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 and the School for Housemaids!" exclaimed Mr. Larry. "May I have the honor of escorting you as far as the Hudson Terminal?"

"Indeed, you may!" answered Teresa Moore, the audacious. "And you may help the Cause by paying our fares—all of 'em."

"Delighted!" answered Mr. Larry, falling into step. "Especially as I expect these investigations to make a millionaire of me some day."

"You may laugh, but I firmly believe that in cooperation, or, at least, the cooperative store, lies our one sure hope of reducing the cost of living. It works two ways—it actually cuts down the price of foodstuffs, and it teaches the woman thrift through investment in stock. You know this has really been proved."

"No! Where?"

"In England. The International Cooperative Alliance was originally founded to reduce the cost of living for the underpaid working classes. From a sociological and economic experiment, it has grown to be the soundest and most democratic organization of its kind in the world, numbering among its shareholders men and women from all walks of society. Before


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 the war broke out, families to the number of two million seven hundred and one thousand were buying their food, clothing and homes through the Alliance. It employed more than eighty-one thousand persons, ran a dozen factories to supply its different stores, and it had its own fleet of steamships for transporting the output of its various plants, which included plantations in Brazil and Ceylon. It sold more than half a billion's worth of goods annually on a margin of two per cent. And in 1913 it distributed among its stockholders of cooperative members profits amounting to eleven million dollars. Think of the war breaking down an economic structure of such magnificent possibilities."

"Perhaps it will survive even war. But I don't know what you mean by its stockholders buying homes through a cooperative store."

"Oh, that is quite simple," explained the enthusiastic Teresa. "A member or stockholder decided that he wished to use his interest or profits to buy a home. When the next dividend was declared, he did not draw out his money. When his dividends had accumulated in the

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 association treasury to the amount of one-fifth of the purchase price on the home he desired to own, the association advanced the remaining four-fifths, so that he could pay cash for his home. The association was repaid by future dividends. In other words, he could buy a home through the association without loading himself with the usual mortgage and its high rate of interest. The association was safe because it knew dividends would be forthcoming, and that once a man or woman is started on the path of thrift it amounts to an obsession to save and to possess."

Mrs. Moore stopped to open her bag and assure herself by means of a wee mirror against its gray lining that her hat was at the correct angle. Mr. Larry studied her in frank amusement.

"Teresa, you are a singular combination of the frivolous and the practical. Can you leave your mirror long enough to tell me how they have managed to keep this English association free from graft?"

"Through the high ideals of the men who founded and conducted it. The association has


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 never deteriorated from its original design of saving through honest cooperation into any scheme whereby the mass of stockholders would save only a mere trifle, while the executive officers built up private fortunes through trickery, watered stock, et cetera."

"And you believe that men with the same high ideals can be interested in such a project here in America?" inquired Mr. Larry.

"Finding the right men and women to act as directors is not the problem," answered Mrs. Moore soberly. "The trouble is to convince individual stockholders, especially housekeepers, that cooperation eventually spells saving—a lower cost of living. It may be the fault of our bringing up, but we women seek economy in only one of two ways—an actual and considerable reduction in the price of goods sold, or the money we put in the savings bank. We lack the economic vision of the man, which sees money invested, paying a profit six months or a year ahead. The feminine instinct for chasing so-called bargain sales blinds her to the bigger and safer saving which cooperation represents. Here in America cooperation is


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 a form of fanaticism, not of every-day common sense."

They were all sitting together on the elevated train, and Claire remarked crisply:

"Then you consider that men have higher ideals than women?"

"No," said Mrs. Moore; "but in financial matters they have a broader vision. For example, a number of Boston men who had studied the plans and ideals of the English association started a cooperative society under the name of The Palmer Cooperative Association. It was designed especially to help the employees of the New York, New Haven and Hartford Road and its allied branches, to reduce the cost of living. About two thousand of the railroad men subscribed to the stock, but they were very slow about paying up. The men believed in it, but their wives did not patronize the store. This was largely because all the business was done on a cash basis. There was no sending Johnny or Jennie around to have something 'charged.' Goods were delivered only when bought in large quantities, and on certain days.


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 "The women did not figure that in the average retail store delivery adds eight per cent. to the cost of goods. Then the wives of the subscribers seemed to think that they should get goods at cost, because their husbands held stock. The manager of the store, an experienced buyer, saved them from fifty to seventy-five cents on a five-dollar order. The profits of the store were to go back to the stockholders in the form of dividends. The women, and some of the men, could not grasp the idea of future saving, of dividend paying. They felt that they were saving very little by paying cash; they were annoyed by having to make out orders for large quantities, when they had been accustomed to send round to the corner grocery three or four times a day. And so the association died.

"When you figure that those allied roads employ sixty thousand men, each of whom would spend a minimum of four hundred dollars a year in a cooperative store, you find that such an association would do a business of twenty-four million ($24,000,000) dollars a year. At least three per cent. would go back to the men


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 in the form of a dividend, amounting in all to seven hundred and twenty million dollars. Then, allowing an average saving of five per cent. on goods purchased, you find that the store could have saved its stockholders one million, two hundred thousand dollars at the time of purchase, plus seven hundred and twenty thousand dollars in dividends, or one million, nine hundred and twenty thousand dollars in a single year. This shows you what one group of industrial workers, cooperating in the purchase of food alone, could save themselves. The beauty of this system is that the more you spend the more you save—"

Mr. Larry rose, laughing.

"It's a good thing that this is my station, otherwise you might inspire me to resign my position and start a cooperative store. Well, a pleasant day to all of you, and more knowledge on the subject."

The four investigators nodded gaily to their vanishing escort and then settled down to the discussion.

"So you think the average housekeeper would rather chase the rainbow of special sales than


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 the more solid investment represented by a cooperative association?" asked Mrs. Larry.

"Not when they have grasped the true idea of cooperative buying," responded Mrs. Moore. "Boston now has a very successful association known as the New England Cooperative Society, which uses the Rochdale System in operating its stores. Its headquarters are at 7 Water Street, and it operates the following stores in that city: Charles River Cooperative Market, South Boston Cooperative Market, Tremont Cooperative Market, Devonshire Cooperative Market, Charlesbank Cooperative Market.

"I understand that markets of the same sort will soon be opened in Allston and Melrose. Bucksport, Maine, also has a market under the direction of this society. You remember that night at our house when you met Mrs. Gregory of Boston? She told us that she belonged to a marketing club in which the women took turns in marketing for the entire organization. This saved money, but it was quite a tax on the individual members. She did not know there was a cooperative store in Boston until


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 she heard it discussed at our house. When she returned home she bought a ten-dollar share in the New England Cooperative Society, resigned from her club and now does all her buying at the Charles River Market. Only one share in a local society may be held by any one person. Those who wish to invest more than ten dollars may do so by purchasing what are known as preferred shares in the New England Cooperative Society. These shares have a par value of ten dollars and draw dividends at the rate of seven per cent. Shareholders, you see, not only draw dividends, but they receive discounts, given at stated periods, in proportion to the amount of cash purchases by members.

"The New England Cooperative Society, incorporated under Massachusetts laws, is required by those laws to maintain a certain reserve, but all net profits of the stores above this reserve are distributed in discounts and dividends."

"My dear Teresa, you talk like a man," sighed Mrs. Larry. "Can't you put that into woman-talk?"


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 Teresa Moore patted her friend's hand in a comforting way.

"I'll try. The cooperative society secures as managers for its stores men who know how to buy for markets which have earned from fifteen to twenty-five per cent. net on the capital invested. Now, if you own shares in that association, you get your share of the profits. Do you see that?"

Mrs. Larry nodded.

"You also buy your groceries at the lowest possible price for desirable goods. Instead of buying 'seconds' in groceries, and inferior meats and fresh vegetables, fruits, etc., at slightly cut rates, you pay a fair market price for the best the market affords, and at some future date you get part of what you have paid out, in the form of discounts and dividends. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly," said Mrs. Larry. "Then it must also follow that if a store is not properly run, there will be no discount and no dividend."

"That is quite true," said Mrs. Moore; "but the history of cooperative societies in America


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 proves that there are more failures from lack of cooperation than from bad management. As soon as shareholders grasp the idea and really cooperate, the store is a success; but, as I said before, one must believe and understand cooperation to realize the benefits which will eventually accrue from membership. It is what you might call a waiting game."

"Are there many such associations in the United States—in the West, for instance?" inquired Claire. Then she flushed furiously.

"I really have no idea how many," answered Mrs. Moore tactfully, ignoring the blush. "But occasionally a guest tells me of a new society formed in her community. For instance, Polly Sutton, of Washington, was visiting me only last week and told me of the Civil Service Cooperators, Incorporated, which has a very nice new store in her neighborhood."

Mrs. Moore opened her address book.

"Yes, here it is—located at 1948 New Hampshire Avenue, N. W., in a very fine residence district. This society had a very peculiar start. In the Forestry Service, a small group of men wanted to purchase a superior brand of butter


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 made in Minnesota. To secure it they had to order in large quantities, and they were amazed at the large saving eventually made. They had been banded together for the avowed purpose of increasing their efficiency, protecting and promoting common interests, cultivating harmony and good fellowship, and maintaining high ideals in connection with public service. Their success with purchasing butter in quantities showed them the practical possibilities of the phrase 'promoting common interests.' Gradually the social and civic betterment projects were abandoned, and the club devoted itself to buying household supplies.

