 
 Thaddler assumed to hold undisputed sway as a 
 social leader. 
 
 The Social Leader she meant to be; and mar- 
 shalled her forces to that end. She Patronized 
 here, and Donated there; revised her visiting list 
 with rigid eJtclusiveness ; secured an Eminent Pro- 
 fessor 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 de- 
 portment ; and spent more and more time behind his 
 fast horses, or on the stock-ranch where he raised 
 
ALL THIS 221 
 
 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 Jopalez, 
 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 Jopalez 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, Rossi 
 Do be more cordial to Mr. Thaddler." 
 
 But Ross could not at present be cordial to any- 
 body. His unexpected good fortune, the freedom 
 from hated cares, and chance to work out his mighty 
 theories on the faithful guinea-pig, ought to have 
 filled his soul with joy; but Diantha's cruel obsti- 
 nacy 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 mis- 
 erable and also stubborn. They argued till there 
 
222 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 was grave danger of an absolute break between 
 them; then dropped the subject by mutual agree- 
 ment, 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, 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 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 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 say- 
 ing that she could not take her daughters to a 
 Servant Girls' Club. 
 
 And though the Servant Girls' Club was soon 
 removed to its new quarters and Union House be- 
 came 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. 
 Thaddler, who rejoiced in it, and called upon Mrs. 
 
ALL THIS 223 
 
 Warden in her largest automobile. As a mother 
 with four marriageable daughters, Mrs. Warden 
 was delighted to accept and improve the acquaint- 
 ance, but her aristocratic Southern soul was in- 
 wardly rebellious at the ancestorlessness and un- 
 cultured moneyed pride of her new friend. 
 
 "If only Madam Weatherstone had stayed!" she 
 would complain to her daughters. "She had Fam- 
 ily as well as Wealth." 
 
 "There's young Mrs. Weatherstone, mother " 
 
 suggested Dora. 
 
 "A nobody!" her mother replied. "She has the 
 Weatherstone money, of course, bsit 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 per- 
 haps 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 
 
234 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 of vacation at her seashore 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 sees 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 Pomes ; they were 
 'drifting apart,' as the novels have it — ^and no 
 wonder. Isabel was absolutely no good as a house- 
 keeper; 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 oil Isabel'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 
 thing's going well, and look at your mother — she's 
 made over!" 
 
ALL THIS 
 
 DiatithA 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?" 
 
 "And you won't give it up to marry him?" 
 
 "No." said Diantha. "No. Why should I? I'd 
 marry him — to-morrow !" 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. 
 Hm! 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 would tell her all 
 She knew of the intense satisfaction of the people 
 she served, and pleasant stories about the girls. She 
 brought 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 Orchardina 
 library with a special bibliography on the subject, 
 
226 WHAT D I ANT HA DID - 
 
 and induced the new Woman's Club to take up a 
 course of reading in it, so that there gradually 
 filtered into the Orchardina mind a faint perception 
 that this was not the freak of an eccentric indi- 
 vidual, but part of an inevitable business develop- 
 ment, 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 Jopalez with outer 
 reluctance but inner satisfaction. He had rented 
 his place, and Susie had three babies now. Hender- 
 son, 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 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 pat- 
 enting 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 within 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. 
 
ALL THIS 2?7 
 
 "Women nowadays seem to do anjrthing they want 
 to!" And he rigidly paid his board bill with a 
 flourish. 
 
 Meanwhile the impressive gatherings at Mrs. 
 Thaddler's, and the humbler tea and card parties 
 of Diantha's friends, had a new topic as a shut- 
 tlecock. 
 
 A New York company had bought one of the 
 largest and finest blocks in town — the old Para 
 place — and was developing it in a manner hitherto 
 unseen. The big, shabby, neglected estate began 
 to turn into such a fairyland 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 were 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-gray 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 
 the genii 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. 
 
