Businesswomen -- Fiction; Feminist fiction; Women -- Employment -- Fiction; Women household employees -- Fiction
It was a light gasolene motor wagon, the body built like those
old-fashioned moving wagons which were also used for excursions, wherein
the floor of the vehicle was rather narrow, and set low, and the seats
ran lengthwise, widening out over the wheels; only here the wheels were
lower, and in the space under the seats ran a row of lockers opening
outside. Mrs. Weatherstone smiled triumphantly.
“Now, Diantha Bell,” she said, “here's something you haven't thought
of, I do believe! This estimable vehicle will carry thirty people inside
easily,” and she showed them how each side held twelve, and turn-up
seats accommodated six more; “and outside,”--she showed the lengthwise
picture--“it carries twenty-four containers. If you want to send all
your twenty-five at once, one can go here by the driver.
“Now then. This is not an obligation, Miss Bell, it is another valuable
investment. I'm having more made. I expect to have use for them in a
good many places. This cost pretty near $3,000, and you get it at the
same good interest, for $300 a year. What's more, if you are smart
enough--and I don't doubt you are,--you can buy the whole thing on
installments, same as you mean to with your furniture.”
Diantha was dumb, but her mother wasn't. She thanked Mrs. Weatherstone
with a hearty appreciation of her opportune help, but no less of her
excellent investment.
“Don't be a goose, Diantha,” she said. “You will set up your
food business in first class style, and I think you can carry it
successfully. But Mrs. Weatherstone's right; she's got a new investment
here that'll pay her better than most others--and be a growing thing I
do believe.”
And still Diantha found it difficult to express her feelings. She had
lived under a good deal of strain for many months now, and this sudden
opening out of her plans was a heavenly help indeed.
Mrs. Weatherstone went around the table and sat by her. “Child,” said
she, “you don't begin to realize what you've done for me--and for
Isobel--and for ever so many in this town, and all over the world. And
besides, don't you think anybody else can see your dream? We can't _do_
it as you can, but we can see what it's going to mean,--and we'll help
if we can. You wouldn't grudge us that, would you?”
As a result of all this the cooked food delivery service was opened at
once.
“It is true that the tourists are gone, mostly,” said Mrs. Weatherstone,
as she urged it, “but you see there are ever so many residents who have
more trouble with servants in summer than they do in winter, and hate to
have a fire in the house, too.”
So Diantha's circulars had an addition, forthwith.
These were distributed among the Orchardinians, setting their tongues
wagging anew, as a fresh breeze stirs the eaves of the forest.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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