First Steps
During the ensuing week it would have been hard to find a busier
household than the Carruths'. Instead of telephoning to Mr. Porter on
Monday morning, as he had suggested, Constance wrote a long letter
Saturday evening, giving accurate directions for the boxes, and
enclosing a paper design to be sent to the manufacturers.
The letter reached him by the early mail, causing him to exclaim:
"George, what a level little head she _has_ got! She shall have those
boxes before next Saturday, if I have to go after them myself. Why the
idea is simply great!"
Going to his 'phone he called up Mrs. Carruth's home. Constance had
already gone to school, but Mrs. Carruth answered the 'phone. She was
quite as delighted as Constance would have been, and promised to
deliver the message to her upon her return. When she heard it
Constance's cheeks glowed.
"Isn't he a _dear_, mother, to take so much trouble for me? And now I
must get _busy, busy, busy_. I've pounds and pounds of candy to make
between this and Saturday, and I must make it afternoons."
"I can not bear to think of you doing this, dear," said Mrs. Carruth,
laying her hand tenderly upon the soft brown hair.
"Why not, I'd like to know?" cried Constance.
"Because it takes the time you should spend in outdoor exercise. You
work hard in school, and that has always seemed to me to be quite
enough for any girl to undertake. Yet here you and Eleanor are about
to give up your afternoons for this work and the coaching."
Mrs. Carruth sighed, for it was hard for her to adjust herself to the
new order of things in her family. Raised upon a large plantation,
where she, the only daughter, was her father's idol, for whom
everything must be done, and whose every wish must be considered, she
shrank from the thought of her girls laboring for their daily bread,
or stepping out into the world beyond their own thresholds. Her father
would have felt that the world was about to cease revolving had _she_
been obliged to take such a step. Indeed it would have quite broken
his heart, for never had any woman of _his_ household been forced to
do aught toward her own maintenance. But times had changed since
Reginald Blairsdale had been laid away in the little burial plot upon
the plantation, where his wife had slept for so many years, and his
daughter had lived to see many changes take place which would have
outraged all his traditions.
"Now, mother, _please_ listen to me," said Constance, earnestly, as
she slipped her arm about her mother's waist. "I am _not_ going to
give up all my afternoons, and neither is Eleanor. As to the exercise,
we each have a pretty long walk to and from school mornings and
afternoons, and, in addition to that, Eleanor will go to her pupils'
houses to do her coaching. That gives her a good bit of exercise three
afternoons each week, and she has _all_ her Saturdays free. I shall
give little more than two hours a day to my candy making, and I know
you and Jean will gladly help me do the packing and tying up. Just how
I shall send it over, I haven't decided yet; that can be settled later
when I send a ton or so each day," laughed Constance. "Meanwhile Mammy
will take it over, or _I_ can. Only _please_ don't dampen my
enthusiasm or worry because I am undertaking this step. I am perfectly
well and strong, and I'll promise not to do anything to endanger that
health and strength. So smile upon my venture, Mumsey, dear, and make
up your mind that it _is_ going to be a _great_ success,--because it
_is_," ended Constance, with a rapturous hug.
"You are my brave, sweet girl!" said Mrs. Carruth, very tenderly.
"Yes, I'll put my Blairsdale pride in my pocket--or rather my hand-bag,
since pockets are no longer in fashion, and try to be a full-fledged,
twentieth-century woman. Now what is the first step?"
"The first step is to make my candies before I try to sell 'em. No,
the first is to order the stuff sent home to make them of. I'll 'phone
right down to Van Dorn's this minute. I've plenty on hand for this
afternoon's candy, but I'll lay in a big supply ahead."
The 'phoning was soon done, and then Constance hurried to the kitchen
where for the two ensuing hours she worked like a beaver. At the end
of that time several pounds of tempting sweets were made and ready to
be wrapped in paraffin paper. When this was done all was packed
carefully into tin boxes to await the arrival of the paper ones.
Constance surveyed the candy with much satisfaction, as indeed she
well might, for no daintier sweets could have been found. Turning to
the others she cried:
"I feel as self-satisfied and self-righteous as though I'd just put a
new skirt braid on my skirt, and I don't know of anything that makes
one feel more so. If I can make five pounds a day for six days I'd
have a pretty good supply on hand for Saturday, my 'opening day.' My,
doesn't that sound business-like? Nornie, don't you wish _you'd_ taken
to a commercial rather than a professional life? Come on Jean, the
others will die of envy when they see our candy booth spread and
spread until it swallows up all the office space in the Arcade," and
catching up the saucepan in which she had made her candy, Constance
began to beat a lively tattoo upon the bottom of it, as an
accompaniment to her whistling, as, still enveloped in her big apron,
she pranced about the kitchen. Jean, also in gingham array, promptly
joining in, for Jean's resentment had vanished since she had been
taken into the girls' confidence and "entered the partnership" as she
called it.