"After a year the members decided to incorporate, with a capitalization of three thousand dollars. The shares are the smallest of any cooperative enterprise I have heard about. They are of two kinds. There are five hundred shares of common or voting stock, at one dollar each. No member may hold more than one share of common stock, and every member must take one. Preferred stock costs five dollars a share, and each member is expected to hold at least one share. By a very helpful arrange-


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 ment the entire five dollars does not have to be paid at once. If one dollar is paid in toward a share of preferred stock, the remainder may be accumulated through dividends, though on stock not fully paid up only half the declared rate is allowed. Preferred stock gives no voting privilege, but it receives a regular six per cent. interest each year out of the profits.

"The society soon outgrew its original quarters, which were in a basement near the heart of the business section, and it began to look around for a new location. This was chosen by actually comparing the size of the orders received from shareholders in different parts of the city, with the map of the city itself. About this time, Mr. J. P. Farnham, an expert accountant, who had been auditing the association books, became imbued with the cooperative idea and was made manager of the store. He believes that cooperative business solves the bulk of our high cost of living problem, and he has developed many good ideas. He has tried out the parcel-post plan of shipment and secured direct dealings with farmers. The


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 store is simply fitted, but immaculately clean, and the white-washed cellar, dry and sweet smelling, is a joy to the women who get a peep into it.

"Every Saturday morning each member receives a printed order blank on which are listed the two hundred and sixty odd items carried in stock for the coming week, with the current prices. A printed news letter usually accompanies the order sheet, giving notes of the business, frank explanations of changes in price, news of directors' meetings, and serving generally to keep the members in touch with one another.

"While telephone ordering and personal calls at the store are permissible, more housekeepers prefer the mail order system, as the fact has been well established that the quality of the goods never varies, and that full weight may be depended upon. By Tuesday morning these order sheets must be received at the store, accompanied by check or money order for the amount indicated. This business is not only on a cash basis. It actually requires its pay in


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 advance. But as it can proudly point out that it has never lost a dollar in bad debts, the shareholders do not object.

"Polly sent me one of the price lists or order sheets, and on comparing it with what I pay at my own corner grocery, I find the Washington cooperator saves not less than two per cent. on her purchases at the time of the purchase; in some lines of goods it runs as high as ten per cent. but the real saving comes in the form of dividends.

"And with the Civil Service Cooperators, Incorporated, as with all societies of this sort, the woman must figure ahead in order to save. She must have money on deposit at the store or send check or cash with her order; she must order in quantities practically for the week, and she must be satisfied with a weekly or semi-weekly delivery. This plan absolutely breaks a woman of the expensive habit of sending maid or child to the nearest grocery store where she can have goods charged and delivered at any hour of the day. I presume we will find the same conditions at Montclair."


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 "Dear me," sighed Mrs. Larry, "cooperative stores present a very complicated problem."

"Indeed, they do," admitted Mrs. Moore. "All economic questions are more or less complicated, and it's a great pity that we women are rarely educated to see financial administration in our homes as anything deeper than what we pay for actual groceries, meat, vegetables, etc., at the actual time of purchase."

"You must not expect Dahlgren equipment and decorations in this cooperative store," suggested Mrs. Moore as she led the way through the crisp sunlight down Montclair's well-kept streets to 517 Bloomfield Avenue. "Dahlgren adds the cost of mirrors and white marble to your cuts of meat, while a cooperative store is run without frills, at the least possible expense."

Thus prepared for simplicity, if not down-right unattractiveness, in the cause of economy, the New York quartet almost gasped on entering the store of the Montclair Cooperative Society. If there was an absence of glittering mirrors and obsequious clerks in


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 white caps and aprons, there was no lack of up-to-date equipment and methods. Efficiency and success shone in every corner of the plant, consisting of the three-story and basement brick business block with a forty-foot front.

"In a material way this plant is one of the things we have to show for our three years' existence," explained Mr. Leroy Dyal, the manager of the store. "And when a cooperative society has weathered its first three years, it may feel comparatively safe.

"The store is owned by over four hundred residents of Montclair, and run in their interests by a board of directors as follows: President, Emerson P. Hains; vice-president, Mrs. Alfred W. Diller; secretary, Miss Florence Hains; treasurer, Henry Wheaton; directors, Ralph T. Crane, W. W. Ames, H. B. Van Cleve, Edgar Bates, George French, Mrs. William Ropes. You will note that we have women on our board of directors and they are extremely interested and active.

"All business is cash, or the members may, if they wish, make a deposit and draw on that. Once a week I make a budget of prices, and


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the cook, about whose honesty Tony had had her doubts, was busy in the dining-room.

“Ask Madame Grünlich to come down,” ordered the Consul. “Get yourself ready, my child,” he said as Tony appeared. He went with her into the salon. “Get ready as soon as possible, and get Erica ready too. We are going to the city. We shall sleep to-night in a hotel and travel home to-morrow.”

“Yes, Papa,” Tony said. Her face was red; she was distracted and bewildered. She made unnecessary and hurried motions about her waist, as if not knowing where to begin and not grasping the actuality of the occasion.

“What shall I take. Papa?” she asked distractedly. “Everything? All our clothes? One trunk or two? Is Grünlich really bankrupt? Oh, my God! But can I take my jewelry, then? Papa, the servants must leave—I cannot pay them. Grünlich was to have given me housekeeping money to-day or to-morrow.”

“Never mind, my child; things will all be arranged here. Just take what is necessary in a small trunk. They can send your own things after you. Hurry, do you hear?”

Just then the portières were parted and Herr Grünlich came into the salon. With quick steps, his arms outstretched, his head on one side, with the bearing of a man who says: “Here I am; kill me if you will,” he hurried to his wife and sank down on his knees right in front of her. His appearance was pitiable. His golden whiskers were dishevelled, his coat crumpled, his neck-cloth askew, his collar open; little drops stood upon his forehead. RV 230 (230)


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 on comparing them with the prices in other stores of the same class I find that they run about four per cent. lower. In addition to this, while we will deliver goods, we allow a discount of five per cent. to members who carry goods home. Therefore, the housekeeper who markets here and acts as her own delivery man, using her motor, carriage or trolley, or even the family market basket, and walking, saves at the time of purchase about nine per cent. In addition to this, as a shareholder, she is paid her share of the profits on the business we do. Of this I will speak later.

"We do everything we can to popularize this store, not only with the stockholders, but with the general public. You see, we have both a dry and green grocery department, a meat and a fish department. On Saturdays we have a special sale, known as the 'no rebate and no delivery sale,' which runs from five to ten This is so popular as a matter of economy with Montclair people that we have great crowds during those hours, many customers arriving at four-thirty and waiting the half hour till specials are on sale. This gives us a chance


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 to sell off all vegetables and other perishable foodstuffs that otherwise must be carried over the week-end. I mention it merely to show you that a cooperative store is not necessarily high-brow, as some women think. We try to follow all modern business methods—but we permit no substitution, adulteration, nor any other of the evils of so-called modern merchandising.

"To explain the theory on which our store and society are run, I will say that the requirements for this, as for all cooperative ventures, are an adequate organization of consumers to act in their own behalf, and a first-class plant. Our aim is not merely to transfer to the pockets of our shareholders the small net profits made by other storekeepers, but so to manage the journey of food products from source to kitchen as to cut out certain evils from which the housewife suffers—the cost of duplicate or wasted motion, and the adulteration and unsanitary conditions which surround the handling of products. We eliminate many of the cost items of ordinary retail trade in competition, and we protect the society from loss by doing only a cash trade.


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 "Our shares have a par value of ten dollars. Members may own one share or more. The stock is non-assessable when fully paid, and the subscriptions may be paid in cash or at the rate of two dollars per share down, and the balance at the rate of one dollar per share monthly. All sales are recorded on double sales slips. One is kept by the shareholder and one by the society.

"After effecting an organization and proving the honesty and sincerity of our members in supporting the venture, the next step was a plant which would insure the most efficient handling of the trade.

"Of vital importance is to provide a proper medium for keeping fresh foods, such as meat, vegetables, fruit, etc. This means an abundance of dry cold air, in place of the ice supply with its unhealthy dampness and general unreliability.

"For this purpose we have installed in our basement a Brunswick refrigerating machine, which produces an amount of cold air equal to the melting of six tons of ice daily. This cold air is piped through ammonia cooling pipes


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 which run through our glass counters, wall cases and the regular refrigerators. This system of cold air protection saves enormous waste in handling the stock. We also have driven our own well one hundred and twenty-seven feet deep, which is capable of furnishing thirty gallons of pure water per minute.

"Our plant follows in principle and construction the superb modern public markets of Providence, Rhode Island, and Worcester, Massachusetts. It keeps the stock sanitary and enables us to regulate temperature in different refrigerators to meet the requirements of different sorts of food.

"All the foods sold in our delicatessen department are prepared in our model kitchens on the floor above."

The New Yorkers were shown through these kitchens, where colored women, immaculately dressed, were preparing delicious salads. They studied the method by which running water in the fish department positively eliminated all odor. They were especially impressed by the freshness and crispness of the vegetables and


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 the high standard of dry groceries on the shelves.

"The best of everything," murmured Mrs. Larry, "and at exactly what saving?"

The manager smiled at her earnest query.

"That can not be expressed in round figures. It varies. As I said before, I think our prices average about four per cent. below those of the competitive stores, largely because they must spend money to attract trade which we hold through our membership. The housewife who takes home her goods saves an additional five per cent. The member who attends our Saturday evening sales saves a little more. And, finally, stockholders get back money in these two ways:

"First, regular interest on their investment of not more than six per cent.; second, gains or profits which the store has made, redistributed every quarter at the rate of five per cent. on the amount of purchases recorded on duplicate sales slips."

"Then it is a success, your store and your society?" asked Mrs. Norton. "And the women believe in it and support it?"


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 "They certainly do. They have the true cooperative spirit."

