“And can you see us, all creeping home after nightfall with our supplies, leaving you and your girl to clean up the mess? Not for my kitchen, Mrs. Larry.”
A silence followed these few spirited remarks.
“That does put it in a new light,” said Mrs. Norton at last. “But it looked so lovely on paper.”
Claire echoed the sigh.
Mrs. Larry, her shoulders drooping pathetically, was folding up the clippings.
“Don’t let me discourage you,” continued practical Mrs. Moore. “If you think you can organize and secure ten women willing to give a great deal of time and put up with considerable inconvenience in order to save, perhaps, ten per cent. in the final accounting, go ahead and try it; but I thought you ought to know that I had thoroughly investigated Mrs. Bangs’ plan and found just where it fails us women in small apartments. I do not think her club even exists now, but it served an excellent purpose—it made Mrs. Bangs an authority on household economics and marketing, and she is very busy writing for publication.”
“Well, then, it helped some one,” remarked Mr. Larry, trying to speak lightly, and wishing he could pat Mrs. Larry’s hand without being caught in the act.
“Oh, yes, each of these cooperative plans has its good points,” continued Mrs. Moore. “I have two friends living in Chicago who belong to such an organization, and they save a great deal, but they deal directly with the producers.”
“How?” asked Mr. Norton, deeply interested.
“By parcel post, express and correspondence. Their organization grew out of the old Fifty-first Street Food and Market Club, formed to clean up the markets and groceries and stands in their neighborhood. From cleaning up food, they naturally turned their attention to cutting down prices. One of the leading spirits of this club, which is little more than a group of practical, earnest neighbors, is Mrs. J. C. Bley, president of the famous Chicago Clean Food Club, and active in all the good works done by the household economic department of the equally famous Woman’s Club.