lways dog-tired."

"That's all right, dear, there's no very great rush. You can get at it
now, can't you--with this other Belle to the fore?"

"She's not Belle, bless you--she's 'Miss Bell.' It's her last name."

Mrs. Weatherstone smiled her faint smile. "Well--why not? Like a
seamstress, I suppose."

"Exactly." That's what she said. "If this labor was as important as that
of seamstress or governess why not the same courtesy--Oh she's a most
superior _and_ opinionated young person, I can see that."

"I like her looks," admitted Mrs. Weatherstone, "but can't we look over
those plans again; there's something I wanted to suggest." And they went
up to the big room on the third floor.

In her shop and at her work Isabel Porne was a different woman. She
was eager and yet calm; full of ideas and ideals, yet with a practical
knowledge of details that made her houses dear to the souls of women.

She pointed out in the new drawings the practical advantages of kitchen
and pantry; the simple but thorough ventilation, the deep closets, till
her friend fairly laughed at her. "And you say you're not domestic!"

"I'm a domestic architect, if you like," said Isabel; "but not a
domestic servant.--I'll remember what you say about those windows--it's
a good idea," and she made a careful note of Mrs. Weatherstone's
suggestion.

That lady pushed the plans away from her, and went to the many cushioned
lounge in the wide west window, where she sat so long silent that Isabel
followed at last and took her hand.

"Did you love him so much?" she asked softly.

"Who?" was the surprising answer.

"Why--Mr. Weatherstone," said Mrs. Porne.

"No--not very much. But he was something."

Isabel was puzzled. "I knew you so well in school," she said, "and
that gay year in Paris. You were always a dear, submissive quiet little
thing--but not like this. What's happened Viva?"

"Nothing that anybody can help," said her friend. "Nothing that matters.
What does matter, anyway? Fuss and fuss and fuss. Dress and entertain.
Travel till you're tired, and rest till you're crazy! Then--when a real
thing happens--there's all this!" and she lifted her black draperies
disdainfully. "And mourning notepaper and cards and servant's
livery--and all the things you mustn't do!"

Isabel put an arm around her. "Don't mind, dear--you'll get over
this--you are young enough yet--the world is full of things to do!"

But Mrs. Weatherstone only smiled her faint smi