"And what of your cooperative kitchen and your housemaids' school, and"

"Those? Oh, they are another story! The cooperative kitchen is managed by a different society, and the school for housemaids by the Housewives' League."

"Shall we see them?" inquired Mrs. Moore, as the quartet walked down the sun-bright street.

"Yes, let us make a day of it in this remarkable community with its cooperative spirit, even if, as Mr. Dyal says, it is another story."


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RS. LARRY, her chin cupped in her slim competent hand, gazed at the toe of her bronze slipper. A smile played round her lips and brightened her eyes.

Mr. Larry, leaning back in his favorite chair, studied her with the satisfaction of a man who has found matrimony a success, and is eager to blazon the fact to all the world.

"Well,—and what of to-day's adventure in thrift?" he asked.

"Oh, Larry, it ended in such a mess!" she answered, leaning forward, her hands clasped about her knees. "The day started with a perfectly wonderful trip through the Montclair Cooperative Store. Then, because we did not realize that we had taken in about all the information we could absorb at one time, we went


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 chasing off to see a cooperative kitchen and training school for housemaids—"

She stopped abruptly, and resumed her study of the beaded bronze slipper.

"And then," prompted Mr. Larry in exactly the tone which he knew would bring a response.

"Oh, Larry, I'm afraid I'm a little silly," she sighed. "I can't rise to the heights of cooperation and the good of the greatest number and all that sort of thing. Moreover, if I keep on investigating the attempts of my own sex to solve the high cost of living problem, I shall develop into an out and out anti-suffragist. If we women can not solve the economic problems in our own pantries and kitchens, what right have we to meddle with state and national economics?"

Mr. Larry flung back his head and laughed with delight.

"My dear girl," he announced consolingly, "if every man who has shown himself incompetent to direct the finances of his family and his business were deprived of the ballot, the voting list in this city would be cut down about


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 three-fourths. But how does this bear on your trip to Montclair?"

"Oh, in lots of ways," replied Mrs. Larry firmly. "Now about the kitchen. You see, dear, there is so much waste for families like ours, who buy in small quantities. And there is waste in service when each family keeps a maid in a small apartment like this. That's why Teresa Moore said we really ought to see the Montclair Cooperative Kitchen.

"Now suppose she and I had adjoining apartments. Suppose we had one maid between us instead of two, and that the marketing was done simultaneously for both families in larger quantities, and the cooking and serving were done in either her apartment or mine for both families, see?"

Mr. Larry looked alarmed.

"I see, but I don't care for it. I like Teresa—in small doses—but I do not relish the idea of eating my meals with her three hundred and sixty-five days in the year. A man chooses the woman who's to sit opposite him at table because he loves her, not for economic reasons. If this is what your investigations are leading


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 to, we'll quit here and now. Of course, I don't want to interfere with your friendship with Teresa, but—"

"Larry, Larry," chortled his wife, "do run down a minute or two and let me explain. I was only leading up to the Montclair experience by presenting a hypothetical case, as the lawyers do—"

"Oh, if it's only that—" said the mollified Mr. Larry, setting down once more to listen.

"And anyhow," pursued his wife, "you wouldn't have to sit opposite anybody but me. We'd have a table of our own, one for each family."

"Like a high-class boarding house, I suppose, with near-silk candle-shades and a bargain counter fern dish in near-silver—"

"But you don't have to go to the cooperative kitchen if you don't want to; you can have your meals sent piping hot by paying a little more, and even a trim maid to serve the dinner for you," finished Mrs. Larry in triumph.

"Fine! And if you wanted a second helping of mashed potatoes, I suppose the trim little maid would trip down three blocks and bring


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 it back on the run. Great on a rainy night. And suppose that I didn't like onions in my turkey stuffing, but Teresa's husband did, who would win?"

Mrs. Larry shook her head at him.

"That's why cooperative kitchens fail. You men will have the kind of bread your mother used to bake—"

"No, the kind of pie my wife makes, lemon with meringue this high. Do you think there's a cooperative kitchen on earth that can bake a pie like yours?"

"But you can't save a lot of money and have just what you want to eat, Larry, dear."

"All right, then we'll save a little less. Digestion is an important factor in efficiency." He said this with a twinkle in his eye, and then turned sober. "You see, my dear, several years before I married you, I yielded to the importunities of a chap who went in for this sort of thing. He dragged me out to live in a cooperative home established by Upton Sinclair in Jersey. Halcyon Hall they called it. My word, such a site, on top of a mountain with the world at your feet! And then such rules


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 of organization, with the running of the plant neatly divided between us!

"One woman tended all the babies, another did all the cooking. She was a dietitian with a diploma, but she was no cook. To save steps, the food was run in from the kitchen to the dining-room on a sort of miniature railway. Sometimes it stuck, and then everybody with a mechanical turn of mind rushed from the table to pry it loose. Of course, by the time you got your soup or gravy it was cold, but, never mind, the railroad was in working order again, and nobody would have to walk from kitchen to dining-room!"

"Larry! You are hopeless!"

"So was this plan. I dropped my board money and ran for my life—literally, because the man whose specialty was engineering let something go amiss with the furnace in his charge, and the whole place burned to the ground one frosty night. Several of the 'colonists' were severely injured; one claims that she has never fully recovered her health. But, of course, such troubles would not overtake a cooperative kitchen. That is a simpler proposition,


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 so go ahead with your story and I promise not to interrupt."

"Well, the enterprise is not quite a year old—it was started by Mrs. H. A. Leonhauser, wife of a retired army officer, who has lived in all sorts of countries and posts and barracks and things, so she knew the economy of cooperative living.

"We found the kitchen conveniently located at Valley Road and Mountainview Place. You never did see such a wonderful equipment of ranges and sinks and tables and cooking utensils outside of a hotel kitchen. There was everything to do with and so much room to do it in. There are times, dear, when an apartment house kitchen does get on one's nerves—it's like going round and round in a squirrel cage.

"Well, everything started out beautifully—"

"This morning?" queried Mr. Larry.

"No, last November, when the kitchen opened. Only the humblest helpers were what you might call servants. Everybody else had degrees and letters after their names. The making of the menus and the balancing of the food


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 values were done by a graduate dietitian. A woman who had made efficiency a study was appointed as general housekeeper and she looked after the preparation of the meals."

"Who cooked them?"

"Why, the dietitian, of course. Then a graduate in domestic science looked after the real economics, figuring costs and specifying what prices should be paid."

"Any of these ladies ever been married or kept house?"

"Now, Larry, that is horrid! You don't have to marry in order to keep house. The idea was so to arrange meals that every one would be satisfied."

"Impossible!"

"By that I mean different menus would be arranged to suit the incomes of different stockholders. Even if you wanted a vegetarian diet, it would be supplied. If you wanted to have your meals in the dining-room attached to the kitchen, there would be a table d'hôte."

Mr. Larry groaned.

"French or Italian?"

"American, of course, and if you didn't want


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RV 231 (BUDDENBROOKS) “Antonie!” he said. “Have you a heart that can feel? Hear me. You see before you a man who will be utterly ruined, if—yes, who will die of grief, if you deny him your love. Here I lie; can you find it in your heart to say to me: ‘I despise you—I am leaving you’?”

Tony wept. It was just the same as that time in the landscape room. Once more she saw his anguished face, his imploring eyes directed upon her; again she saw, and was moved to see, that this pleading, this anguish, were real and unfeigned.

“Get up, Grünlich,” she said, sobbing. “Please, please get up.” She tried to raise his shoulders. “I do not despise you. How can you say such a thing?” Without knowing what else she should say, she turned helplessly to her father. The Consul took her hand, bowed to his son-in-law, and moved with her toward the hall door.

“You are going?” cried Herr Grünlich, springing to his feet.

“I have told you already,” said the Consul, “that I cannot be responsible for leaving my innocent child in misfortune—and I might add that you cannot, either. No, sir, you have misprized the possession of my daughter. You may thank your Creator that the child’s heart is so pure and unsuspicious that she parts from you without repulsion. Farewell.”

But here Herr Grünlich lost his head. He could have borne to hear of a brief parting—of a return and a new life and perhaps the saving of the inheritance. But this was too much for his powers of self-command, his shrewdness and resource. He might have taken the large bronze plaque that stood on the étagère, but he seized instead a thin painted vase with flowers that stood next it, and threw it on the ground so that it smashed into a thousand bits.

“Ha, good, good!” he screamed. “Get along with you! Did you think I’d whine after you, you goose? You are very much mistaken, my darling. I only married you for your RV 231 (231)


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 to come to the kitchen, your dinner was to be sent to your home in a sort of thermos stove. The table d'hôte, price fifty cents, was to include a soup, a roast, a vegetable, a salad, a dessert and coffee. Every day a post-card folder was to be mailed subscribers, with the dishes to be served the next day, all prices marked for à la carte service. The housekeeper selected her menu in the morning, sent it to the kitchen, and then was free to go to town for shopping or a matinée. When she and her husband came home there would be the family dinner, sitting on the back step in its little thermos stove!"

"But did it?"

"Did it what?" asked Mrs. Larry.

"Did it ever sit, waiting on the back step for its subscribers, stockholders or whatever you call them? Did the kitchen ever really live up to the promises of its prospectus? Did you meet any cooperator who has saved time, trouble and money by and through that kitchen? Any one with an imagination can write a prospectus. What were they doing in that kitchen to-day?"

"Well, now that was just the difficult phase


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 of our investigation. They seemed to be reorganizing. A very clever young woman, Miss Helen Siegle, has recently been placed in charge as manager. She was most courteous, but—er—evasive. There was so much to be done, she said—but the prospects of ultimate success were excellent. She did not criticize past management, but somehow you felt that things had not gone just so—you know what I mean."

