The Forerunner Part 136

"Now, mother, you _know_ we're doing well. Look here!" And Diantha produced her note-book.

"Here's the little laundry place; its fittings come to so much, wages so much, collection and delivery so much, supplies so much--and already enough patronage engaged to cover. It will be bigger in winter, a lot, with transients, and this hotel to fall back on; ought to clear at least a thousand a year. The service club don't pay me anything, of course; that is for the girls' benefit; but the food delivery is doing better than I dared hope."

Mrs. Bell knew the figures better than Diantha, even, and they went over them carefully again. If the winter's patronage held on to equal the summer's--and the many transient residents ought to increase it--they would have an average of twenty families a week to provide for--one hundred persons.

The expenses were:

Food for 100 at $250 a week. Per capita. $600 --- per year $13,000

Labor--delivery man. $600 Head cook. $600 Two a.s.sistant cooks. $1,040 Three washers and packers. $1,560 Office girl. $520 --- Per year $4,320

Rent, kitchen, office, etc. $500 Rent of motor. $300 Rent of cases. $250 Gasolene and repairs. $630 --- Per year $1,680

Total. $19,000

"How do you make the gasolene and repairs as much as that?" asked Mrs.

Bell.

"It's margin, mother--makes it even money. It won't be so much, probably."

The income was simple and sufficient. They charged $5.00 a week per capita for three meals, table d'hote, delivered thrice daily. Frequent orders for extra meals really gave them more than they set down, but the hundred-person estimate amounted to $26,000 a year.

"Now, see," said Diantha triumphantly; "subtract all that expense list (and it is a liberal one), and we have $7,000 left. I can buy the car and the cases this year and have $1,600 over! More; because if I do buy them I can leave off some of the interest, and the rent of kitchen and office comes to Union House! Then there's all of the extra orders.

It's going to pay splendidly, mother! It clears $70 a year per person.

Next year it will clear a lot more."

It did not take long to make Mrs. Bell admit that if the business went on as it had been going Diantha would be able to pay her a salary of a thousand dollars, and have five hundred left--from the food business alone.

There remained the hotel, with large possibilities. The present simple furnishings were to be moved over to New Union House, and paid for by the girls in due time. With new paint, paper, and furniture, the old house would make a very comfortable place.

"Of course, it's the restaurant mainly--these big kitchens and the central location are the main thing. The guests will be mostly tourists, I suppose."

Diantha dwelt upon the prospect at some length; and even her cautious mother had to admit that unless there was some setback the year had a prospect of large success.

"How about all this new furnishing?" Mrs. Bell said suddenly. "How do you cover that? Take what you've got ahead now?"

"Yes; there's plenty," said Diantha. "You see, there is all Union House has made, and this summer's profit on the cooked food--it's plenty."

"Then you can't pay for the motor and cases as you planned," her mother insisted.

"No, not unless the hotel and restaurant pays enough to make good. But I don't _have_ to buy them the first year. If I don't, there is $5,500 leeway."

"Yes, you are safe enough; there's over $4,000 in the bank now," Mrs.

Bell admitted. "But, child," she said suddenly, "your father!"

"Yes, I've thought of father," said the girl, "and I mean to ask him to come and live at the hotel. I think he'd like it. He could meet people and talk about his ideas, and I'm sure I'd like to have him."

"They talked much and long about this, till the evening settled about them, till they had their quiet supper, and the girls came home to their noisy one; and late that evening, when all was still again, Diantha came to the dim piazza corner once more and sat there quite alone.

Full of hope, full of courage, sure of her progress--and aching with loneliness.

She sat with her head in her hands, and to her ears came suddenly the sound of a familiar step--a well-known voice--the hands and the lips of her lover.

"Diantha!" He held her close.

"Oh, Ross! Ross! Darling! Is it true? When did you come? Oh, I'm so glad! So _glad_ to see you!"

She was so glad that she had to cry a little on his shoulder, which he seemed to thoroughly enjoy.

"I've good news for you, little girl," he said. "Good news at last!

Listen, dear; don't cry. There's an end in sight. A man has bought out my shop. The incubus is off--I can _live_ now!"

He held his head up in a fine triumph, and she watched him adoringly.

"Did you--was it profitable?" she asked.

"It's all exchange, and some cash to boot. Just think! You know what I've wanted so long--a ranch. A big one that would keep us all, and let me go on with my work. And, dear--I've got it! It's a big fruit ranch, with its own water--think of that! And a vegetable garden, too, and small fruit, and everything. And, what's better, it's all in good running order, with a competent ranchman, and two Chinese who rent the vegetable part. And there are two houses on it--_two_. One for mother and the girls, and one for us!"

Diantha's heart stirred suddenly.

"Where is it, dear?" she whispered.

He laughed joyfully. "It's _here!"_ he said. "About eight miles or so out, up by the mountains; has a little canyon of its own--its own little stream and reservoir. Oh, my darling! My darling!"

They sat in happy silence in the perfumed night. The strong arms were around her, the big shoulder to lean on, the dear voice to call her "little girl."

The year of separation vanished from their thoughts, and the long years of companionship opened bright and glorious before them.

"I came this afternoon," he said at length, "but I saw another man coming. He got here first. I thought--"

"Ross! You didn't! And you've left me to go without you all these hours!"

"He looked so confident when he went away that I was jealous," Ross admitted, "furiously jealous. And then your mother was here, and then those cackling girls. I wanted you--alone."

And then he had her, alone, for other quiet, happy moments. She was so glad of him. Her hold upon his hand, upon his coat, was tight.

"I don't know how I've lived without you," she said softly.

"Nor I," said he. "I haven't lived. It isn't life--without you. Well, dearest, it needn't be much longer. We closed the deal this afternoon.

I came down here to see the place, and--incidentally--to see you!"

More silence.

"I shall turn over the store at once. It won't take long to move and settle; there's enough money over to do that. And the ranch pays, Diantha! It really _pays,_ and will carry us all. How long will it take you to get out of this?"

"Get out of--what?" she faltered.