"But it's such fun," she went on, a little solemnly, "keeping your personal life all ship-shape—all ship-shape, Alfred—and yet really feeling, as you go along, that you're not missing a single thing that's worth while. No, not a single blessed thing, Alfred. When I went to Tahulamaji I hadn't an awfully clear notion of what I was going to do there. You see I thought I'd just have a look-around, as we say. Oh, Alfred," she chatted, "such a lovely spot! So warm and tropical, with music at night over the water.... Alfred, how you would love it there!"
He shifted uneasily, and she went on: "What I did, though—what my life in Tahulamaji really turned out to be—wasn't after all very poetic, or even essentially tropical, when it comes to that. Yes, I've often thought I might have chosen a more harmonious vocation. But one must grasp what one can and be content. The fact is, Alfred, I went into the drygoods business."
"Drygoods!" cried her sister.
"Yes—just think of that—and after all the really exciting things I've done in my life! But that's exactly what I did, Anna. Yes, that's what my life was in Tahulamaji. And you've simply no idea how the thing took! The natives, you see, were just beginning to wear clothes—regular clothes, I mean, dear brother. And in a few months I had an establishment—an establishment, I tell you, with departments and counters and clerks.... It was perfectly beautiful to see them skipping about, and the little cash boxes running on their tracks overhead...."
"Marjie, really?"
"Yes, indeed. Of course that came just a little later on, after electricity had been introduced. The arrangement was somewhat crude, but it worked. Anna, you've no idea the things you can do if you really set your heart on them! Yes, in time we even had cash boxes overhead, and there was I, up in the cage where all the cash boxes went to, making change and keeping the books! That's what makes me laugh so, when I think of it: you living in your nice house in Ohio, and me up in the little cage with the cash coming in by trolley!"
"Marjory, Marjory!"
"The third year I had a dressmaker over from San Francisco, and the business trebled at once. The poor dears had been trying to make their own clothes, but of course they didn't know much about styles. I had a circulating library of pattern books, but it was a great day, I tell you, when the dressmaker arrived! They closed the schools, and a reception was held. Even the Queen came down the line! I have a manager now," she concluded, "running the business. I said I simply had to get off for a rest. Alfred," she soared to her climax, "your sister has worked herself weary and rich. How much will the new parish house cost?"
The Rev. Needham gasped. This is really not an exaggeration. He gasped—and it was, this time, no merely inner gasping, either. Marjory—the new parish house ...!
"Why, Marjory!" he cried, his heart deeply touched. There sounded again here that former note of appeal or even pathos.