228 WHAT D I ANT HA DID 
 
 "Lots of little houses and one big one," the em- 
 ployees 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 flour- 
 ished 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. Pome came to see her, and to 
 compare notes over their friend's success. For 
 
ALL THIS 229 
 
 Mrs. Weatherstone had been presented at Court— 
 at more than one court, in fact; and Mrs. Weather- 
 stone had been proposed to by a Duke— and had 
 refused him ! Orchardina well-nigh swooned 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 popu- 
 larity everywhere she went. 
 
 Other proposals, of a magnificent nature, were 
 reported, with more magnificent refusals; and Or- 
 chardina began to be very proud of young Mrs. 
 Weatherstone and to wish she would come back. 
 
 She did at last, bringing an Italian Prince with 
 her, and a Hoch Geborene German Count also, who 
 alleged they were travelling to study the country, 
 but who were 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 from 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 a reception and ball. 
 
 All Orchardina came — so far as it had been 
 
230 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 invited. There was the Prince, sure enough — a 
 pleasant, blue-eyed young man. And there was the 
 Count, 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 the 
 dinner — ^that was clear. And now she stood there 
 in her soft, dark evening dress, the knot 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 you's" 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 prac- 
 tical talk. 
 
 Mrs. Weatherstone had taken pains to call upon 
 the Wardens— claiming a connection, if not a rela- 
 tionship, 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 
 
ALL THIS 231 
 
 warmly; but Mrs. Weatherstone did more. Hold- 
 ing them all in a little group beside her, she intro- 
 duced her noble visitors to them; imparted the 
 further information that their brother was 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 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?" 
 
 "Your ladies of America have all things in your 
 hands," said the Prince to Miss Cora. "To think 
 that 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, Dian- 
 tha 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. Thaddler 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 dangerous 
 speed over the moon-white country roads. 
 
232 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 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 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 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. 
 
 "Very well, thank you, Mr. Thaddler." 
 
 "Them Chinks pay up promptly?" 
 
 "As prompt as the month comes round. Their 
 rent is a very valuable part of the estate." 
 
 "Yes," Mr. Thaddler pursued. "They have a 
 good steady market for their stuff. 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 propo- 
 sition ever since she sprung it on us," Mr. Thad- 
 dler 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 
 
ALL THIS 233 
 
 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, maybe, here and there." And he chuckled 
 softly. "But this ranch I bought on purpose." 
 
 Ross turned as if he had been stung. 
 
 "You The 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. Though 
 it would be nice to have it all in the family, eh ?" 
 
 Ross was silent for a few turbulent moments, 
 revolving this far from pleasant information. 
 
 "What'd I do it for?" continued the unmasked 
 benefactor. "What do you think I did it for? So 
 that brave, sweet little girl down here could have 
 her heart's desire. She's established her business- 
 she's proved her point — -she's won the town— most 
 of it; and there's nothing on earth to make her 
 unhappy now but your pigheadedness ! Young man, 
 I tell you you're a plumb fool !" 
 
 One cannot throw one's host out of his own 
 swift-flying car; nor it is wise to jump out one's 
 self. 
 
 "Nothing on earth between you but your cussed 
 pride !" Mr. Thaddler remorselessly went on. "This 
 ranch is honestly yours — by a square deal. Your 
 Jopalez 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 ! 
 
234 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 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 busi- 
 ness way and a scientific way, young man. But 
 why in Hades you can't let her be happy, too, is 
 more'n I can 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. Thaddler." 
 
 "You're not, young man, you're not ! I ran that 
 shop of yours a year — ^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 
 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. 
 
 "There she is to-night, receiving with Mrs. 
 Weatherstone — ^with those Bannerets, Dukes and 
 Earls about her — standing up there like a Princess 
 herself — and her eyes on the door all the time — and 
 tears in 'em, I could swear — ^because you don't 
 come I" 
 
ALL THIS 235 
 
 They drew up with a fine curve before the car- 
 riage gate. 
 
