THE EFFICIENCY STAR--AND BILLY
Billy was not a young woman that did things by halves. Long ago, in the days of her childhood, her Aunt Ella had once said of her: ``If only Billy didn't go into things all over, so; but whether it's measles or mud pies, I always know that she'll be the measliest or the muddiest of any child in town!'' It could not be expected, therefore, that Billy would begin to play her new r<o^>le now with any lack of enthusiasm. But even had she needed any incentive, there was still ever ringing in her ears Bertram's accusing: ``If you'd tend to your husband and your home a little more--'' Billy still declared very emphatically that she had forgiven Bertram; but she knew, in her heart, that she had not forgotten.
Certainly, as the days passed, it could not be said that Billy was not tending to her husband and her home. From morning till night, now, she tended to nothing else. She seldom touched her piano--save to dust it--and she never touched her half-finished song-manuscript, long since banished to the oblivion of the music cabinet. She made no calls except occasional flying visits to the Annex, or to the pretty new home where Marie and Cyril were now delightfully settled. The opera and the Symphony were over for the season, but even had they not been, Billy could not have attended them. She had no time.
Surely she was not doing any ``gallivanting''
now, she told herself sometimes, a little aggrievedly.
There was, indeed, no time. From morning until night Billy was busy, flying from one task to another. Her ambition to have everything just right was equalled only by her dogged determination to ``just show them'' that she could do this thing. At first, of course, hampered as she was by ignorance and inexperience, each task consumed about twice as much time as was necessary.
Yet afterwards, when accustomedness had brought its reward of speed, there was still for Billy no time; for increased knowledge had only opened the way to other paths, untrodden and alluring. Study of cookbooks had led to the study of food values. Billy discovered suddenly that potatoes, beef, onions, oranges, and puddings were something besides vegetables, meat, fruit, and dessert. They possessed attributes known as proteids, fats, and carbohydrates.
Faint memories of long forgotten school days hinted that these terms had been heard before;but never, Billy was sure, had she fully realized what they meant.
It was at this juncture that Billy ran across a book entitled ``Correct Eating for Efficiency.''
She bought it at once, and carried it home in triumph. It proved to be a marvelous book.
Billy had not read two chapters before she began to wonder how the family had managed to live thus far with any sort of success, in the face of their dense ignorance and her own criminal carelessness concerning their daily bill of fare.
At dinner that night Billy told Bertram and William of her discovery, and, with growing excitement, dilated on the wonderful good that it was to bring to them.
``Why, you don't know, you can't imagine what a treasure it is!'' she exclaimed. ``It gives a complete table for the exact balancing of food.''
``For what?'' demanded Bertram, glancing up.
``The exact balancing of food; and this book says that's the biggest problem that modern scientists have to solve.''
``Humph!'' shrugged Bertram. ``Well, you just balance my food to my hunger, and I'll agree not to complain.''
``Oh, but, Bertram, it's serious, really,'' urged Billy, looking genuinely distressed. ``Why, it says that what you eat goes to make up what you are. It makes your vital energies. Your brain power and your body power come from what you eat. Don't you see? If you're going to paint a picture you need something different from what you would if you were going to--to saw wood;and what this book tells is--is what I ought to give you to make you do each one, I should think, from what I've read so far. Now don't you see how important it is? What if I should give you the saw-wood kind of a breakfast when you were just going up-stairs to paint all day? And what if I should give Uncle William a--a soldier's breakfast when all he is going to do is to go down on State Street and sit still all day?''
``But--but, my dear,'' began Uncle William, looking slightly worried, ``there's my eggs that I _always_ have, you know.''
``For heaven's sake, Billy, what _have_ you got hold of now?'' demanded Bertram, with just a touch of irritation.
Billy laughed merrily.
``Well, I suppose I didn't sound very logical,''
she admitted. ``But the book--you just wait.
It's in the kitchen. I'm going to get it.'' And with laughing eagerness she ran from the room.
In a moment she had returned, book in hand.
``Now listen. _This_ is the real thing--not my garbled inaccuracies. `The food which we eat serves three purposes: it builds the body substance, bone, muscle, etc., it produces heat in the body, and it generates vital energy. Nitrogen in different chemical combinations contributes largely to the manufacture of body substances;the fats produce heat; and the starches and sugars go to make the vital energy. The nitrogenous food elements we call proteins; the fats and oils, fats; and the starches and sugars (because of the predominance of carbon), we call carbohydrates. Now in selecting the diet for the day you should take care to choose those foods which give the proteins, fats, and carbohydrates in just the right proportion.' ''
``Oh, Billy!'' groaned Bertram.
``But it's so, Bertram,'' maintained Billy, anxiously. ``And it's every bit here. I don't have to guess at it at all. They even give the quantities of calories of energy required for different sized men. I'm going to measure you both to-morrow; and you must be weighed, too,''
