The Forerunner Part 64

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 p.o.r.ne was a cautious woman, and made no acclaim over her new acquisition until its value was proven. Her husband also bided his time; and when congratulated on his improved appearance and 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. p.o.r.ne in the changed atmosphere of her home.

"It is remarkable, Edgar," she said, dilating repeatedly on the peculiar quality of their good fortune. "It's not only good cooking, and good waiting, and a clean house--cleaner than I ever saw one before; and it's not only the quietness, and regularity 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 intently.

"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 housework 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. p.o.r.ne 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 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 Topolaya where she came from. I'm afraid she's engaged." Mrs. p.o.r.ne sighed ruefully.

"I don't doubt it!" said Mr. p.o.r.ne. "That would account for her six months' arrangement! Well, my dear--make hay while the sun s.h.i.+nes!"

"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 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 way myself--sometimes. What's the other?"

"Why that's best of aIl!" she cried triumphantly. "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 loving?" he asked in a quiet inquiring voice.

"It's more because it means _both!_" 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, blus.h.i.+ng richly. "Now stop--I want to explain. When the housework got to be such a nightmare--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--O now I've got It and You too, darling! _And_ the Baby!--O 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 p.o.r.ne household, and the lady of the house blossomed into richer beauty and happiness; her contentment marred only by a sense of flying time.

Miss Bell fulfilled her carefully specified engagement 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 servants of the neighborhood, establis.h.i.+ng a large and friendly acquaintance. If she wore rubber gloves about the rough work, she paid for them herself; and she washed and ironed her simple and pretty costumes 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--a good strong girl, and quite devoted 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," 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. "Its 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 p.o.r.ne had "solved the servant question." News of this marvel of efficiency and propriety was discussed in every household, and not only so but in barber-shops and other downtown meeting places mentioned. Servants gathered it at dinner-tables; and Diantha, much amused, regathered it from her new friends among the servants.

Does she keep on just the same?" asked little Mrs. Ree of Mrs. p.o.r.ne 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. 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 Danks.h.i.+re, "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 scientifically. 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.

p.o.r.ne 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 ask?" loftily inquired the great Mrs. Thaddler, ponderous and beaded.

"There is surely no objection to your asking, madam," she replied politely. "Mrs. p.o.r.ne will not mind telling you, I am sure."

"Hm!" said the patronizing visitor, regarding her through her lorgnette.

"Very good. Whatever it is I'll double it. When can you come?"

"My engagement with Mrs. p.o.r.ne is for six months," Diantha answered, "and I do not wish to close with anyone else until that time is up.