ad 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. 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
today--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 palpable perfections were probably accompanied by some drawbacks.
But he liked her looks, he admitted, 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 simply running over with
information to give her husband.

"Such a talk as I have had with Miss Bell! She is so queer! But she's
nice too, and it's all reasonable 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
beautiful, 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 unpresuming,