"I have taken my money out of five and seven per cent investments, and put it into ten per cent ones, that's all.

Shall I never make you realize that I am a richer woman because of you, Diantha Bell Warden! So don't try to be grateful--I won't have it! Your work has _paid_ remember--paid me as well as you; and lots of other folks beside.

You know there are eighteen good imitations of Union House running now, in different cities, and three 'Las Casas!' all succeeding--and the papers are talking about the dangers of a Cooked Food Trust!" They were friends old and tried, and happy in mutual affection.

Diantha had many now, though none quite so dear.

Her parents were contented--her brother and sister doing well--her children throve and grew and found Mama a joy they never had enough of.
Yet still in her heart of hearts she was not wholly happy.
***** Then one night came by the last mail, a thick letter from Ross--thicker than usual.