"Yes, the way we fellows felt at the club last January when we said what a fine year's work the house committee had done, and all the time were pulling wires to get in an entirely new committee to look after things this year."

"Larry, you certainly are a most understanding person. Miss Siegle took us all over the plant, but she did not tell us much about her own plans. She really seemed to have her hands and her mind pretty full."

"I should say so—think of trying to please each and every stockholder, irrespective of different nationalities, digestions and former condition of servitude to mother's cakes and pies! But, to sum it up, you really did not secure any practical suggestions from the kitchen?"


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 "No," admitted Mrs. Larry reluctantly, "we didn't see it in operation. But the idea is wonderful, if you could just get the right person to put it in operation."

"If you found her, one of the bachelor stockholders would promptly marry her, and that would settle it. And so from the kitchen you went to the school for housemaids?"

"No, Larry, we did not. Teresa telephoned one of the ladies interested in the school, and she was getting ready to go to a tea, but said if we would telephone Mrs. Somebody else, she would be delighted—"

"If she didn't happen to have a tea on hand also."

"So then we all suddenly decided that we wanted to come home. Teresa remembered an appointment with her tailor—you know they are going to take the Panama trip, don't you? And Mrs. Norton wanted to fill in her dinner set at a china sale, and I—well, Larry, I had the funniest sinking sensation when I happened to remember that I'd been away from the children almost five hours. And we ran like mad to catch the next train?"


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 "A fine, dignified quartet of investigators, you are! Now, what did you learn as the reward of your trip? Just tell me that!"

"I learned that I'd rather have a real steak from my own broiler than a thermos stove on my back step."

"Good little wife! And as a reward for that sensible answer, you shall read this letter, which may or may not confirm your findings."

Mr. Larry drew a bulky envelope from his pocket, slit it open and tossed the contents in Mrs. Larry's lap.

"You see, my dear, I have an old friend living in Carthage, Missouri, where once a very successful cooperative kitchen flourished. He and his wife were stockholders but dropped out. I asked him to tell me why, and here is the letter in reply."

"No, it's from his wife, and, oh, what pains she has taken! Just listen:

"My Dear Mr. and Mrs. Larry:

"It is so nice to have an excuse to write to one of my husband's old classmates and to his wife. So let us talk together as if you were


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 here in our living-room instead of several thousand miles away.

"If you were to ask any one who was a member of the defunct Carthage Cooperative Kitchen why it failed, he or she would immediately answer, 'Why it never failed!' It was a great success, yet it was discontinued because it was not possible to find enough members to keep the cost of the operative expense within the means of the members who still wished to continue the kitchen.

"Of the fifteen families who joined when it was organized, five families dropped out because they could no longer afford to belong. Two families dropped out because they grew tired of walking such a distance to their meals. One couple left because an invalid mother came to live with them. Another because they wished to set a better table than the kitchen's. This couple frankly said they could afford luxuries, but did not expect the kitchen to furnish them, as the others could not. It was true, and no one minded, especially as this couple were very hospitable. You see, in, no case was it dissatis-


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 faction with the cooperative kitchen management that caused the withdrawal of members.

"If the cost of provisions had remained what it was when the kitchen opened, doubtless the kitchen would have become a permanent institution. But the price of foodstuffs increased so rapidly that the second year found the kitchen facing this question: Shall we cut down our table or increase the price of board? There were some who could not afford to spend more on food. These left and, presumably, at home did without some of the things that some of the kitchen members had considered necessary. No one has ever claimed to live cheaper in his own home and keep a maid.

"When the price of board was increased to three dollars and fifty cents, then to four dollars, per member per week, it was more difficult to get members. In a town like Carthage there are many families that can afford three dollars per member table board. There are fewer that can afford four dollars per member. And it became difficult to find fifteen families living in the same neighborhood who could afford


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RV 232 (BUDDENBROOKS) money; and it was not nearly enough, so you may as well go home. I’m through with you—through—through—through!”

Johann Buddenbrook ushered his daughter silently out. Then he turned, went up to Herr Grünlich, who was standing in the window with his hands behind his back staring out at the rain, touched him softly on the shoulder, and spoke with soft admonishment. “Pull yourself together. Pray!” RV 232 (232)


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 it. In a town that does not have a local street railway one wants to live within a short distance of the house that serves breakfast.

"Besides, as the membership decreased, the expense per member increased, so more families dropped out.

"In order to be successful, a kitchen must be located in a neighborhood where at least twelve families have the same standard of living, the same tastes and are able to spend the same amount on their table. This may be in a very small town or in a city. In a town like Carthage, where the scale runs from a millionaire to a mail carrier in the same block, it is difficult to pick that neighborhood.

"It is interesting to note that not one of the things so freely prophesied contributed to the discontinuance of the kitchen. Never once was there disagreement over menus or payments. Never once was there trouble over children, or complaint of unfairness, or gossip, or fault-finding.

"To-day the members of the Cooperative Kitchen are close friends, and we unite in praising the ability and the tact of the manager!"


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 Mrs. Larry laid down the letter and looked at her husband with dancing eyes.

"And so, you see, after all, this matter of cooperative cooking and living practically resolves itself into the question of lemon meringue pie or—Brown Betty, according to your individual finances. And to-morrow you get Brown Betty, because Lena, having picked up a bargain in apples, has laid in a stock which must be used."

"Lena!" exclaimed the astonished Mr. Larry.

"Yes. Lena, too, is studying short cuts in economy and having little adventures of her own. She has developed a good-sized bump of responsibility since I have been making these trips, and she is alone with the children. She takes great pride in saving pennies. To-day she bought the apples from a huckster at three cents less a quart than we pay at Dahlgren's.

"To insure solid fruit, she insisted upon picking out each apple with her own hands."

Mr. Larry, who had been opening his evening paper, laid it down, turned to his wife and spoke seriously.

"You know, little woman, when I hear your


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 friends roasting their help for carelessness and extravagance, I often wonder where the fault really lies. If the mistress buys supplies in small quantities, or if she is extravagant, how can she expect the maid to fight her bad management with thrift? The girl is far more apt to say, 'Oh, what's the use for me to save what my mistress will waste in the end?'

"I have been watching Lena since you commenced your investigations in thrift, and, in her stolid way, she is tremendously impressed. She attacks her work in a more businesslike fashion, and she certainly regards you with increased respect."

At the last word Mrs. Larry shook her head.

"I'm not so sure about that. Sometimes she questions my marketing abilities. Do you remember the other morning when we were starting for Montclair, she asked, 'What is the use of paying more for rice in package than in bulk if they both have to be washed?

Mr. Larry's eyes twinkled.

"Yes, she had you fussed for a minute."

"And she gave me something to think about


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 “Well, Moni,” she said now very kindly, “you have given me a great pleasure, for if it had not been for you, I might never have seen my cross again. Now, I am going to give you a pleasure. Go take Mäggerli there out of the shed, she belongs to you now!”

Moni stared at the young lady in astonishment, as if it were impossible to understand her words. At last he stammered: “But how—how can Mäggerli be mine?”

“How?” replied Paula, smiling. “See, last evening I bought her from the landlord and this morning I give her to you. Now can’t you sing once more?”

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” exclaimed Moni and ran like mad to the shed, led the little goat out, and took it in his arms. Then he leaped back and held out his hand to Paula and said over and over again:

“I thank you a thousand, thousand times! May God reward you! If I could do something nice for you!”

“Well, then try once more and let us see if you can sing again!” said Paula.

Then Moni sang his song and went on up the mountain with the goats, and his jubilant tones rang down into the valley, so that there was no one in the whole Bath House who did not hear it and many an one turned over in his bed and said:

“The goat-boy has good weather once more.”


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 is the habit of buying package goods economical or extravagant?"

"Why don't you find out? Buy both kinds and see which has the better flavor. Weigh, measure and compare."

"I will," said Mrs. Larry firmly. "I'll start to-morrow morning. And here's an adventure in thrift which Claire must make with me. I'll telephone her this minute."

But she paused with her hand on the receiver—

"I remembered just in time to save five cents. Claire is going to the Bryant dance."

At that very instant the bell rang and Claire came in, a vision in coral tulle.

"How'de, everybody!" She paused, in sudden embarrassment, the color mounting to her softly waved black hair.

Mr. Larry studied her with approving glance.

"Stunning, Claire. Whether it cost fifty dollars or five hundred."

"Less than fifty. Oh, I'm learning," she said with a happy little laugh.

"It was awfully good of you to let me see it


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 before you had danced some of the freshness out of it," said Mrs. Larry.

"Oh, I just had to come. You see" She stopped—and again the beautiful color flooded her face.

"Of course," said Mrs. Larry, as, sensing the need of greater privacy, she slipped her hand through Claire's arm and led her down to the guest room. "But first, let me catch up your hair a bit."

Mr. Larry, all unconscious that the spirit of romance had tripped into the apartment with the coral-tinted vision, buried himself in his paper. Safe on the other side of the guest room door, Mrs. Larry held the radiant girl a little closer.

"Claire, dear, what has come over you?"

"This," answered Claire in a voice that trembled with happiness. She held out her hand, and in the soft light from a silk-shaded electrolier Mrs. Larry caught the gleam of the diamond which had traveled to Kansas City and back.

"Is Jimmy here?" she asked.

"No, no. He sent it with a most wonderful


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 letter. Just a few lines—but—oh! To-morrow's my birthday. He asked me to take this back for a birthday remembrance, because it was impossible for him to think of my hand without it. I was to think of it as his birthday message—and not as binding me to any promise given in the past. Just as if I don't want to be bound!"

She pressed the stone against her lips.

