Betty considered. “Why, I don’t know. I might. But if Madeline plans things she’ll have a desk that the Queen of England would be dying to sit at, if she saw it,” she ended gaily.
“But are you sure of making money?” demanded father dryly. “Times are bad——”
“But even in bad times people have to eat,” Betty took him up hastily. “And if tea is sixty cents a pound, and there are piles of cups in that, and you sell a cup for ten cents, how can you help making money? People do, in tea-rooms, or they wouldn’t be sprouting up everywhere. And if it can be done I’m sure Madeline and Babbie and I can do it. I just know we can!”
Mr. Wales’s glance traveled from Betty’s dancing eyes to her mouth with its pleading curves. “Well, mother,” he said, “shall we let her try?”
Mrs. Wales hesitated. “I don’t like the idea at all, but under the circumstances——”
“We’ll talk it over and let you know in the morning,” father suggested.
“Betty,” began little Dorothy forlornly, “you said I could be ’sistant cook as soon as I learned to toast the bread and not burn it. And now I’ve learned. If you go away and have a tea-room, I think I ought to be something in that.”
“You can be a silent partner, mademoiselle,” suggested Will teasingly.
“What’s that?” demanded Dorothy.
“About the same thing as a company, I guess,” explained Will. “Betty can call herself Betty Wales & Co., and you can be the Co. See?”