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 pleasant bedrooms stretched open and
orderly。
〃She said that if I didn't mind she'd give it a superficial general
cleaning today and be more thorough later！〃
Mrs。 Weatherstone looked about her with a rather languid interest。 〃I'm
very glad for you； Belle； dearbutwhat an endless nuisance it all
isdon't you think so？〃
〃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
thatpalace； 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 backslike snails！〃
〃Don't see why； with ten （or is it fifteen？） servants。〃
〃Its twenty； I think。 But my dear Belle； if you imagine that when you
have twenty servants you have neither work nor carecome 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 happybut this
business〃she swept a white hand wearily about〃it's not my work；
that's all。〃
〃But you _enjoy_ it； don't youI 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； without 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 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 youwith this other Belle to the fore？〃
〃She's not Belle； bless youshe's 'Miss Bell。' It's her last name。〃
Mrs。 Weatherstone smiled her faint smile。 〃Wellwhy 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 courtesyOh she's a
most superior _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 Isabel； 〃but not a
domestic servant。I'll remember what you say about those windowsit's
a good idea；〃 and she made a careful note of Mrs。 Weatherstone'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。
〃WhyMr。 Weatherstone；〃 said Mrs。 Porne。
〃Nonot 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
thingbut not like this。 What's happened Viva？〃
〃Nothing that anybody can help；〃 said her friend。 〃Nothing that
matters。 What does matter； anyway？ Fuss and fuss and fuss。 Dress and
entertain。 Travel till you're tired； and rest till you're crazy！
Thenwhen a real thing happensthere's all this！〃 and she lifted her
black draperies disdainfully。 〃And mourning notepaper and cards and
servant's liveryand all the things you mustn't do！〃
Isabel put an arm around her。 〃Don't mind； dearyou'll get over
thisyou are young enough yetthe 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 elsenothing in life。 That's why I
married Martin Weatherstonenot for his old millionsbut he really
caredand I was sorry for him。 Now he's dead。 And I'm wearing
thisand 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 houseif you ran things
yourself；〃ventured Mrs。 Porne。
Mrs。 Weatherstone laughed。 〃And turn out the old lady？ You don't know
her。 Why she managed her son till he ran away from herand after he
got so rich and imported her from Philadelphia to rule over Orchardina
in general and his household in particular； she managed that poor little
first wife of his into her grave； and that wretched boyhe's the only
person that manages her！ She's utterly spoiled himthat was his
father's constant grief。 No； nolet her run the houseshe thinks she
owns it。〃
〃She's fond of you； isn't she？〃 asked Mrs。 Porne。
〃O I guess soif I let her have her own way。 And she certainly saves
me a great deal of trouble。 Speaking of trouble； there they areshe
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 impassive 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 letters； 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 hometo leave school…teaching； to leave loveand 〃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 expected。
〃The _idea！_〃 wrote Mrs。 Susie。 〃A girl with a good home to live in and
another to look forward toand 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 friendsand 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 relatives。 She found
tears in her eyes over her mother's letter。 Her sister's made her both
sorry and angrya most disagreeable feelingas 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 evening。 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 noiselessly against the window screen。 She kissed
the letter again； held it tightly to her heart for a moment； and opened
it。
〃Dearest： I have your letter with itssomewhat surprisingnews。 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 preliminary 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 unutterably foolish and wrong。
〃I suppose you expect by some mysterious process to 〃develope〃 and
〃elevate〃 this housework business； and to make money。 I should not love
you any better if you made a millionand I would not take money from
youyou know that； I hope。 If in the years we must wait before we can
marry； you are happier away from meworking in strange kitchensor
officesthat 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 boughsin 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
letterher 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
meplease！ I need it。〃 Diantha was not 〃gifted in prayer。〃
When Mr。 Porne came home that night he found the wifely smile which is
supposed to greet all returning husbands quite genuinely in evidence。
〃O Edgar！〃 cried she in a triumphant whisper； 〃I've got such a nice
girl！ She's just as neat and quick； you've no idea the work she's done
todayit looks like another place already。 But if things look queer at
dinner don't notice itfor 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