Constance B.'s Venture
Owing to the stirring events at home, Jean had not set forth that
morning, but the first excitement, incident to the sale of their
belongings over, she prepared to drive out to East Riveredge, with her
box of candies. Mrs. Carruth entertained some misgivings regarding the
wisdom of letting her again pass through McKim's Hollow, but a
compromise was effected by Jean agreeing to take a different road. It
made the trip a trifle longer, but was free from dangers, and Jean set
forth in high feather and bursting with importance.
Having seen her off, Constance flew to her room, and within half an
hour emerged therefrom dressed all in soft brown. Little brown toque,
with a modest brown quill stuck through the folds of the cloth. Brown
kilted skirt and box coat, brown furs and brown gloves. She looked
almost as sedate as a little Quakeress, although her cheeks were rosy
from excitement and her eyes shone.
"Mother, I have a little matter to attend to in South Riveredge. You
won't feel anxious if I am not back before dark will you?" she asked
as she paused at her mother's door, on her way down-stairs.
Mrs. Carruth looked at her a moment before replying and wondered if
the girl had any idea how attractive she was. Then she asked:
"Am I to refrain from making inquiries?"
"Please don't ask a single question, for even if I wanted to answer
them I couldn't," said Constance, as she kissed her mother good-bye.
Half an hour later she was at the Arcade in South Riveredge, asking
the elevator man to direct her to the office of the superintendent of
the building.
"Room 16, fourth floor," directed the man. So to the fourth floor went
Constance. Opening the door of No. 16, she entered, but stood for a
second upon the threshold rather at a loss how to proceed. Seated at a
large rolltop desk was a man wearing a brisk, wide-awake air which
instantly reminded her of her father. Gaining confidence from that
fact, so often are we swayed by trifles, she advanced into the room,
saying: "Good afternoon. Are you the superintendent of the building?"
"I am," answered the gentleman, smiling pleasantly, and rising from
his chair. "What can I do for you, young lady?"
Now that she had actually come to the point of stating her errand,
Constance hardly knew where to begin. The superintendent noticing her
hesitancy said kindly: "Won't you be seated? It is always easier to
talk business when seated, don't you think so?" and placing a chair
near his desk, he motioned her toward it.
Mr. Porter did not often have calls from such youthful business women,
and was somewhat at a loss to understand the meaning of this one.
Constance was not aware that in placing the chair for her he had put
it where the light from the window just back of him would fall full
upon _her_ face.
Taking the chair she looked at him smiling half-doubtfully, and
half-confidently as she said:
"Maybe you will think I am very silly and inexperienced, and I know I
_am_, but I'd like to know whether you have any offices to rent in
this building, and how much you charge for them?"
The big eyes looked very childish as they were turned upon him, and
Mr. Porter could not help showing some surprise at the question. He
had a daughter about this girl's age, and wondered how he would feel
if she were in her place.
"Yes, we have one unoccupied office on the eighth floor, in the rear
of the building. It is divided into two fair-sized rooms and the
rental is four hundred dollars a year."
Constance jumped. "Four hundred a year! Why that is almost as much as
we pay for our _whole_ house! My goodness, isn't that a lot? I had no
idea they cost so much. Dear me, I'm afraid I can never, never do it,"
and her words ended with a doubtful shake of her head.
"Do you object to telling me just what you wish to do and why you need
an office?" asked Mr. Porter kindly. "Perhaps I could offer some
suggestions. Sometimes our tenants like to rent desk room, and if you
needed no more than a desk----why----."
"But I couldn't use a desk for a counter, could I?" hesitated
Constance.
"That depends upon what the counter had to hold. Suppose you tell me.
Then we will see." The deep blue eyes behind the glasses regarded her
very encouragingly.
Constance's eyebrows were raised doubtfully as she replied:
"I'm afraid you will think me very foolish and unsophisticated, and of
course I am, but I just _know_ I can succeed if I once get started
right. Besides I _won't_ give up unless I _have_ to. Other girls do
things and there is no reason _I_ shouldn't. I know my candy is good,
'cause if it wasn't Mammy could not sell it so easily, and--"
"Candy? Are you planning to sell candy? If it's half as good as the
candy an old colored woman sells around here you'll sell all you can
make. I buy some of her every time she comes here, and my girls ask
every day if she has been around with it. It's great candy."
As Mr. Porter talked Constance's cheeks grew rosier and rosier, and
her eyes danced with fun. Of this he speedily became aware, and
looking at her keenly he asked:
"Have you ever eaten any of the old Auntie's candy? Does she make it
herself? I've asked her a dozen times, but I can't get her to commit
herself! She always gets off a queer rigmarole about her 'pa'tner,'"
ended Mr. Porter, smiling as he recalled Mammy's clever fencing with
words.
"Yes, I've eaten it. No, she doesn't make it; she only sells it. _I_
make it," confessed Constance, nervously toying with the ends of her
fur collar.
"You don't say so! Why it's the best candy I've ever tasted. Well,
really! And you think of opening a _stand_?" concluded Mr. Porter, a
little incredulously, for the girl before him did not seem to be one
who would venture upon such an enterprise.
