Times were good in Oakdale. The only trouble was with certain great manufacturers, whose men would desert and go over the river to work even for less wages, because it was “jolly” there, as they said. Men came from neighboring towns and besieged the doctor for work, or, failing, took the place of deserters in the window-sash and blind factory of Ely & Gerrish; and so hundreds of families moved into the town. Ely & Gerrish, however, did not lose many of their workmen, for they had provided some years ago a “workmen’s home,” a very superior tenement-house, which had been constantly full of tenants; but some other firms had to stop business. The bet between the count and Kendrick was decided after considerable difficulty in getting at the facts, in which they were finally aided by a commission appointed by the town-council, who were persuaded that statistics of this nature would be valuable. Kendrick lost, and the hospital profited accordingly. “I’m very sorry, Elias, that you did not win,” said Mrs. Kendrick. “Are you? I should not have supposed it possible. All you women are so devoted to Frauenstein.” “If you had lost, you know the hospital would have received twice as much,” said Mrs. Kendrick. “I thought it mighty strange,” said Kendrick, “that you could be on my side against the count. That explains.” During this conversation Mrs. Kendrick asked her husband if he did not believe that the count had put money in the flower firm of Dykes & Delano. “Of course I do. Clara has been rushing things since he left. There has arrived invoice after invoice of foreign trees, which she has set out as thick as reeds in a swamp; and she has a dozen men there at work all the time, beside the women she employs.” “The trees and shrubs, and all the new hot-house plants, are for the grounds and hot-houses over the river, I am told,” said Mrs. Kendrick. “I wonder you don’t go and see them. I never saw anything so fine in my life.” “Oh, I don’t care to. It would only make me more disgusted with this affair of ours, that costs so much, and gives so little satisfaction to anybody.” “Well, you don’t manage it right. You should have somebody who understands it. I wish I could do it myself, or make Louise interested; and she would be, if they were where they could be seen, or if you had a place for them clean enough to wear a decent dress into, or wide enough to pass through without knocking down the pots. I’m sure I can’t bear to go into it. I’d rather have a little twelve-foot conservatory opening from my drawing-room than all your hot-houses, even if they did produce five bunches of grapes with only seventy-five tons of coal! That little room opening out of Clara’s dining-room is perfectly lovely—one mass of color and perfume; and then the oiled floor is so clean, and the place so roomy! Why, you can sit there with the largest arm-chair!”