Betty laughed. “He’ll help them himself, if he wants to, I guess. He isn’t the kind to give up easily. The very reason Babbie was prejudiced against him was because of his determined chin. I’ll make out his bill for the food and the other expenses right now, before I forget it.”
When Mr. Thayer came in for his tea that afternoon and was informed of the Tally-ho’s decision, he objected vigorously.
“Suppose those girls from the college did help you a little,” he said. “Give them a spread, if you like, to square things up, and take my check for yourselves. You really must, you know.”
Betty explained that it had been only fun for everybody, and Madeline presented her plan for a club-house.
Mr. Thayer smiled sorrowfully. “I’ve thought of that, and I want them to have one; but if they have a club-house they must have clubs. They must have clubs anyway, for do you know”—his voice took on a tragic intensity—“not much over half of them can read and write. Last month I got a law passed that prohibits their working in this state unless they can read simple English and write little things like their own names, and now I find there are no evening schools in this benighted town, and if there were, what would old men and grown women do in a regular evening school?”
“Was that the law your father didn’t like?” asked Betty.
Mr. Thayer nodded gloomily. “It’s a perfectly good law, but it’s making me no end of trouble. Miss Wales, I’ve noticed that you always seem to come to the rescue of despairing mortals. Can’t you suggest something?”
Betty shook her head thoughtfully. Instead of coming to any one’s rescue she had got to dismiss her extra waitresses again. Nobody had time for lunches and teas just before midyears, and even if the tea-shop should decide to serve dinners a little later, she might be able, with the longer hours, to get on without extra help. Then she remembered something funny that had come in her morning mail.
“I must be queer,” she declared, “because people—despairing mortals—want me to do such funny things for them. This morning I had a letter from a father whose daughter isn’t popular in college, wanting me to show her how to make friends. And I never even heard of the girl before!”
“Well, you’ll do it,” Mr. Thayer declared, preparing to take his leave, “and you’ll help me out somehow, too. I’ve got three months’ grace from the factory commission, before my employees must begin to attend school. Meanwhile I shall put an architect to work on plans for the club-house you’ve compelled me to build by your hundred dollar donation. And by building the club-house I put you under obligations to help me with the clubs. That’s even. Good-bye.”