 "I'll take 'em all home — ^they won't be ready 
 for some time yet," said Mr. Thaddler. "And if 
 you two would like this car I'll send for the other 
 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-old evening suit than even the Hoch 
 Geborene in his uniform, he came at last, and Di- 
 antha saw him the moment he entered; saw, too a 
 new light in his eyes. 
 
 He went straight to her. And Mrs. Weather- 
 stone did not lay it up 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-bowered seats they knew. 
 
 The moon filled all the world with tender light 
 and the orange blossoms flooded the 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 approve of your work — I cannot approve 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. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AND HEAVEN BESIDE 
 
 That which mankind from birth forever seeks; 
 
 All men, all women, in the dark or light; 
 This common voice must be where nature speaks. 
 
 This common need is surely proven right 
 
 Deep in the human heart lies one demand; 
 
 One simple, natural longing all confess; 
 We ask of Life, of Love, of God's High hand. 
 
 This one thing only — Perfect Happiness! 
 
 THEY were married while the flowers were 
 knee-deep over the sunny slopes and mesas, 
 and the canyons gulfs of color and fra- 
 grance, 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-forgetting 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, rejoicing in the level shafts of 
 forest filtered sunlight. They played and ran like 
 children, rejoiced over their picnic meals; lay flat 
 
AND HEAVEN BESIDE 337 
 
 among the crowding flowers and slept under the 
 tender starlight. 
 
 "I don't see," said her lover, "but that my strenu- 
 ous Amazon is just as much a woman as — as any 
 woman !" 
 
 "Who ever said I wasn't?" quoth Diantha de- 
 murely. 
 
 A month of perfect happiness. It was so short 
 it seemed but a moment ; so long in its rich perfec- 
 tion that they both agreed that 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 runabout car bringing out a girl in the 
 morning early, and taking Diantha in to her office. 
 
 But motor cars are not infallible; and if it met 
 with any accident there was a delay at both ends, 
 and more or less friction. 
 
 Thert Diantha engaged a first-class Oriental 
 gentleman, well recommended by the "vegetable 
 Chinaman," 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. 
 
238 IV HAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 Her mother, growing plumper now, thriving con- 
 tinuously in her new lines of work, kept the hotel 
 under her immediate management, and did book- 
 keeping for the whole concern. New Union Home 
 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 ad- 
 vertisement like a pleased customer," and her 
 pleased customers grew in numbers and in en- 
 thusiasm. Family after family learned to prize the 
 cleanliness and quiet, the odorlessness and flyless- 
 ness of a home without a kitchen, and their ques- 
 tioning 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 in- 
 competent one; albeit without the sanctity of the 
 home. 
 
 "Sanctity of your bootstraps!" protested one 
 irascable gentleman. "Such talk is 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 shoe- 
 making.' Why all this talk about 'home cooking'?" 
 
AND HEAVEN BESIDE 239 
 
 What pleased the men most was not only the 
 good food, but its clock-work regularity; and not 
 pnly 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. Thaddler 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 the 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 com- 
 pany than a polite Chinaman some distance off. 
 
 It was by no means easy for Diantha, either. 
 To leave him tugged at her heart-strings, 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 over- 
 whelming 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 
 
240 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 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 develop- 
 ment with high satisfaction. 
 
 But he never could bring himself to ask about 
 her labors with any genuine approval; she was 
 keenly sensitive to his dislike for the subject, and 
 so it was ignored between them, or treated by hin? 
 in a vein of humor with which he strove to" cover 
 his real feeling. 
 
 When, before many months were over, the crown- 
 ing triumph of her effort revealed itself, her joy 
 and pride held this bitter drop — he did not sym- 
 pathize — did not approve. Still, it was a great 
 glory. 
 