Mrs. Larry laughed a trifle uncertainly.

"A man's way of admitting he was wrong and saying he's sorry."

"But why do you suppose he did it? How did he know that I wouldn't send it straight back to him?"

"Oh, a man will usually take a chance—and he loves you, which is the most important thing, after all," affirmed Mrs. Larry, as she recalled certain letters in the farthest drawer of Aunt Abigail's old secretary. "Do you think you'll be able to do some investigating with me to-morrow? I want to look into the cost of groceries, but, perhaps after the dance, you'll be too tired"

"Tired? I don't think I can ever be tired


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 again. And I'll be here at eight in the morning."

"No, you won't," said Mrs. Larry positively. "I can't be ready that early. Make it nine."

"All right," said Claire, as she drew her wrap over her shoulders. Then she kissed Mrs. Larry good night—and flitted off.


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RS. LARRY and Claire really meant to be on their way to Dorlon's by nine o'clock, but there were various delays. Lisbeth, coquetting in her bath, lured them for ten minutes. Mrs. Larry recalled that she must telephone her dressmaker. Claire remembered an unacknowledged dinner invitation and stopped to dash off a note. It was ten o'clock when their adventure in thrift landed them at Dorlon's high-class grocery store.

Mr. Benton, the suave manager of the store, recognizing Mrs. Larry as a customer in good standing, looked a trifle anxious as he rose at his desk to receive them. What employee had been remiss, he wondered? Or had the cashier made a mistake? For truly the pathway of a store manager is strewn with complaints!


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 Mrs. Larry flung him one of her prettiest smiles and plunged into the subject of their call.

"I don't suppose it's good business to tell your customers how to spend less money, but that is exactly what I have come for," she explained. "I have just wakened to the realization that while I am head of the purchasing department in our home, I know very little about food values. And I want to know more about the goods I buy in your store—how I can buy to best advantage. Would you mind giving me some pointers?"

Mr. Benton was plainly relieved.

"Indeed, I'll be very glad to give you all the information I can. If more women studied how to buy, we would have less complaints about overcharges and high prices. But I am afraid I can't give you much time this morning. Our busy hour is at hand. If you had come in between eight and nine, I could have taken you over the store and shown you how the wheels go round. In ten minutes our rush will set in, and last until one o'clock. Practically all of our customers crowd their marketing into those hours."


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 "How odd!" said Claire.

"I don't think it's odd," said Mrs. Larry. "I suppose every woman does just what we did this morning—stops to tie loose ends in the home, before starting to market."

"More telephone, I imagine," said Claire.

Mr. Benton nodded his head briskly.

"Right there you have struck one fundamental cause of the high cost of living—service! We employ five men to take orders in your home; one man to answer telephone calls, and a dozen delivery men. I am not criticizing the efforts of this firm to give its customers the best and promptest service. I am merely stating the cold facts when I say that order, telephone and delivery service is added to the cost of everything you buy.

"If the women of America would band together for the purpose of ordering efficiently, and thereby reduce the cost of delivery, they would enable grocers to sell at lower prices. Let me make this clear with an illustration:

"Mrs. A. is busy getting the children off to school when the order boy calls at her door. So she tells him to send her a pound of butter, a


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mood reigned for some time at the old house in Meng Street after Madame Grünlich and her little daughter returned thither to take up their abode. The family went about rather subdued and did not speak much about “it,” with the exception of the chief actor in the affair, who, on the contrary, talked about “it” inexhaustibly, and was entirely in her element.

Tony had moved with Erica into the rooms in the second storey which her parents had occupied in the time of the elder Buddenbrooks. She was a little disappointed to find that it did not occur to her Papa to engage a servant for her, and she had rather a pensive half-hour when he gently explained that it would be fitting for her to live a retired life and give up the society of the town: for though, he said, according to human judgments she was an innocent victim of the fate which God had sent to try her, still her position as a divorced wife made a very quiet life advisable, particularly at first. But Tony possessed the gift of adaptability. She could adjust herself with ease and cheerfulness to any situation. She soon grew charmed with her rôle of the injured wife returned to the house of her fathers; wore dark frocks, dressed her ash-blonde hair primly like a young girl’s, and felt richly repaid for her lack of society by the weight she had acquired in the household, the seriousness and dignity of her new position, and above all by the immense pleasure of being able to talk about Herr Grünlich and her marriage and to make general observations about life and destiny, which she did with the utmost gusto.

Not everybody gave her this opportunity, it is true. The

RV 233 (233)


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 package of crackers and a dozen of oranges—whatever she happens to remember in the haste of the moment. She starts to get lunch and finds that there is no vinegar for the salad dressing, no rice for the soup. So she telephones to have these articles delivered 'special.' Her first order is already on the way by our first regular delivery. The 'special' wagon or boy is rushed around with her second order. During the afternoon she makes an apple pie for her husband's dinner, and discovers that the cheese box is empty. So she telephones again, and a second messenger or special wagon is dispatched to her home. Now, no matter how closely we may price butter or rice or cheese, this woman undoes our efforts to give her low prices by her inefficient system of ordering. She has spent ten cents in telephones, and she has made it necessary for us to keep extra help for her special orders.

"Each one of these belated orders is a small item in itself, but when I tell you that some of our customers order groceries from four to six times a day, you will understand what extra service amounts to. And when I add that on


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 busy days, like Saturday or the day before Christmas, we send out anywhere from a thousand to fifteen hundred orders, you will have a better idea of what delivery service costs the housewives of America.

"Housewives could cut down this particular expense, which adds so greatly to the high cost of living, by marketing in a more systematic way. It is the poorest economy to buy in small quantities and at frequent intervals. To reduce your grocery bill, keep tabs on your pantry shelves; keep up your stock of staple groceries, just as a merchant must keep in stock the things you will want to buy. Make it a rule never to order more than once a day, and to avoid extra orders by telephone.

"Don't you think it's rather inconsistent for a woman to complain of the price we charge for eggs, when she deliberately adds five cents to the cost of a dozen by telephoning for them? Of course, in towns where the telephone service is unlimited, this is not such a big item. But unlimited telephone service is becoming less common each year.

"Another important factor in reducing the


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 cost of groceries is explicit ordering. Do not tell the boy to bring you a box of sweet crackers, a package of raisins and a dozen good oranges. Be more definite. Name the brand and the size of the box in ordering crackers. The smaller the box the more you pay for crackers. Make it clear whether you want cooking raisins or table raisins. Stipulate the price per dozen for oranges. The order clerk who reads the slip, 'a package of wafers, a box of raisins and a dozen good oranges,' does not know your income, and doesn't care what it is. He will send you goods that will bring the firm the highest profit. And in this he is entirely justified. There is no reason why he should practise thrift for you.

"If possible, buy your groceries at the store in person. And come as early as you can. There are several good reasons for this advice. In the morning the clerks are fresh and interested in their work. They can help you in the selection of goods. During or after the day's rush they are too driven or tired to give the best service. Then, if you buy in person, you can see the size of the containers, and you will find


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 there is a big saving in buying larger packages. Take the item of olives, for instance: You order by telephone a small bottle of olives. The clerk sends you a bottle selling for thirty cents. In a few days you order another thirty-cent bottle—sixty cents for two bottles of olives. For fifty-five cents you can get one large bottle, containing as much as the two smaller ones. Moreover, if you do not specify that you want queen olives, but leave the order to the discretion of the clerk, he will send you mammouth queen olives at thirty-eight cents, when you could buy the smaller queen olives for thirty cents. There is no difference in flavor, only in size, and as the larger olives can not be packed so closely, you really get less for your money.

"Moreover, if you come to the store, you see articles offered at 'special' prices, legitimate sales, due to the fact that the modern grocer of a chain of stores like the Dorlon stores has opportunities to buy at cut prices for cash. No delivery clerk has time to tell you about the 'specials' offered in the store each morning, and such information is not given over the telephone. But it is announced on placards all over


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 the store, so that you will not miss it if you come in."

Mr. Benton glanced over Mrs. Larry's smartly tailored hat to the front of the store, which was rapidly filling up.

"I'm afraid I've talked too long. Perhaps I have bored you?"

"Not a bit," exclaimed Mrs. Larry. "I feel as if we had only glimpsed the real possibilities of reducing the cost of living by grocery knowledge. I wish our club could hear you talk."

"What sort of a club is it?" inquired Mr. Benton.

"Oh, it's not an organization and it has no name. It's just a few neighbors who are investigating the high cost of living—husbands and wives—we women investigate and our husbands help us to draw conclusions. I am sure the husbands would like to hear you talk. But I suppose you're always busy evenings?"

"Never too busy to be of service to my firm or to my customers."

"Then you will meet with us some evening?" asked Mrs. Larry eagerly.


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 "If you will tell me what you want me to talk about—yes."

"Oh, there is so much we want to know," said; Mrs. Larry. "The comparative cost of package and bulk goods, for instance."

"And adulteration," suggested Claire.

"Substitution is quite as important," added Mr. Benton.

"Oh, will you?" said Mrs. Larry.

"Yes, any night except Thursday. And, if you like, I'll bring a small exhibit with me."

"That will be splendid!" said Mrs. Larry. "Let's make it next Wednesday night. And now, I intend to put some of your policies into practise. I'm going to look up your 'specials.' My goodness gracious!" she added, conscience-stricken, "every word you say is true. I have not been in this store for more than a month."

Mr. Benton smiled and crooked his finger at a passing clerk.

"Show Mrs. Hall our specials for to-day. I think she'll be interested."

Claire and Mrs. Larry followed the clerk from counter to stand.

