“THIS TEA-SHOP CLOSES AT SIX”
“If it was an order for Tally-ho candle-shades,” Babbie told him, still icily, “we’re not taking any more. We have all the work that we can finish for Christmas already.”
“No, it’s not candle-shades,” Young-Man-Over-the-Fence assured her blandly. “It’s a bigger thing than that.” He paused impressively and was rewarded when a gleam of curiosity crossed Babbie’s impassive little face. “I’ll come back to-morrow afternoon,” he repeated.
“Wait a minute,” Babbie commanded swiftly. Betty had inspired her with a sense of the importance of being businesslike, and here was a big order that ought, perhaps, to be treated with special respect and consideration. “I’ll tell Miss Wales that you’re here and possibly she can see you more conveniently now. The name, please?”
“Robert Thayer, Junior, from the stocking factory,” he told her. “And say, please, that I’ve come on business, about a Christmas party that I want to arrange for.”
“I don’t think we do catering for parties,” Babbie told him, “and I believe we are to close for the Christmas holidays. But I’ll tell her.”
A minute later Betty was shaking hands with Young-Man-Over-the-Fence, alias Mr. Robert Thayer, Junior, of the stocking factory.
“It’s lucky I didn’t just cut in here to be cheered up, as I’d intended to,” he explained with a sigh of relief. “That other member of the firm is a suspicious person—or perhaps you’d warned her against me. But her theories were unfounded. May we sit down? You see I’ve had an inspiration, and I couldn’t wait to get it going.”
“That’s just like Madeline,” laughed Betty. “She wakes me up in the middle of the night with her inspirations. Once she even wanted me to dress and come over here with her to see whether we could make a big horseshoe out of oats.” Betty pointed to the one over the fireplace. “And then when I wouldn’t, she was days and days getting around to it.”