In a day or two another message came over the 'phone to Constance,
asking her to call at the Arcade, the following afternoon.
Upon reaching there at three o'clock, she was met by Mr. Porter, who
had been on the lookout for her.
"Glad you've come, little girl! Glad to see you," he said heartily.
"Come and look at your cubby and tell me what you think of it. _I_
think it great." While he talked Mr. Porter led the way to the rear of
the Arcade. As they drew near the stairway, Miss Willing glanced up,
gave an indifferent nod in answer to Constance's "How do you do, Miss
Willing?" and turned to her 'phone. Miss Willing much preferred being
the center of attraction beneath the stairs, and was not enthusiastic
over the thought of sharing her corner with "one of them big-bugs, as
they think themselves." Could she have known it, this girl, whom she
was so stigmatizing, felt herself a very tiny bug indeed in the world
in which Miss Willing dwelt, and secretly stood in considerable awe of
the young lady who could look with so much self-assurance into the
eyes of the patrons of her 'phone booth, and smile and joke with old
and young men alike. There were always several around the booth.
Constance wondered why they seemed to have to wait so long to have
their calls answered. Her own 'phone calls at home were answered so
promptly. However, while these sub-conscious thoughts passed through
her brain, the more wide-awake portion of it was taking in the changed
appearance of her cubby's corner.
Mr. Porter had lost no time and spared no trouble, and the Arcade's
carpenter to whom he had given instructions to "do that job in shape
and mighty quick," had followed those instructions to a dot. There was
the cubby, the wood all carefully painted in white enamel, the
portable shelves made of sheets of heavy glass. A high railing and
gate shut off one end, giving ingress to the proprietor, and privacy
if she wished at any time to stay at her counter for awhile. On the
lower shelf of the counter stood a little cash box divided into two
sections: One for bills the other for silver. Just above it was a
small white sign upon which was plainly painted in dark blue letters:
"Constance B.'s Candies."
Take what you wish.
Leave cost of goods taken.
Make your change from my cash box.
Respecting my patrons' integrity,
Constance B. C.
Kindly close the door.
Constance clasped her hands and gave a little cry of delight. All her
ideas were so perfectly carried out.
"Oh, Mr. Porter, it is perfectly fascinating! How good you are! How am
I ever going to pay for it though? I had no idea you were going to so
much trouble and expense."
"But you don't _have_ to pay for it. Every office has to be fitted up
for its tenant's needs you know, or he wouldn't rent it. So I had to
have your cubby fitted up for yours. Now you can stock up as soon as
you're a mind to. And, by-the-way, those boxes will be along to-morrow
morning. I told them they must hustle, and they have. Are your photos
ready to paste on 'em?"
"Yes, they came home last evening; at least six dozen of them did, and
the rest will come next week. I'll send them to the box manufacturers
for the next lot and they can be put right on there. It will save our
time."
"Good! Twelve dozen boxes will be delivered this time, and the rest
will be along pretty soon. Send your photos to them as quickly as you
can. I'm glad you like your cubby."
"Like it! Why I'd be the most ungrateful girl that ever lived if I
didn't like it. It's just simply _splendid_! But a whole year's rent
won't pay you back I'm afraid."
"Don't care whether it does or not. Mean to make you sign a _five_
years' lease next time. When will you stock up?"
"Mammy is coming over with me early Saturday morning. Just think we
have already made over twenty-five pounds of candy. I want to have
fifty on hand to start with. Do you think I'll _ever_ sell it?" and
the pretty girlish face was raised to Mr. Porter's with the most
winning of smiles.
"Little flirt! I wonder if she knows he has daughters as old as _she_
is," muttered the girl at the 'phone. Constance was quite unconscious
of either look or comment.
"Of course you'll sell it. Mark my word it will go like hot cakes,"
was the encouraging answer.
"I hope so. And thank you again and again for _all_ you have done.
Good-bye. Please tell your daughters what a proud girl you have made
me," and the little gloved hand was held toward him. He shook it
warmly and walked with her to the front door. As he turned to go back
a man who occupied a cigar stand near the door nodded and said with a
laugh:
"Got a new tenant, Mr. Porter? Goin' to let us have another pretty
girl to talk to?"
"I've got a new tenant, yes, Breckel, but, unless I am very much
mistaken, you will not talk to her a great deal, and when you _do_
you'll take your hat off, and toss away your cigar. It's a pity we
can't have a few more such girls in our business world. It would raise
the standard considerably. Men would find a better occupation than
making fool speeches to them then. Mark my word that little woman will
succeed."
"I'm sure I hope she will if she's the right stuff," answered Breckel,
the laugh giving place to a more earnest expression and tone of voice,
which proved that the man, like most of his stamp, had something good
in him to be appealed to.