“There! And she showed me dinner and lunch the same way. I had no idea food, just the material, cost so little. It's the labor, she says that makes it cost even in the cheapest restaurant.” “I see,” said Mr. Porne. “And in the case of the domestic servant we furnish the materials and she furnishes the labor. She cooks her own food and waits on herself--naturally it wouldn't come high. What does she make it?” 'Food, average per day.............$0.35 Room, $1.50 per w'k, ave. per day.....22 ----- .57 Total, per month... $17.10 $1.50 per day, per month... $45.00 “'Remaining payable in cash, $28.00.' Do I still live! But my dear Ellie, that's only what an ordinary first-class cook charges, out here, without all this fuss!” “I know it, Ned, but you know we think it's awful, and we're always telling about their getting their board and lodging clear--as if we gave'em that out of the goodness of our hearts!” “Exactly, my dear. And this amazing and arithmetical young woman makes us feel as if we were giving her wampum instead of money--mere primitive barter of ancient days in return for her twentieth century services! How does she do her work--that's the main question.” “I never saw anyone do it better, or quicker, or easier. That is, I thought it was easy till she brought me this paper. Just read about her work, and you'll feel as if we ought to pay her all your salary.” Mr. Porne read: “Labor performed, average ten hours a day, as follows: Preparation of food materials, care of fires, cooking, table service, and cleaning of dishes, utensils, towels, stove, etc., per meal--breakfast two hours, dinner three hours, supper or lunch one hour--six hours per day for food service. Daily chamber work and dusting, etc., one and one-half hours per day. Weekly cleaning for house of nine rooms, with halls, stairs, closets, porches, steps, walks, etc., sweeping, dusting, washing windows, mopping, scouring, etc., averaging two hours per day. Door service, waiting on tradesmen, and extras one-half hour per day. Total ten hours per day.” “That sounds well. Does it take that much time every day?” “Yes, indeed! It would take me twenty!” she answered. “You know the week I was here alone I never did half she does. Of course I had Baby, but then I didn't do the things. I guess when it doesn't take so long they just don't do what ought to be done. For she is quick, awfully quick about her work. And she's thorough. I suppose it ought to be done that way--but I never had one before.” “She keeps mighty fresh and bright-looking after these herculean labors.” “Yes, but then she rests! Her ten hours are from six-thirty a.m., when she goes into the kitchen as regularly as a cuckoo clock, to eight-thirty p.m. when she is all through and her kitchen looks like a--well it's as clean and orderly as if no one was ever in it.” “Ten hours--that's fourteen.”