Several centuries of guinea-pig time went by; generation after generation of healthy guinea-pigs passed under his modifying hands; and after some five years he had in one small yard a fine group of the descendants of his gall-fed pair, and in another the offspring of the trained ones; nimble, swift, as different from the first as the razor-backed pig of the forest from the fatted porkers in the sty. He set them to race--the young untrained specimens of these distant cousins--and the hare ran away from the tortoise completely. Great zoologists and biologists came to see him, studied, fingered, poked, and examined the records; argued and disbelieved--and saw them run. “It is natural selection,” they said. “It profited them to run.” “Not at all,” said he. “They were fed and cared for alike, with no gain from running.” “It was artificial selection,” they said. “You picked out the speediest for your training.” “Not at all,” said he. “I took always any healthy pair from the trained parents and from the untrained ones--quite late in life, you understand, as guinea-pigs go.” Anyhow, there were the pigs; and he took little specialized piglets scarce weaned, and pitted them against piglets of the untrained lot--and they outran them in a race for “Mama.” Wherefore Mr. Ross Warden found himself famous of a sudden; and all over the scientific world the Wiesmanian controversy raged anew. He was invited to deliver a lecture before some most learned societies abroad, and in several important centers at home, and went, rejoicing. Diantha was glad for him from the bottom of her heart, and proud of him through and through. She thoroughly appreciated his sturdy opposition to such a weight of authority; his long patience, his careful, steady work. She was left in full swing with her big business, busy and successful, honored and liked by all the town--practically--and quite independent of the small fraction which still disapproved. Some people always will. She was happy, too, in her babies--very happy. The Hotel del las Casas was a triumph. Diantha owned it now, and Mrs. Weatherstone built others, in other places, at a large profit. Mrs. Warden went to live with Cora in the town. Cora had more time to entertain her--as she was the one who profited by her sister-in-law's general services. Diantha sat in friendly talk with Mrs. Weatherstone one quiet day, and admitted that she had no cause for complaint. “And yet--?” said her friend. Young Mrs. Warden smiled. “There's no keeping anything from you, is there? Yes--you're right. I'm not quite satisfied. I suppose I ought not to care--but you see, I love him so! I want him to _approve_ of me!--not just put up with it, and bear it! I want him to _feel_ with me--to care. It is awful to know that all this big life of mine is just a mistake to him--that he condemns it in his heart.” “But you knew this from the beginning, my dear, didn't you?”