 The New York Company announced the com- 
 
AND HEAVEN BESIDE 241 
 
 pktion of their work and the Hotel del las Casas 
 was opened to public inspection. "House of the 
 Houses! That's a fine name!" said some dis- 
 paragingly ; but, at any rate, it seemed appropriate. 
 The big estate was one rich garden, more pictur- 
 esque, 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 unostentatious, full 
 of gaiety and charm, ofifering 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 gar- 
 den of Babylon, a Court of Stars, with views of 
 purple mountains, fair, wide valley and far-flashing 
 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 happiness 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 another 
 
242 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 comer, but came back with Ohs! and Ahs! 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. 
 Pome and Mrs. Weatherstone with her. She en- 
 joyed 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 stoves. 
 
 The fuel all went into a small, solidly built power 
 house, and came out in light and heat and force 
 for the whole square. 
 
 Diantha sighed in absolute appreciation. 
 
 "Fine, isn't it?" said Mr. Pome. 
 
 "How do you like the architecture?" asked Mrs. 
 Pome. 
 
 "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 — I'm president of the 
 Hotel del 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!" 
 
AND HEAVEN BESIDE 243 
 
 It took some time to explain all this, but the facts 
 were visible enough. 
 
 "Nothing remarkable at all," said Mrs. Weather- 
 stone. "Here's Astor with three 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 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 "c. f. d." busi- 
 ness 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 to do things worth while. 
 
 Two years; and there was a small Ross Warden 
 bom. 
 
 She loved it, nursed it, and ran her business at 
 long range for six months. But then she brought 
 nurse and child to the hotel with her, placed them 
 in the 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 
 
244 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 home; but always in the background was the cur- 
 rent of Ross' unspoken disapproval. 
 
 Three years, four years. 
 
 There were three babies now; Diantha was a 
 splendid woman of thirty, handsome and strong, 
 pre-eminently success ful-^-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. 
 
 Meanwhile in the friendly opportunities of Or- 
 chardina society, added to by the unexampled 
 possibilities of Las Casas (and they did not scorn 
 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 
 "d. s." and the "c. f. d." 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 and learning bookkeeping. She be- 
 came an excellent accountant and bade fair to 
 become an expert manager soon. 
 
 Ross had prospered in his work. It may be 
 that the element of dissatisfaction in his married 
 life spurred him on, while the unusual opportuni- 
 ties of his ranch allowed free effort He had 
 always held that the "non-transmissability of ac- 
 quired traits" was not established by any number 
 of curtailed mice or crop-eared rats. "A mutilation 
 is not an acquired trait," he protested. "An ac- 
 quired trait is one gained by exercise; it modifies 
 
AND HEAVEN BESIDE 245 
 
 the whole organism. It must have an effect on the 
 race. 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 fines 
 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 disci- 
 pline. 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 wheel 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 stall-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 porkers 
 
246 WHAT DIANTHa DID 
 
 in the sty. He set them to race — ^the young un- 
 trained 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 un- 
 trained 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 out- 
 ran them in a race for "Mama." Wherefore Mr. 
 Ross Warden found himself famous of a sudden; 
 and all over the scientific world the Weismanian 
 controversy raged anew. He was invited to de- 
 liver 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 
 
AND HEAVEN BESIDE 247 
 
 swing with her big business, busy and successful, 
 honored and Hked by all the town — ^practically — 
 and quite independent of the small fraction which 
 still disapproved. Some people always will. She 
 was 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 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. Weather- 
 stone one quiet day, and admitted that she had no 
 cause for complaint. 
 
 "And yet — ?" said her friend. 
 
 Young Mrs. Warden smiled. "There's no keep- 
 ing 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 don't know," she said. 
 
248 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 Diantha reached a strong hand to clasp her 
 friend's. "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 per cent investments, and put it 
 into ten per cent 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 has 
 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 'Las Casas!' all suc- 
 ceeding — 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 hearts 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 
 
AND HEAVEN BESIDE 349 
 
 controversies and triumphs; rather briefly — ^and 
 then: 
 
 "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 transmissability. 
 
