Businesswomen -- Fiction; Feminist fiction; Women -- Employment -- Fiction; Women household employees -- Fiction
Outside there were tennis-courts, badminton, roque, even croquet; and
the wide roof was a garden of Babylon, a Court of the Stars, with views
of purple mountains, fair, wide valley and far-flashing rim of sea.
Around it, each in its own hedged garden, nestled “Las Casas”--the
Houses--twenty in number, with winding shaded paths, groups of rare
trees, a wilderness of flowers, between and about them. In one corner
was a playground for children--a wall around this, that they might
shout in freedom; and the nursery thereby gave every provision for the
happiness and safety of the little ones.
The people poured along the winding walls, entered the pretty cottages,
were much impressed by a little flock of well-floored tents in another
corner, but came back with Ohs! and Ahs! of delight to the large
building in the Avenue.
Diantha went all over the place, inch by inch, her eyes widening with
admiration; Mr. and Mrs. Porne and Mrs. Weatherstone with her. She
enjoyed the serene, well-planned beauty of the whole; approved heartily
of the cottages, each one a little different, each charming in its
quiet privacy, admired the plentiful arrangements for pleasure and gay
association; but her professional soul blazed with enthusiasm over the
great kitchens, clean as a hospital, glittering in glass and copper and
cool tiling, with the swift, sure electric stove.
The fuel all went into a small, solidly built power house, and came out
in light and heat and force for the whole square.
Diantha sighed in absolute appreciation.
“Fine, isn't it?” said Mr. Porne.
“How do you like the architecture?” asked Mrs. Porne.
“What do you think of my investment?” said Mrs. Weatherstone. Diantha
stopped in her tracks and looked from one to the other of them.
“Fact. I control the stock--I'm president of the Hotel del las Casas
Company. Our friends here have stock in it, too, and more that you don't
know. We think it's going to be a paying concern. But if you can make
it go, my dear, as I think you will, you can buy us all out and own the
whole outfit!”
It took some time to explain all this, but the facts were visible
enough.
“Nothing remarkable at all,” said Mrs. Weatherstone. “Here's Astor with
three big hotels on his hands--why shouldn't I have one to play with?
And I've got to employ _somebody_ to manage it!”
*****
Within a year of her marriage Diantha was at the head of this pleasing
Centre of Housekeeping. She kept the hotel itself so that it was a joy
to all its patrons; she kept the little houses homes of pure delight for
those who were so fortunate as to hold them; and she kept up her “c.
f. d.” business till it grew so large she had to have quite a fleet of
delivery wagons.
Orchardina basked and prospered; its citizens found their homes happier
and less expensive than ever before, and its citizenesses began to wake
up and to do things worth while.
*****
Two years, and there was a small Ross Warden born.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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