The success of the Tally-ho Tea-Shop’s opening day left the amazed proprietors somewhat aghast. When Babbie Hildreth arrived at twelve, in a plumed hat and a trained gown, and with a lunch party of six in tow, things were already at such a pass that after a whispered word with Betty she shoved her guests hastily into the one empty stall, pinned up her train, tucked her plumed hat under one of the benches, and proceeded to take Betty’s place as cashier, so that Betty could go to the rescue of her well-nigh distracted cook. At twelve-fifteen Madeline appropriated Polly Eastman’s runabout and drove at a gallop to the Hinsdales’ to borrow Mary’s waitress and a fresh supply of linen and silver. At twelve-thirty Georgia Ames appeared, very hot and hungry from a strenuous game of tennis, only to be mercilessly seized upon by Babbie and rushed off for more oranges and bananas.
“They cry for fruit salad like children for castoria,” declared Babbie fiercely. “And they have nothing but five dollar bills. Bring me all the change you can carry.”
At one o’clock the real rush began. Girls sat on the broad steps or swarmed over the lawn waiting for vacant tables. At half-past one Madeline went out to them and explained that nearly everything was gone, except tea and bread-and-butter sandwiches; and some of the girls went off, after having engaged tables for next day. At half-past five, when the last of the afternoon tea drinkers had departed, the managers of the Tally-ho Tea-Shop held a solemn conclave in the front stall, their aching feet tucked comfortably under them on the long benches.
“It was a fright,” said Babbie. “I took three hundred checks, and money enough to pay the rent till Christmas. I hope I made right change some of the time.”
“It’s great,” sighed Madeline, “simply great! There’ll be perfectly huge profits for Mrs. Hildreth and Mrs. Bob and me.”
“If this is going to keep up,” put in Betty, “we’ve got to have more of every single thing. I’m afraid we’ve killed off Bridget already.”
“Send her home in a carriage,” suggested Madeline recklessly. “Let’s all go home in a carriage. Speaking of home, I’ve got to take the sleeper down to-night. Poor Mrs. Bob has telegraphed twice. You see I told her to advertise the apartment, and the would-be tenants are standing on the door-steps shrieking to get in. I’ll be back here the first minute I can, though.”
Betty looked at Babbie. “Didn’t you say your mother had changed her plans and come home?”
Babbie nodded. “I’ve got to fly back to her or she’ll get blue and rush me off to Palm Beach for the whole winter. You’ll be all right without us, Betty. You must have all the extra help you want, and if we’re going to do such a tremendous business I think you ought to have more salary.”
“So do I,” chorused Madeline, “which is very sweet of me, considering how it will wipe out profits.”