Madeline had been sketching in some letters rapidly on her poster. “Tally-ho Tea-Shop fills the space I left most beautifully. I’ll copy this in oils on thin wood, and we’ll nail a gargoyle to the big tree in our front yard and let the sign dangle out of his mouth. Mary, be a jewel and lend us your gargoyle. Ours are all needed inside.”
It was certainly a strenuous week.
“If anybody had made us slave the way we have over this tea-shop,” Babbie declared, “we should have called it cruelty to animals and children. And I don’t believe we could have done it except up here at Harding, where everybody throws things together between classes.”
Just to be sure that everything was “thrown together,” they gave a private view, on the evening before the opening day, for the Hinsdales, Georgia, Polly Eastman, and a few other chosen spirits, who pronounced the Tally-ho Tea-Shop “very neat,” “a gem,” “adorable,” “too cute for words,” or “truly stunty,” according to their favorite adjectives. The open fire, the carriage lamps, and the darkened oak gave just the effect of dim splendor that Madeline had wanted. The bits of old brass tempted one to exploring expeditions; the double-decker bread-trays made one long to order them filled and eat them empty.
“When we get the prints and the candle-shades, it will be about perfect,” declared Madeline, surveying the scene complacently.
“You need a horseshoe over the door for luck,” suggested Dr. Hinsdale.
So Georgia rushed out to a near-by stable to get one, and Dr. Hinsdale nailed it up while the girls sang:
“Here’s to Betty Wales & Co.!
Drink ’em down!
Here’s to Betty Wales & Co.