Jane continued. “And don’t you think it’s better, Miss Lant, for everybody to feel satisfied?”
“But really, Mr. Batterby used to speak so very harshly. He destroyed their self-respect.”
“I don’t think they minded it,” said Jane, with simple good faith. “And I’m always hearing them wish he was back, instead of the new managers.”
“I think we shall have to consider this,” remarked the lady, thoughtfully.
Considered it was, and with the result that the Batterbys before long found themselves in their old position, uproariously welcomed by Shooter’s Gardens. In a few weeks the soup was once more concocted of familiar ingredients, and customers, as often as they grumbled, had the pleasure of being rebuked in their native tongue.
It was with anything but a cheerful heart that Jane went through this initiation into the philanthropic life. Her brief period of joy and confidence was followed by a return of anxiety, which no resolve could suppress. It was not only that the ideals to which she strove to form herself made no genuine appeal