 "From what I hear about you in foreign lands; 
 I have at last begun to grasp the nature and im- 
 portance 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 fol- 
 lowed. 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'm proud of you — tre- 
 mendously proud of you. As your husband! Ah! 
 my 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, bury- 
 
250 WHAT DIANTHA DID 
 
 ing 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 sighs between. "Thank you ! — Oh — ^thank 
 you!" 
 
 TEE END, 
 
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 English-speaking parent — The Times, New York. 
 
 Should be read by every mother in the land. 
 
 —The Press, New York. 
 
 Wholesomely disturbing book that deserves to be 
 read for its own sake. — Chicago Dial. 
 
 "In This Our World." $1.25 
 
 There is a joyous superabundance of life, of 
 strength, of health, in Mrs. Oilman's verse, which 
 seems born of the glorious sunshine and rich gardens 
 of California. — Washington Times. 
 
 The freshness, charm and geniality of her satire 
 temporarily convert us to her most advanced views. 
 
 — Boston Journal. 
 
 The poet of women and for women, a new and 
 prophetic voice in the world. Montaigne would have 
 rejoiced in her. — Mexican Herald. 
 
 "The Yellow Wallpaper." $0.50 
 
 Worthy of a place beside some of the weird master- 
 pieces of Hawthorne and Poe. — Literature. 
 
 As a short story it stands among the most powerful 
 produced in America. — Chicago News. 
 
 Sent postpaid by 
 
 The Charlton Company, 67 Wall St., New York 
 
BOOKS BY 
 
 Charlotte Perkins Gilman 
 
 "The Home." $1.00 
 
 Indeed, Mrs. Gilman has not intended her book so 
 much as a treatise for scholar as a surgical operation on the 
 popular mind. —The Critic, New York. 
 
 Whatever Mrs. Gilman writes, people read — approving 
 or protesting, still they read. 
 
 — Republican, Springfield, Mass. 
 
 Full of thought and of new and striking suggestions. 
 Tells what the average woman has and ought not keep, 
 what she is and ought not be. — Literature World. 
 
 But it is safe to say that no more stimulating arraign- 
 ment has ever before taken shape and that the argument 
 of the book is noble, and, on the whole, convincing. 
 
 — Congregationalist, Boston. 
 
 The name of this author is a guarantee of logical 
 reasoning, sound economical principles and progressive 
 thought. — The Craftsman, Syracuse. 
 
 Sent postpaid by 
 
 The Charlton Company, 67 Wall St., New York 
 
BOOKS BY 
 
 Charlotte Perl^ins Oilman 
 
 "Women and Economics." $1.50 
 
 Since John Stuart Mill's essay there has been no 
 book dealing with the whole position of women to 
 approach it in originality of conception and brilliancy 
 of exposition. — London Chronicle. 
 
 The most significant utterance on the subject since 
 Mill's "Subjection of Women." —The Nation. 
 
 It is the strongest book on the woman question that 
 has yet been published. —Minneapolis Journal. 
 
 A remarkable book. A work on economics that has 
 not a dull page, — the work of a woman about women 
 that has not a flippant word. — Boston Transcript. 
 
 This book unites in a remarkable degree the charm 
 of a brilliantly written essay with the inevitable logic 
 of a proposition of Euclid. Nothing that we have 
 read for many a long day can approach in clearness 
 of conception, in power of arrangement, and in lucidity 
 of expression the argument developed in the first seven 
 chapters of this remarkable book. 
 
 — Westminster Gazette, London. 
 
 Will be widely read and discussed as the cleverest, 
 fairest, most forcible presentation of the view of the 
 rapidly increasing group who look with favor on the 
 extension of industrial employment to women. 
 
 — Political Science Quarterly. 
 
 Sent postpaid by 
 
 The Charlton Company, 67 Wall St., New Yo 
 

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