“I have to leave that to you,” Betty told her solemnly. “The regular affairs of the tea-shop, and Mr. Morton, are all that I can manage. The ploshkins will be here to-morrow in full force, and Mr. Morton has written to know if we can’t think of some small improvements that can be made next week during the spring vacation. He can’t bear to wait until summer for everything.”
“As if this place wasn’t just about perfect now!” said Babbie scornfully.
But Mary Brooks, appearing in the midst of the discussion, took a different view. “You’ve got to keep making them sit up and take notice of something new over and over and over,” she announced. “That’s business. The ploshkins will do for one thing, but if the Morton millions are fairly languishing to be wasted on this property, you ought to be able to think of some features to spend them on. Just wait a minute—I have it—a tea-garden! Pagoda effects scattered over the side yard. Lattice work, and thatched roofs, Japanese screens to keep out the sun and the stares of the gaping crowd, and lanterns for evenings. I’m sure it would take.”
“It’s commonplace compared to what I’ve thought of,” declared Babbie proudly. “What we want is a Peter Pan Annex in our elm trees. I presume you’ve never been to the original Café Robinson, Mary, but we have, and it’s way beyond any tea-garden.”
Betty was in the window, peering out at the Harding elm trees.
“We could,” she declared. “I always wondered how those two trees happened to be so close together, and now it seems like fate that they’re exactly right for a Café Robinson.”
“And easily tall enough for three stories,” cried Babbie, joining her.
“We mustn’t forget the big one-two-three signs for the stories,” chimed in Betty excitedly.
“Nor the basket to pull up with the extra things,” added Babbie.
“We’ll tell Nora to have some extra things in every order so they can all have the fun of hauling up the basket.”