“You work too hard,” Mr. Thayer decreed. “When I’m overworked I always lose my gloves. It’s a sure sign. You’re not to be bothered with those lists. But the trouble is, I don’t know the college girls. There’s got to be somebody for a go-between. Could I hire one of the hire-able ones for a sort of secretary?”
Betty considered. “Midyears are making everybody awfully busy now and it wouldn’t do to wait ten days or so, till they’re over, would it? Besides, this thing will have to be managed just right to give it a good start. Why don’t you ask Babbie? She’s awfully good at things like that, and awfully interested in the club-house idea.”
“Is she?” gasped Mr. Thayer.
Betty nodded. “She says she thinks the finest thing a rich man can do is to look after the men and women who are making his money for him.”
“She said that?” gasped Mr. Thayer again. Then he looked pleadingly at Betty. “Would you ask her to take charge, please? I think she’d do it quicker for you.”
And he hurried off, leaving Betty to piece together all the things Babbie had said and done in connection with Mr. Thayer, and all that he had said and done in connection with Babbie. Her final conclusions were, first, that Mr. Thayer was afraid of Babbie; second, that Babbie was interested in Mr. Thayer’s work, but not in Mr. Thayer; and third, that Madeline was therefore mistaken, owing to an over-romantic tendency developed by the writing of a great many love-stories.
In any case Babbie readily agreed to post notices about the opening of the stocking factory’s classes, see that the most promising volunteer teachers got the most difficult pupils, interview the Student’s Aid officers about the paid instructors, and be present during the evenings of the first week to make sure that each teacher found her class and that things ran smoothly.
“It’s a good excuse to delay going South until next month,” she said. “Mother is just as bored by Southern resorts as I am, but she hasn’t the strength of mind to break off the habit of going to them. So she’ll be secretly relieved, and as proud as Punch, too, to think that I’m bossing a big evening-school. Mother’s purely ornamental herself, so she admires the useful type of woman. I must write her immediately about the tea-shop’s latest departure. Betty, can’t you induce Mr. Thayer to serve coffee and sandwiches to the ones that learn their lessons nicely, and then the tea-shop will be making something out of my school.”
“Wait till we get our dinners started, before we begin on nine-o’clock lunches,” Betty advised her.
“I shall order the very grandest dinner you can imagine for the opening night,” declared Babbie enthusiastically, “so you must manage to start before I leave.”