"This morning we are selling best eggs at


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 thirty-seven cents a dozen. Yesterday you paid forty-one cents a dozen for the same eggs. To-morrow you may pay it again. To-day's drop in price is due to a glutted market. Those eggs are perfectly fresh, and will keep in your refrigerator for a week. Here are hams at nineteen cents a pound, ordinarily sold at twenty-two. This cut is due to the fact that our firm bought a carload direct from the packer. To-day you can buy a basket of sweet potatoes for nineteen cents. To-morrow they may be twenty or twenty-two."

Just at this moment an order boy called out: "Mrs. Blank, one quart of sweets."

"What do they cost a quart?" asked Claire.

"Ten cents," answered the clerk.

"And how much does the basket hold?"

"Five quarts."

Mrs. Larry looked startled.

"Then a customer pays ten cents for one quart, and nineteen cents for five quarts? Think of paying ten cents a quart when I could get them for four cents! I have been buying them by the quart because they don't keep well."

"Keep your sweet potatoes in a cool place and


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 pick them over every day. When they show spots, boil them in their jackets, set them away in the refrigerator, and they will keep indefinitely after they are boiled," advised the clerk.

"We are having a special on certain brands of canned goods to-day—peas, tomatoes, apricots and sliced pineapple. Probably some canner found himself overloaded with certain vegetables and fruits, and our firm took advantage of the fact. If you can use a dozen cans, you will save thirty cents on the dozen, nearly three cents on each can. And you can mix your order in any way you like—three of this, four of that, two of another, etc."

"And you have 'specials' like this every day?" asked Mrs. Larry.

"Yes, sometimes the specials run a week. Others are only for one day."

"I am through with telephoning. Hereafter I shall order my groceries in person," announced Mrs. Larry.

Wednesday evening found the Nortons, the Moores and Claire Pierce waiting in Mrs. Lar-


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RV 234 (BUDDENBROOKS) Frau Consul was convinced that her husband had acted correctly and out of a sense of duty; but when Tony began to talk, she would put up her lovely white hand and say: “Assez, my child; I do not like to hear about it.”

Clara, now twelve years old, understood nothing, and Cousin Clothilde was just as stupid. “Oh, Tony!”—that was all she could say, with drawling astonishment. But the young wife found an attentive listener in Mamsell Jungmann, who was now thirty-five years old and could boast of having grown grey in the service of the best society. “You don’t need to worry, Tony, my child,” she would say. “You are young; you will marry again.” And she devoted herself to the upbringing of little Erica, telling her the same stories, the same memories of her youth, to which the Consul’s children had listened fifteen years before; and, in particular, of that uncle who died of hiccoughs at Marienwerder “because his heart was broken.”

But it was with her father that Tony talked most and longest. She liked to catch him after the noonday meal or in the morning at early breakfast. Their relations had grown closer and warmer; for her feeling had been heretofore one of awe and respect rather than affection, on account of his high position in the town, his piety, his solid, stern ability and industry. During that talk in her own salon he had come humanly near to her, and it had filled her with pride and emotion to be found worthy of that serious and confidential consultation. He, the infallible parent, had put the decision into her hands: he had confessed, almost humbly, to a sense of guilt. Such an idea would never have entered Tony’s head of itself; but since he said it, she believed it, and her feeling for him had thereby grown warmer and tenderer. As for the Consul, he believed himself bound to make up to his daughter for her misfortune by redoubled love and care.

Johann Buddenbrook had himself taken no steps against his untrustworthy son-in-law. Tony and her Mother did hear

RV 234 (234)


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 ry's living-room for Mr. Benton, manager of the Dorlon store. On the reading table, Lena, fairly bristling with importance, was arranging the exhibit which had arrived from the store. This included two brands of canned peaches, cartons of rice, tea, sugar, crackers and flavoring extracts and various packages of irregular shape.

"Looks like a private pure food exhibit," commented Mr. Norton.

Mr. Benton proved an interesting and interested talker.

"Personal investigation and experimentation on the part of the housewife are desired by all conscientious tradespeople. In the case of the Dorlon Company, which operates a chain of thirty stores in Greater New York, the buyers desire to give customers the benefit of every possible price-saving. The managers of the stores are equally desirous of keeping customers posted on price changes and market values, but we can not force customers to take a lively interest in saving money, when they prefer to follow the line of least trouble and least resist-


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 ance. Therefore, I am very glad to give you a few pointers on the subject of buying groceries.

"The principal topics in which housewives are interested are these: package versus bulk goods; cold storage versus fresh goods; adulteration versus substitution; honest and dishonest labels; premiums.

"To those of us who are in the business, the argument against package goods as increasing the cost of living is absurd. Goods must be prepared for delivery, either in the factory or in the store. The factory, with its labor-saving machinery, can do up dry groceries more rapidly and less expensively than our fastest clerks in the store. Perhaps there was a time when the housekeeper paid extra for containers. To-day she can buy certain package goods as reasonably, and sometimes more cheaply, than bulk goods.

"For instance, to-day we are selling three and a half pounds of the best granulated sugar in packages at twenty-four cents a package. Loose, you would pay eight cents a pound, or twenty-eight cents for three and one-half pounds. Ex-


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 actly the same grade of coffee that we sell ground or pulverized in an air-proof package at thirty-three cents a pound would cost you thirty-five cents in bulk from the bin.

"Of course, there are some exceptions to this rule. For instance, I have here a package of rice at twelve cents—and exactly the same rice in the bulk for ten cents a pound. You can save two cents on the pound, if when the bulk rice is delivered in your kitchen you pour it into a container which prevents waste. Rice or any other cereal in a paper sack usually represents waste in the pantry because the sack is torn, and the cereal spills over the shelf.

"Here is a two-pound package of oatmeal at twelve cents. I can sell you the same oatmeal in bulk at five cents a pound. Here is a package of split peas, two pounds for twenty-four cents. The same peas loose sell at ten cents a pound.

"In such cases the superiority of the package goods depends entirely upon the way your servant handles the package. If she opens it carelessly, destroys the pasteboard top, or, in case of bottle goods like pickles, relishes, etc., she


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 throws away the cork, then they lose the flavor or the goods become dusty, precisely as if you bought them in bulk.

"Train your servants to understand that containers are designed to keep out dust and to protect the flavor of the goods.

"Now for the crackers. Here are two cartons of soda crackers, moisture proof, sold at five cents each. And here is ten cents' worth of the same soda crackers in bulk. We will now count the actual crackers in the carton and in the sack."

Mr. Benton's interested circle drew closer.

The moisture-proof cartons yielded up forty-eight whole fresh, crisp crackers. When the bulk crackers were turned carefully into a large plate, it was found practically impossible to count them. More than a third had been broken in carriage, and there was a heavy sprinkling of cracker dust. Nor were the bulk crackers crisp or fresh in flavor. In graham crackers the difference was more pronounced. A ten-cent, moisture-proof package contained thirty unbroken crackers. A pound of bulk graham crackers, at nine cents, yielded twenty-three


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 whole crackers and two broken ones. The difference in the flavor was marked.

"Understand," said Mr. Benton, "that the cartons or package crackers will not retain their flavor unless the housekeeper insists upon their being opened properly and kept tightly covered. For this reason the small tins of crackers are in the end most economical.

"Now for cold storage versus fresh goods. Meats, butter, eggs, fruits, etc., which were in A-1 condition when placed in cold storage are wholesome. But they should be used promptly after being taken out of storage. Housekeepers waste money when they pay the price of fresh goods for cold storage products. Last week absolutely fresh certified eggs were selling at seventy-two cents a dozen. Cold storage eggs should have sold at retail for thirty-four cents. I stepped into a rival grocery store on my way to business and found that a clerk had picked over the cold storage eggs and arranged all the large white ones attractively in a basket. These were marked, 'Special fresh eggs, 50 cents a dozen,' At the other end of the counter was a crate of brown eggs, with the placard, 'Cold


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 storage eggs, 33 cents a dozen.' There was absolutely no difference between these two lots of eggs, except the coloring. No grocer could sell fresh eggs at fifty cents a dozen. This man did not have a certified egg in his store, and the customer who paid fifty cents a dozen for the white eggs wasted seventeen cents.

"Don't pay the price of fresh goods for cold storage products. Every grocer who sells cold storage products must hang in his store a placard to that effect, and if he misrepresents cold storage products as fresh, he can be prosecuted. Train him to tell you the truth.

"Adulteration is, to-day, less of a menace to the housewife than substitution. I will consider adulteration later, in connection with honest and dishonest labels.

"These two cans of peaches represent the dangers of substitution. You see, they are the same size, with equally attractive labels. This can, 'California Fruits,' sells for twenty-three cents. The other can, 'Table Fruits,' sells at seventeen cents. The difference lies in the flavor and richness of the sirup. The twenty-three-cent can has a heavy sirup and the fruit


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 tastes a little like the preserves your mother used to make. The seventeen-cent can has a lighter sirup, and the fruit tastes more like fresh fruit stewed instead of preserved. The fruit was in equally good condition when canned. The difference is in the size of the peaches and the amount of sugar used only. The housekeeper gets exactly the same nutritive value for seventeen cents that she does for twenty-three cents—the difference is in the flavor.

"The cheaper peaches belong in the class of canned goods commonly known to housekeepers as 'seconds,' They are sold by unscrupulous grocers as A-1 goods, 'specially reduced,' And when a can of fruit which ought to sell for seventeen cents is 'specially priced' at twenty, the housekeeper wastes three cents. The same is true of canned vegetables, pickles, preserves, meats, soups, puddings, etc.

"When you ask for a standard brand of goods, and the dealer tells you he is out of that brand, but can give you something just as good—make sure that it is just as good. Test its weight, if it is package goods, or its flavor. If


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 you have several similar experiences with the same man, regard him with suspicion. He is not carrying standard goods.

