One Month Later
One month had passed since the eventful opening day. A month of hard,
incessant work for Constance, Mammy and Jean, who insisted upon doing
her share. It was nearly March, and the air already held a hint of
spring. The pussy-willows were beginning to peep out upon the world,
and in sheltered spots far away in the woodland the faint fragrance of
arbutus could be detected.
From her opening day, Constance's venture had prospered, and the
little candy booth's popularity became a fact assured. Up betimes
every morning, Constance had her kettles boiling merrily and by seven
o'clock many pounds of candy were ready to be packed in the dainty
boxes. Then came Jean's part of the work and never had she failed to
come to time. True to her word to be a "sure-enough partner," she was
up bright and early and had her candies wrapped and packed before her
breakfast was touched. Mammy and Baltie, soon became familiar figures
in South Riveredge, and many of Constance's patrons believed the old
woman to be the real mover of the enterprise. How she found time to
convey the candy boxes to the booth, arrange them with such care,
collect the money deposited there the previous day by the rapidly
increasing number of customers, and still reach home in time to
prepare the mid-day meal with her usual care, was a source of wonder
to all. Yet do it she did, and her pride and ambition for the success
of the venture rivaled Constance's. Failure was not even to be dreamed
of. No one ever guessed the hours stolen from her sleep by the good
soul to make up for the hours stolen from her daily duties, but many a
night after bidding the family an ostentatious "good-night, ladies,"
and betaking herself to her bedroom above stairs, did she listen until
every sound was hushed and then creep back to her kitchen and work
softly until everything was completed to her satisfaction.
Friday afternoons and Saturdays, Constance took matters into her own
hands, and she soon discovered that another mode of transportation for
her candy would be imperative, so rapidly was the demand for Constance
B.'s Candies increasing. So after the first two weeks the local
expressman was pressed into service, and the old colored man, who for
years had run the elevator in the Arcade, received the boxes upon
their delivery.
The way in which the old man had scraped acquaintance with Mammy,
caused Mr. Porter considerable amusement. Mammy's intercourse with the
colored people she had met since coming North, had not been calculated
to increase her respect for her race. Finding "Uncle Rastus" at the
North, she instantly concluded that he had been born and raised there.
That, like herself, he might have been transplanted, she did not stop
to argue. But one day when Mammy was struggling with an unusually
large consignment of candy, Uncle Rastus hurried to offer his services
"to one ob de quality colored ladies," as he gallantly expressed it.
This led to a better understanding between the two old people, and
when Mammy discovered that Rastus had been born and raised in the
county adjoining her own, and that his old master and hers had been
warm friends, Rastus' claim to polite society was indisputable, and
from that moment, Mammy and Rastus owned the Arcade, and the courtly
old negro, and dignified old negress caused not a little amusement to
Constance B.'s customers, and the people who frequented the Arcade. It
would be hard to tell which grew to take the greater pride in the
venture, for Rastus had all the old antebellum negro's love and
respect for his white folks and Mammy lost no opportunity for singing
the praises of hers. And thus another member was added to the firm and
Constance's interests were well guarded.
Not once since launching upon her venture had Constance met with any
loss. The little cash box invariably held the correct amount to
balance the number of boxes taken from the booth, and the returns
surprised Constance more than anyone else.
"I tell you I'm going to be a genuine business woman, see if I'm not,"
she cried, after balancing her accounts one Saturday evening. "Why
just think of it Mumsey, dear, here are fifteen dollars over and above
_all_ expenses for the week. If I continue like this I'll be a
million_nairess_ before I know what has happened. How are you
flourishing, Nornie? Are your Pegasus Ponies as profitable?"
