“I'm not good. I'm most eagerly and selfishly interested. I've taken a new lease of life since knowing you, Diantha Bell! You see my father was a business man, and his father before him--I _like it._ There I was, with lots of money, and not an interest in life! Now?--why, there's no end to this thing, Diantha! It's one of the biggest businesses on earth--if not _the_ biggest!” “Yes--I know,” the girl answered. “But its slow work. I feel the weight of it more than I expected. There's every reason to succeed, but there's the combined sentiment of the whole world to lift--it's as heavy as lead.” “Heavy! Of course it's heavy! The more fun to lift it! You'll do it, Diantha, I know you will, with that steady, relentless push of yours. But the cooked food is going to be your biggest power, and you must let me start it right. Now you listen to me, and make Mrs. Thaddler eat her words!” Mrs. Thaddler's words would have proved rather poisonous, if eaten. She grew more antagonistic as the year advanced. Every fault that could be found in the undertaking she pounced upon and enlarged; every doubt that could be cast upon it she heavily piled up; and her opposition grew more rancorous as Mr. Thaddler enlarged in her hearing upon the excellence of Diantha's lunches and the wonders of her management. “She's picked a bunch o' winners in those girls of hers,” he declared to his friends. “They set out in the morning looking like a flock of sweet peas--in their pinks and whites and greens and vi'lets,--and do more work in an hour than the average slavey can do in three, I'm told.” It was a pretty sight to see those girls start out. They had a sort of uniform, as far as a neat gingham dress went, with elbow sleeves, white ruffled, and a Dutch collar; a sort of cross between a nurses dress and that of “La Chocolataire;” but colors were left to taste. Each carried her apron and a cap that covered the hair while cooking and sweeping; but nothing that suggested the black and white livery of the regulation servant. “This is a new stage of labor,” their leader reminded them. “You are not servants--you are employees. You wear a cap as an English carpenter does--or a French cook,--and an apron because your work needs it. It is not a ruffled label,--it's a business necessity. And each one of us must do our best to make this new kind of work valued and respected.”