"Now for the vexed question of labels. Under the Pure Food and Drug Act, a manufacturer must set forth certain facts on his label, the percentage of preservatives and coloring matter employed, etc. A certain percentage of preservative is not harmful, and certain coloring materials are not injurious. Authorities differ as to the exact amounts, but I would advise no housewife to purchase highly colored preserves, condiments, relishes, pickles, etc., without studying the label carefully.

"A high-grade ketchup, for instance, carries this label: 'Tomato ketchup, preserved with one-tenth of one per cent. of benzoate of soda.'

"The housewife who buys this gets her money's worth.

"Here is a tricky label:

Made from portions of Tomato and Apple. Contains one-tenth of one per cent. benzoate of


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 soda, one-hundredth per cent. color, and one-hundredth per cent. saccharine.'

"Note that it is called 'Ketchup,' not 'Tomato Ketchup,' The portions of tomato and apples used are the very refuse of the canning factory; skins, cores, rotten portions and trimmings, unfit for human consumption. Add to this sin, the manufacturer does not supply a single balancing pure and nutritious substance in his product. For sugar he substitutes saccharine. He colors the unwholesome mixture with a coal-tar preparation, and winds up by preserving it with benzoate of soda. This label tells the whole truth, and it should condemn his product in the eyes of every housewife—who takes time to read the label.

"Study your labels on potted meats, flavoring extracts, canned vegetables and cheese boxes. Don't pay the same price for cheese when the label reads 'Camembert Type' as you would pay for genuine imported Camembert. If you buy sausage in the package, look out for the phrase, 'prepared with cereal' or 'Cereal, five per cent.' The maker who introduces a starchy or cereal


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 factor increases the water-holding capacity of the meat. The housekeeper who buys sausage of this sort at the price of pure meat sausage loses money in water and cereal.

"The difference between high-grade and low-grade flavoring extracts is not in the size of the bottle, but in the quality or flavor. In order to flavor her custard or icing, a housewife must use twice as much adulterated extract as pure.

"I would advise every housekeeper who buys goods in bulk to possess a pair of reliable scales. Weigh your bulk goods. If you use three and a half pounds of sugar a week, and a careless clerk gives you only three and a quarter or less, in fifty-two weeks you have been cheated out of thirteen pounds of sugar. Buy your apples, potatoes, etc., by weight. We weigh every basket of potatoes that leaves our store. They must run sixty pounds to the basket in medium-sized potatoes, like I have here. A basket is supposed to hold four pecks. The grocer on the block where I live fills his baskets with large potatoes and gives in actual quantity only three pecks to the basket.

"Finally, the question of premiums. In mod-


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 ern business methods we merchants never give something for nothing. If you receive premiums for buying a certain quantity of groceries, you must pay in the weight or the quality of the groceries. In a certain chain of stores in this city they sell what they call 'Our Own Blend' coffee, which they advertise as pure Mocha and Java. It is sold at thirty-four cents a pound, with a cup and saucer for a premium. Have this coffee analyzed, and you will find that instead of pure Mocha and Java, the blend consists of Mocha, Java and Rio coffee, with chicory, which can be sold at a profit for twenty-five cents. Instead of getting the cup and saucer for nothing, the housekeeper is paying nine cents for them. Now understand, some housekeepers prefer Rio coffee at eighteen or twenty cents a pound, to Mocha and Java at thirty-four. The question at issue is not the flavor of the coffee, but the fact that every housekeeper must pay in some way for the premium 'presented' to her.

"I would advise all housekeepers to read the market reports of foodstuffs. Through these reports they can learn when the market is glut-


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 ted with certain articles, like tomatoes, melons, apples, or oranges, when the price of potatoes is up and the price of eggs is down. As soon as a grocer discovers that a customer reads the market reports he will know better than to attempt any sharp practise in his dealings with her."

As Mr. Benton sat down, the other men glanced at one another significantly.

"This," said Mr. Moore, "is what I call an evening spent to good advantage."

And the three housekeepers, to say nothing of Miss Housekeeper-to-be, agreed enthusiastically, and beamed on Mr. Benton.


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RS. MARTIN'S magenta dress stood out like a beauty-patch on a sallow complexion," commented Mrs. Larry, threading a fresh needle with embroidery silk.

"A woman of her coloring and eyes should wear gray-greens and dull blues," replied Claire, as she picked up the wee sacque which Mrs. Larry was embroidering for Lisbeth.

"A-hem!" interrupted Mr. Larry, lowering his evening paper to study with amused eyes the two pretty women seated on the other side of the living-room table. "In real estate notes, there is a paragraph to the effect that rents in Kansas City have advanced ten per cent."

Claire tossed the bit of French flannel back into Mrs. Larry's lap.

"Wh-what's that? Ten per cent.? Goodness gracious"


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RV 235 (BUDDENBROOKS) from him, in the course of conversation, what dishonourable means Grünlich had used to get hold of the eighty thousand marks; but the Consul was careful to give the matter no publicity. He did not even consider going to the courts with it. He felt wounded in his pride as a merchant, and he wrestled silently with the disgrace of having been so thoroughly taken in.

But he pressed the divorce suit energetically as soon as the failure of Grünlich came out, which it soon did, thereby causing no inconsiderable losses to certain Hamburg firms. It was this suit, and the thought that she herself was a principal in it, that gave Tony her most delicious and indescribable feelings of importance.

“Father,” she said—for in these conversations she never called him “Papa”—“Father, how is our affair going on? Do you think it will be all right? The paragraph is perfectly clear; I have studied it. ‘Incapacity of the husband to provide for his family’: surely they will say that is quite plain. If there were a son, Grünlich would keep him—”

Another time she said: “I have thought a great deal about the four years of my marriage, Father. That was certainly the reason the man never wanted us to live in the town, which I was so anxious to do. That was the reason he never liked me even to be in the town or go into society. The danger was much greater there than in Eimsbiittel, of my hearing somehow or other how things stood. What a scoundrel!”

“We must not judge, my child,” answered the Consul.

Or, when the divorce was finally pronounced: “Have you entered it in the family papers, Father? No? Then I’d better do it. Please give me the key to the secretary.” With bustling pride she wrote, beneath the lines she had set there four years ago under her name: “This marriage was dissolved by law in February, 1850.” Then she put away the pen and reflected a minute.

“Father,” she said, “I understand very well that this affair is a blot on our family history. I have thought about it a

RV 235 (235)


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 "If they try it in New York, we'll simply have to move—we're paying every cent for rent that we can spare—this minute."

"Who said anything about apartment-house rents?" demanded Mr. Larry. "This is an article on lofts and warehouses."

"Brute!" cried Mrs. Larry, glancing at Claire, who flushed furiously.

"I hope that gave you great satisfaction, Larry Hall," she said severely, even as she flung him a dazzling smile.

"Well, it accomplished its purpose—it checked an impending avalanche of colors, materials and hats. When two women begin to talk clothes, a man must use drastic measures, or silently steal away. Now, of course, if you like, I'll"

He half rose from his easy chair and fairly challenged Mrs. Larry with his glance.

"Indeed, you shan't go! We'll talk about anything that suits the tired business man, or start the Victrola, or go to see moving pictures"

They laughed together, these three who had come to have so many pleasant hours together. Claire Pierce had fallen into the habit of spend-


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 ing with Mr. and Mrs. Larry most of the evenings when she was free from social engagements. She felt the need of their unspoken sympathy and understanding attitude.

The interests closest to her heart these days found little response in her own home. Mrs. Pierce belonged to a number of advanced organizations, contributed liberally to the cause of suffrage and prated much of individual rights. But in matters matrimonial she still believed that a daughter should bow to the maternal will and be practical. She considered marriage between Claire and Jimmy Graves a direct defiance of her wishes, and altogether impractical.

She had been more relieved than sympathetic when Claire and Jimmy had quarreled. And when the small inconspicuous solitaire had reappeared on Claire's finger and letters from Kansas City arrived with their old-time regularity, she was tolerant, but not congratulatory. Mrs. Pierce's idea of the proverbial cottage in which love should thrive among roses, was a Colonial mansion on a Long Island estate, reached by a high-powered motor-car.

In the house of Larry, Claire found not only


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 the sympathy she needed in her lover's absence, but help in her absorbing task of studies in household economics. Somehow, too, the contentment in her friends' simply appointed home made her own way seem easier. One could be happy on a small income, if she made the most of little joys.

So it happened that when the evening mail brought a postcard depicting vegetables printed in brilliant hues, Claire was quite as interested as her two friends.

"Looks like an advertisement for southern California real estate," suggested Mr. Larry.

Mrs. Larry held up the card for all to see, as she read the message:

"Home hampers delivered at your door, like this, for one dollar and fifty cents."

"Direct communication between producer and consumer," commented Mr. Larry, as he took a closer look at the card.

"What do you mean by that?" inquired Claire.

"Simply what so many economists are discussing to-day—the elimination of middlemen with their commissions, and direct dealing between the farmer and the housewife. This


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 probably comes from a group or organization of farmers on Long Island."

"I wonder why Teresa Moore never told us about it," said Mrs. Larry.

"Perhaps because she does not know about it," suggested Claire dryly.

The two women exchanged significant glances which were lost on Mr. Larry. His wife rose briskly.

"I think I'll ask her over the phone. We have no particular adventure in thrift planned just now. And it does sound so nice and fresh and inviting—'Home Hampers.

She returned from the telephone, wearing the expression commonly attributed to the cat that has just consumed a canary.

"Think—for the first time since we started these adventures in thrift, I have been able to give Teresa Moore a tip. I do feel that puffed up."