"Well yes, and no. I want to have a place to sell it here in South
Riveredge, but I can't exactly have a counter you see, because I am
still in school the greater part of the day. So I thought up a plan
and--and I want to try it. Would you mind if I told you about it?"
The sweet voice and questioning look with which the words were spoken
would have won the ear of a less interested man than Robert Porter.
More than an hour passed before this plan which had been simmering in
the girl's active brain, was laid before the practical business
man, and he was amazed at what he afterwards pronounced its
"level-headedness."
When the conversation ended, Constance was wiser by many very sane
suggestions made by her listener, and more than ever determined to
carry her plan through.
"Now, young lady, by-the-way, do you mind letting me know your name?
We can talk better business if I do. Mine's Porter."
"I am Constance Carruth," said Constance.
"Carruth? Not Bernard Carruth's daughter?"
"Yes."
"You don't say so! Why I knew your father well, little girl, and
respected him more than any man I've ever known. He was a fine man.
Bernard Carruth's daughter? Well I declare."
Constance's cheeks glowed more than ever. Praise of her father was
sweet to her ears.
"Well, well, Bernard Carruth's daughter," repeated Mr. Porter, as
though he could not quite make it true. "Well, come with me. I've an
idea for this candy selling scheme and we'll see what we can do."
Rising from his chair he led the way to the elevator. Upon reaching
the main floor he walked to the rear of the building where the
stairway was situated.
In the alcove made by the box-stairs stood the public telephone switch
board and two booths. At the right, close under the stairs, was an
empty space too low for the booths, and yet of no use to the operator,
since while she might be able to occupy it when sitting at a desk, she
was very likely to encounter a cracked crown if she rose too quickly
from her chair. All was enclosed with a little wooden railing and well
lighted by the electric lights.
"Now I am wondering if we couldn't rig up a tempting little booth in
this unoccupied space. Good afternoon, Miss Willing. How would you
like to share your quarters with this enterprising young lady? She has
a mighty clever idea in that logical head of hers and I'm going to do
my best to help her make it a success. How about _you_?" he ended,
making a mental contrast between the strikingly handsome, dark-haired,
dark-eyed girl at the telephone booth, whose glances flashed back at
him so boldly, and whose toilet would have been better suited to an
afternoon function than a telephone booth, and the modest,
well-gowned, young girl beside him.
"I guess I won't bother her, and I'm sure she won't bother _me_," was
the reply which proved the speaker's fiber, and caused Constance to
look at her and wonder that any one _could_ be so lacking in
refinement. Little Connie had many things to learn in the business
world into which she was venturing. But the knowledge would do her no
harm. She was well equipped to stand the test.
The girl saw the look of surprise and no rebuke could have been
keener. With a little resentful toss of her head, for this girl who
had so innocently made her aware of her shortcomings, she turned to
answer a call upon the 'phone, and Constance to listen to Mr. Porter's
words.
"Now, Miss Carruth, my idea is this: Suppose we have this little space
fitted up with attractive cases, and the necessary shelves. It is not
very large, but neither is the venture--yet. When it grows bigger we
will find a bigger cubby for it. The thing to do now is to find the
_right_ one; one where you can make a good show, and be sure of
catching your customers, and where the customers are likely to come to
be _caught_. I don't know of any place where, in the long run, more
are likely to come than to a 'phone booth. What do you think of it?"
"It's just _splendid_!" cried Constance. "I couldn't have found a
better place no matter how long I tried. I'm _so_ much obliged to you,
Mr. Porter."
"Better wait until you see how it pans out--the booth, not the candy. I
can speak for the panning of that," laughed Mr. Porter, then added:
"Well, that is step No. 1 taken. Now for No. 2, and that is stocking
up. Have you thought about that?"
"Yes, I've thought. My goodness! I've thought until my wits are fairly
muddled with thinking, but that is the part that bothers me most. I
can make the candy easily enough after school hours, and I can manage
to send it here, but I'm dreadfully afraid I haven't as much capital
on hand as I ought to have to get all the boxes I need. They are very
expensive I find. I wrote to two firms who make them, but it seems to
me they charged me dreadful prices. Perhaps they suspected from my
letter that I wasn't much of a business woman," confessed Constance,
looking frankly into the friendly eyes.
Mr. Porter laughed in spite of himself, then sobering down again
asked:
"Have you time to come back to my office? I would like to make a
proposition to you."
"Why yes, Mr. Porter, I have time enough," hesitated Constance. "But I
am afraid I am taking a good deal more of yours than I ought to."
"Am I not working in the interests of the owner of this building? I'm
trying to secure a new tenant for him. What more could I do?"
"I don't believe their income will be materially increased by _this_
tenant," answered Constance much amused at the thought.
"Every one counts, you know. But now to business."
Entering his office with a brisk air, he again motioned Constance to
the chair by his desk, and asked:
"Are you willing to discuss all the details with me? You know I do not
ask from idle curiosity, I am sure. I am interested; very deeply
interested. I want to see this thing succeed. You have outlined your
plan and it is all right. All it needs now is a little capital to
carry it through successfully. Now let us see if we can't _secure_
that."