"No, Baltie belongs to you and Mammy. By-the-way, how did you get on at the school to-day? You haven't told me yet."

"Just _splendiferous_! The boys bought every bit I took; I mean every bit that was _left_ after Professor Forbes got all _he_ wanted. He was at the gate when I drove up, and what do you think he did? Made me stop until he had bought six packages of fudge and six packages of pralines, and then made me promise always to save them for him. My goodness if that man doesn't have _one_ stomachache," ended this sage young lady speaking from bitter experiences of her own.

"Jean!" cried Eleanor.

"Well, it's true. Twelve whole packages of candy all for _himself_, greedy old thing! And he asked me if I couldn't come _twice_ a week. I told him I guessed not, and if he wanted it oftener than once a week he'd have to come after it. And he said that was precisely what he _would_ do, and to ask my sister to please to have twelve packages for him on Wednesday afternoon. _That_ man's teeth will need a dentist just you see if they don't," ended Jean with an ominous wag of the head for the sweet-toothed professor, while the rest of the family shrieked with laughter.

"What do _you_ suggest for my boxes, mother?" asked Constance, when the laugh had subsided.

"How about little white moire paper boxes with some pretty flower on the cover?"

"Pretty, but not very distinctive I'm afraid," said Constance, doubtfully.

"How about those pretty j.a.panese boxes they have at Bailey's?"

ventured Eleanor.

"Still less distinctive. No; I must have some design that suggests _me_. Don't think me conceited, but I want people to know that the candy is made and sold by a school-girl, who cannot be there to look after her counter, and must trust to their honesty. I've got an idea about my _sign_, but, somehow, I don't seem to be able to get one that is worth a straw for the boxes, yet I've been thinking as hard as I could think."

"Wait a minit, Baby," said Mammy, and hurried from the room. She came back in about ten minutes holding a small box in her hand. Placing it upon the table before Constance, she said: "Now, Honey, mebbe dis yere idee ob mine ain' nothin' in de worl' but foolishness, but seems ter me ef yo' want distincshumness you's got hit _dar_. I ain' half lak ter let yo' _do_ hit, but dey's _yo'_ candies, so I spec' yo' might as well let folks unnerstan' hit."

The box was one which Jean had given Mammy the previous Christmas. It was made of white moire paper with a small medallion in gilt in the left-hand upper corner, the medallion being in the shape of a little gold frame formed of gold beads. Originally there had been a colored picture of Santa Claus's face within it, but over this Mammy had carefully pasted a small photo of Constance; one taken several years before. In the center of the box was written in gold script "Merry Christmas," and just beneath that the word "bonbons."

"Couldn't you have yo' name whar de Merry Christmas stan' at an'

'candies' whar de bong bongs is?" asked Mammy.

"Mammy, you old dear!" cried Constance, springing to her feet to throw her arms about the wise old creature. "You've hit it exactly. Why I couldn't have anything better if I thought for a whole year. I'll have some pictures taken right off and the boxes shall be just exactly like this. Hurrah for 'Constance B.'s Candies!' Come on Mammy, we've got to celebrate the brilliant idea!" and catching the astonished old woman by the arms, Constance whirled her off on a lively two-step, whistling the accompaniment, while Mammy cried:

"Gawd bress my soul, is yo' gone stark crazy, chile!" and at length broke away to vanish protesting within the privacy of her kitchen.

CHAPTER XXII

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 Sat.u.r.day 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 Sat.u.r.day, 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 Sat.u.r.day, 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 Sat.u.r.days 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 Sat.u.r.day, 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 s.p.a.ce 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 ap.r.o.n, 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-a.s.surance 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 pa.s.sed 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 gla.s.s. 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?"