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　c