“Of course I see,” declared Dorothy with great dignity. “And I think I’d rather be a Co. than a ’sistant cook. Don’t forget that I’m the Co., Betty.”
“I won’t,” Betty promised laughingly. But she gave “Co.” a hug that made the little girl gasp for breath. The tea-room might be mere fun for Madeline and Babbie, and father and mother might look upon it as a foolish fad; but to Betty it was solemn earnest, and the unqualified interest and approval of even one little girl, who didn’t understand, helped.
CHAPTER IV
PLANS AND PARTIES
Next morning Mr. Wales called Betty into the library to tell her she might do as she liked about the tea-room. His voice broke as he explained that unless things took a sudden turn for the better they should probably have to give up their house, at least for a year or so.
“So your present position is likely to be abolished,” he went on with a rather forlorn attempt at gaiety, “and I heartily sympathize with your wish to be up and doing. I hate to think that a daughter of mine needs to work, but I’m glad she isn’t afraid to. It used to be the fashion for young ladies whose families had lost their money to sit at home, turning and mending their clothes and remembering better days.”
“I know—like Mary Hooper’s great-aunts,” laughed Betty. “That’s so stupid. I’m glad I was born later. But, father, did mother come around to the restaurant idea? Because maybe Nan or Rachel or somebody could get me a place to teach, if mother would be happier about it. But girls who want to work don’t all teach nowadays. Truly they don’t.”
Mr. Wales laughed. “That’s another antiquated notion, is it—that teaching is the only ‘genteel’ calling? Your mother and I about came to that conclusion last night. Anyway we’re quite willing that you should try out this project. I will give you the money that your board here would cost for the rest of the winter. You can use it as capital if you like, but I should strongly advise holding it as an emergency fund for personal expenses. Tea may be sixty cents a pound and ten cents a cup, but I imagine you’ll find that’s only one very small detail in the budget of a tea-room.”
“Of course,” agreed Betty, not daring to avow complete ignorance of the meaning of a budget. “And thank you ever so much, father, for letting me try. If we don’t succeed and my emergency fund gives out, will you send me some beautiful references as a cook?”
“Certainly not, after you’ve basely deserted us with less than a week’s notice,” retorted her father, pulling a yellow curl, and Betty danced off, perfectly delighted at the exciting prospects before her, to look over her clothes and make a list of other things she should need “in her business.” But her ideas of the duties of her position were so vague and businesslike, and clothes so very uninteresting, that she finally decided not to waste her last week at home over them. If Madeline thought her shirt-waists looked too frivolous, she could overwhelm her with the six big aprons and Will’s cook-book.
Betty timed her arrival in New York a day after Madeline’s, but only Babbie Hildreth met her train.