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,” put in Mr. Porne. “O yes, she never presumes. But I mean the capable way she manages--I don't have to tell her one thing, nor to oversee, nor criticize. I spoke of it and she said, 'If I didn't understand the business I should have no right to undertake it.” “That's a new point of view, isn't it?” asked her husband. “Don't they usually make you teach them their trade and charge for the privilege?” “Yes, of course they do. But then she does have her disadvantages--as you said.” “Does she? What are they?” “Why she's so--rigid. I'll read you her--I don't know what to call it. She's written out a definite proposition as to her staying with us, and I want you to study it, it's the queerest thing I ever saw.”