"Well, you're a queer pair, that's all I can say." But it was not all he thought.
Phebe had received no business training whatever; even when a child a book had more fascination for her than a pair of scales, and to dream dreams was more in her line than playing at shop, or even dressing dolls. But she was one of those women who, when they once realise what the work is they are shut up to, quickly master all the details, and with zest determine to become master of it. She saw plainly there was no path before her but what led behind counters. For her children's sake, and for God's sake, she determined to make the business "go"; the zeal she put into it acted as balm to her wounded heart; her industry kept away the feeling of desolation, giving her no time to brood over the hardness of her lot. Indeed, the business was a "godsend," but for it she might have sunk into a spiritless, listless life; instead of that, faculties were developed in her that her nearest and dearest never dreamed she possessed. Of course her father warned her against all unwomanly ways, constantly reminding her that the duty of every member of her sex was to be like a flower and "blush unseen"; but to others he daily sung her praises.
Reynolds by degrees became reconciled to her reforms, and after watching the conflagration of a box of valuable feathers, doomed to destruction on account of the cruelty by which they were obtained, he decided that nothing which might happen in the future as to the conduct of the business would ever surprise him.
Away in Texas there is a little plant called the compass plant, and the Indians, even in the night, can tell by feeling its leaves the direction in which they are going. The top leaves, weighted by dew or dust, sometimes lose their power to point in the right direction, but the young leaves, standing edgewise to the earth, are always true, ever pointing north and south. To Reynolds Phebe was as a compass plant by which he learned to measure right and wrong, but, best of all, she pointed him to God. Of all this she was unconscious, and it was better so; but would she always point true? Would the world's dust ever cause her to lose that charm?
In spite of Reynolds' fears, all these reforms did not affect the business adversely; there were some losses, but the gains outnumbered them. A good many customers came out of curiosity, and gossip was pretty rife in the town, but all the information they got was that Mr. Waring had gone abroad with the idea of starting a business. Some even questioned Phebe herself and Mrs. Colston, but gained no further information.
No other letter had been received from Ralph, but Stephen Collins sent a note one day saying that the ship which Ralph had sailed in had safely arrived after a pleasant journey, and all were well on board. Phebe supposed Stephen had gathered this information from the newspapers, but asked no questions.
One day Reynolds startled his mistress by saying, "Don't you think we might begin to enlarge our borders?"
"What do you mean?—do you want us to take in a third shop?"
"No; but a long time ago master spoke of starting a village trade, and I don't see why we should not start it now." And then he went on to give the names of some villages which were quite growing localities through becoming small manufacturing centres, but where shops had not increased accordingly. By canvassing these and lonely farmhouses which lay between, he thought a good bit of business might be done.
"It could not be done without a horse and cart, and I could not afford to buy those just now," said Phebe, shaking her head.