She seated herself on the arm of her husband's chair and laid the picture postal on the table.

"And I heard you ask in the most casual way: 'Teresa, do you think it would pay us to inves-


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 tigate the Long Island Home Hamper?' just as if you had known about it for five months instead of five minutes," commented Mr. Larry, pinching his wife's cheek.

"You really can't blame her," said Claire. "Teresa is so horribly wise; and she has made us feel so inferior!"

"Not that she meant to," added kindly Mrs. Larry, "but I have had to follow her lead so long—and I—well, I did enjoy handing her a bit of information."

"No doubt," laughed Mr. Larry, drawing her close. "And now that you have unearthed the Long Island Hamper, what do you propose to do with it?"

"Find out what it is worth."

"My dear, you certainly are gaining in directness."

"Oh, Larry, what an inviting collection of fresh green things! Do you suppose it could taste half as good as it looks? See—those are really, truly new potatoes that show pink through their skins."

"Looks as if the hose had been turned on them."


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ITH many children was the Patriarch blet,

Yet Joeph he preferr'd before the ret:

To tend his flock was all the youth's employ;

To erve his God and Sire his only joy:

Jacob of his lov'd confort now depriv'd,

Beheld her graces in the on reviv'd;

And all the love he had to Rachel gone,

Was by degrees transferr'd unto her on.

A ilken vet, that cat a various hade,

He fondly to the boy a preent made:

Here vivid carlet trove with lively green,

The purple, blended with the white, was een,

And azure pots were interpers'd between.

This gaudy robe (the bais of his woe,

The ource from which his future orrows flow)

Kindled his elder brethren's wakeful pride:

(When envy mounts, affection will ubide)

Their dawning hate in vain to hide they trove,

Each look too plain confes'd expiring love.


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 "And corn, lima beans, summer squash"

"What is the thing that looks like cabbage gone to seed?"

"Kohl-rabi, silly! And cucumbers, onions, cabbage and beets. I couldn't buy them at Dahlgren's for less than three dollars. Yet this postcard says we can have such a hamper delivered at our door every week for one dollar and fifty cents. I think I will order one. Address Medford Demonstration Farm, Medford, Long Island."

She reached for her pen, but her husband stretched out a detaining hand.

"Why not run down to the farm and learn all about it—in the interest of economy?"

"Because it would not be economical. It costs money to ride one hundred miles on the Long Island railroad."

"I wasn't thinking of a railway trip. We might go by motor. Burrows, our company lawyer, left for San Francisco Tuesday, and he told me that if I would like to use his car some Sunday or week-end, to telephone his chauffeur, who'd probably be joy-riding, if I didn't."


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 "Oh, Larry, a real motor! Just as if it was our own?"

Claire felt a little pang of regret as she studied Mrs. Larry's radiant face. How much this friend had done for her, yet she could not place the family car at her disposal. It was rarely used for such unselfish purposes, but must be always at the command of her mother and sisters for calls, shopping and the briefest errands. She suddenly realized that Mrs. Larry was addressing her personally.

"Think of it, Claire—a whole perfect day in the country, with everything coming out of the soft brown earth to find the sunlight. It may not mean so much to you, for all your friends have machines. But you'll go with us—because the trip may prove profitable. And I'll take the babies, and, yes, Lena—she has been so faithful, and—is it a seven-passenger car, Larry?"

"It is, but it won't hold the entire block."

"No-o—only Teresa Moore."

"Teresa goes. This is your party!"

So it happened that the next Sunday morning Mrs. Larry, with eyes shining, carried her "thrift party" off on the most delightful excur-


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 sion so far undertaken. Even the Burrows' chauffeur relaxed at sight of her happiness and enthusiasm, and forgave the early start, for at eight-thirty they were spinning over Queensboro Bridge. Behind them lay the city, for the most part asleep, as New York generally is after its Saturday night gaieties.

"We early birds will have the famous Merrick Road practically to ourselves," said Mr. Larry, as they swept through Astoria. On they went, now through little towns, now past stately homes, now between rolling truck farms, green with corn, gray-blue with cabbage, spattered with the scarlet of tomatoes. It seemed as if all Long Island was yielding a bountiful store of fresh things, enough to feed three cities like New York.

"And yet," sighed Teresa Moore, "we pay absurdly high prices for vegetables, which, though raised within an hour's motor run of our doors, reach us withered and pithy."

"Well, we'll know why very soon," said Mrs. Larry. Then she turned to her husband. "Who did you say owns this farm?"

"The Long Island Railroad. The president of


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 the road, Mr. Ralph Peters, found on investigation that his road ran through territory which was without value, as the average American sees it—without lumber, without coal or minerals, without any great water power, without any opportunities for developing industrial plants of any sort. Half of this territory, lying within fifty or sixty miles of New York City, was a howling wilderness, selling at three or possibly six dollars an acre, and no one buying it.

"In 1905 he decided that the one hope of this part of Long Island lay in agricultural development. In the offices of his railroad was a man named H. B. Fullerton, who was in charge of the general advertising, taking photographs, issuing booklets of scenery, and so on. Such work had taken Mr. Fullerton practically all over the railroad's territory. Also, Mr. Fullerton had traveled all over America, and he said that the Long Island land showed the same undergrowth as he had seen in Cuba, New Mexico and sections of South America, where vegetables grow luxuriantly. He believed that Long Island could grow beans, asparagus, peas, po-


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 tatoes, cauliflower and other vegetables, instead of loblolly pines. The upshot of this discussion was that the Long Island Railroad Company bought ten acres of scrub oak waste, practically considered the worst land in middle Long Island, with the avowed intention of providing the fresh food for which New York City had been starving, from the countryman's point of view.

"In September, 1905, Fullerton and his hands dynamited out the first scrub oak stump. The next year they raised three hundred and eighty-one varieties of food on the poorest land of Long Island."

"And that is the man we are to meet?" asked Claire.

"Yes, together with his wife and daughters."

Just beyond the Medford railway station the motor road cut its clean way through the arbor leading from the railroad to the farmhouse of the Demonstration Farm. Three concrete steps afforded the only "station" for railway passengers. The framework of the arbor was hidden by grape-vines and banked on either side by masses of garden flowers.


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 Beyond the farmhouse, a two-story, wide-porched bungalow, lay the barns and outbuildings and the cottages of the farm hands.

Mr. and Mrs. Fullerton, who had been advised of Mrs. Larry's adventures in thrift, were more than hospitable, and after a tour of the grounds, they explained to their interested visitors many phases of merchandising in foodstuffs which are a mystery to the average city dweller.

"Our experience as farmers started about fifteen years ago. I had been a sailor and was a rolling stone," explained Mr. Fullerton. "My wife was born and raised in the heart of Brooklyn. We moved to the country because we thought the country was the best place to raise our children. We started a garden because we had so much trouble buying fresh food. What little was raised on the farms around us was shipped to New York, then brought back to our little town of Hollis, and sold to us at city prices by our village merchants.

"We bought a two-acre place at Huntington, thirty-five miles from Brooklyn, and we raised all of our own vegetables, because we preferred


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 fresh vegetables to stale ones. The potatoes we raised cost us seventeen cents a bushel, when our neighbors were paying the village grocer from one dollar and fifty cents to two dollars a bushel. Corn that cost us from eight to ten cents a dozen ears in our garden cost our neighbors thirty cents in the stores. Our two acres, worked almost entirely by my wife and an occasional helper, with what assistance I could give outside my office hours, cut down our cost of living more than half. Any family in a small town can do the same, but the city housekeeper is up against a different proposition, and we found that out when we took hold of this demonstration farm.

"We were here for a definite purpose—to prove that Long Island men could raise garden stuff to market in Greater New York, and that men who bought Long Island land could run truck farms at a good profit. The first part of the proposition was easy enough. The first year we raised more than three hundred varieties of vegetables, herbs and fruits.

"The second half of the proposition was not so easily solved. When we shipped out produce


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 to the New York commission merchants, we soon found that the returns were less than the cost of the boxes in which it was shipped.

"As an example, we received six or eight cents a bushel for tomatoes, the very best ripe tomatoes. The box in which we shipped them cost us fourteen cents; then came express and freight. Of course, the Long Island Railroad, which was employing us, would have franked all our produce, but that was not what Mr. Peters wanted. He wanted us to find out exactly how a farmer would handle his produce, so we paid the charges and had a record of what everything cost.

"We faced this situation: With the best of tomatoes to sell, we could show no profit on them; instead, our books would show a loss. What were we to do? We did the natural thing, we went to New York to see why. At the end of three days we knew the truth.

"That three-day investigation proved to us that the commission men of New York had the Standard Oil Company and the Meat Trust beaten a thousand miles. We were all paying tribute to them, big farmers and little, grocers and


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 All were glad to hear him sing again, for all had depended on the merry alarm, some in order to get up, others to sleep a while longer.

When Moni, from the first summit, saw Paula still standing below in front of the house, he stepped as far out as possible and sang down at the top of his voice:

The whole day long Moni shouted for joy, and all the goats caught his spirit and jumped and sprang around as if it were a great festival. The sun shone cheerfully down out of the blue sky, and after the great rain, all the little plants were so fresh, and the yellow and red flowers so bright, it seemed to Moni as if he had never seen the mountains and the valley and the whole world so beautiful before. He didn’t let the little kid leave him the whole day; he pulled up the best plants for it and fed it, and said over and over again:

“Mäggerli, you dear Mäggerli, you do not have to die. You are now mine and will come up to the pasture with me as long as we live.” And with resounding singing and yodeling Moni came down again at evening and after he had led the black goat to her shed, he took the little kid in his arms, for it was now coming home with him. Mäggerli