But “the whole thing” proved much more complicated than Madeline had supposed. The agent treated them in a businesslike way, which was really very nice of him, Babbie said afterward, considering their vague and even childlike ideas on the subject of what they wanted. He had half a dozen suites on his books that seemed to Madeline suitable, and she went over them easily, suggesting their respective advantages to the other two girls, who were less familiar than she with the ins and outs of New York life.
“This is really the best, I think,” she decided at last, pointing to a Fifth Avenue address.
“It’s a rather expensive location,” suggested the agent politely. “But perhaps that’s no object”—with a glance at Babbie’s exquisite little figure.
“Oh, yes, it is,” Betty assured him solemnly. “You see we want to make a lot of money. How much is the rent, please?”
The agent’s figures fairly took the girls’ breath away. “And I believe they prefer a seven years’ lease,” he added.
“Seven years!” repeated Babbie incredulously. “Why, we shall all be mar—dead in seven years, probably. A month’s rent at that rate would take up about what I think mother meant to give me. But then she’ll have to give me more. Which is the very cheapest place, please?”
The agent pointed it out, but it was only cheap by comparison. And then, as if matters were not bad enough already, he made a disheartening suggestion. “You ought to have at least capital enough to keep you going for a year,” he said. “You couldn’t hope to make much the first year, you know. That’s usually reckoned a dead loss, in conservative business estimates, I believe.”
The girls exchanged glances of consternation.
“We’re very much obliged,” said Babbie, with a fine combination of dignity and her sweetest smile. “But I’m afraid we can’t decide on anything to-day. We may be back——”
“That’s all right,” the agent cut her short. “Always very glad to be of service. Good-day.”