Mr. Thaddler went home disappointed in the real object of his call—he had hoped to see the Dangerous Experiment again. But his wife was well pleased.
“They will rue it!” she announced. “Madam Weatherstone is ashamed of her daughter-in-law—I can see that! She looks cool enough. I don't know what's got into her!”
“Some of that young woman's good cooking,” her husband suggested.
“That young woman is not there as cook!” she replied tartly. “What she is there for we shall see later! Mark my words!”
Mr. Thaddler chuckled softly. “I'll mark 'em!” he said.
Diantha had her hands full. Needless to say her sudden entrance was resented by the corps of servants accustomed to the old regime. She had the keys; she explored, studied, inventoried, examined the accounts, worked out careful tables and estimates. “I wish Mother were here!” she said to herself. “She's a regular genius for accounts. I can do it—but it's no joke.”
She brought the results to her employer at the end of the week. “This is tentative,” she said, “and I've allowed margins because I'm new to a business of this size. But here's what this house ought to cost you—at the outside, and here's what it does cost you now.”
Mrs. Weatherstone was impressed. “Aren't you a little—spectacular?” she suggested.
Diantha went over it carefully; the number of rooms, the number of servants, the hours of labor, the amount of food and other supplies required.
“This is only preparatory, of course,” she said. “I'll have to check it off each month. If I may do the ordering and keep all the accounts I can show you exactly in a month, or two at most.”