"Not quite, but I'm hopeful," laughed Eleanor. "Some of them are
spavined in their minds, I fear. At any rate they don't 'arrive' as
quickly as I'd like to have them in spite of all my efforts. However,
they are not going backward, and I dare say that ought to gratify me,
especially when they are willing to pay me two dollars an hour for
helping them to stand _still_. I can't make such a showing from
driving my coach as you can make from wielding your big spoon, Connie
dear, but ten dollars added to your fifteen will keep the wolf from
the door, won't it little mother?" ended Eleanor, laying her hand upon
her mother's shoulder.
Mrs. Carruth rested her cheek upon it as she replied:
"What should I do without my girls? I am _so_ proud of my girls! So
proud!--yet I cannot realize it all."
"You haven't got to do without us. We're here to be done _with_,
aren't _we_, Nornie?" cried Constance, gayly.
"We certainly _are_," was the hearty response.
"Then why don't you add my part?" demanded Jean, who had faithfully
made her journeys to the Irving School each Saturday morning, and upon
each occasion returned triumphant with her candy box empty, but her
little coin bag well filled with dimes, for her customers were always
on the lookout for her.
"I have, Honey. It is all included in the amounts set down here,"
answered Constance.
"Yes, but I want to know just which part of it is mine. How much did I
sell last Saturday and how much to-day?" persisted Jean.
"Twenty-five packages last Saturday and eighteen this. Forty-three in
all. Four dollars and thirty cents in two weeks, and four dollars in
your first two weeks. Eight dollars and thirty cents all told, little
girl. Two dollars seven and a half cents a week. I call that pretty
good for a ten-year-old business woman, don't you, Mumsey, dear?"
"I call it truly wonderful," was Mrs. Carruth's warm reply.
"What do _you_ think of it, Mammy?" cried Constance. "Aren't we here
to be done with after that showing?"
"Done wid _what_?" promptly demanded Mammy, who had no intention of
committing herself before becoming fully informed of all the facts.
"Done _everything_ with. Made use of. Worked for all there is in us.
Made to pay for ourselves. Isn't that right, Mammy? Say 'yes' right
off. Say 'yes' Mammy, because that's why we are big, and young, and
strong, and happy, and anxious to prove that we are the 'banginest
chillern' that _ever_ were. You've said so hundreds of times, you know
you have, so don't try to go back on it now. Aren't we _just right_,
Mammy? Successful business women and a firm of which you are proud to
be a member? The Carruth Corporation, _bound_ to succeed because,
unlike other corporations, it has a _soul_, yes, _four_ of 'em, and
can prove that a corporation with four souls can outstrip any other
ever associated. _Mine's_ as light as a feather this minute, so let's
prance," ended Constance, springing toward Mammy, to catch her
hardened hands in her own warm ones, and give a beckoning nod to Jean
and Eleanor, who were quick to take her hint. The next instant a
circle was formed around Mrs. Carruth's chair, the girls singing in
voices that made the room ring.
"Mammy, dear,
Listen here,
Isn't this a lark?
Every day,
Work and play,
And each to do her part."
While poor old Mammy sputtered and protested as she pounded around
with them willy-nilly.
"Bangin'est chillern! _Bangin'est_ chillern! Huh! I reckons you _is_!
Huh! Let me go dis _minit_! Miss Jinny! Miss Jinny! Please ma'am, make
'em quit. Make 'em let loose ob me! Dar! You hear dat? Eben Baltie
heer yo'in' holler. Bres Gawd, I believes he's 'fronted kase he lef'
outen de cop'ration. Dat's hit! He's sure _is_. Let me go dis minit, I
say. He gotter be part ob it," and giving a final wrench from the
detaining hands, Mammy rushed away crying in answer to old Baltie's
neigh, which had reached her ears from his stable:
"Yas, yas, Baltic hawse, Mammy done heard yo' a-callin' an' she's
a-comin'; comin' to passify yo' hurt feelin's case you's been left
outen de cop'ration. Comin', honey, comin'."
About this book:
Original publication data:
Title: Three Little Women, A Story for Girls
Author: Gabrielle E. Jackson
Publisher: John C. Winston Company
Copyright: 1913, by John C. Winston Company