Father is going through practical business arithmetic with me, and says he means to teach me how to take care of money, and even fit me to take a position in his bank.”
“I pity your father,” said Winnie. “But seriously, Milly, it is the best thing you could do.”
“There is something else,” Milly said, with a painful blush, “which father says is the foundation of business, and in which I have already had one lesson, and that is honesty. He says that all the sad failures, embezzlements, and defalcations come from borrowing money that does not belong to one—using money for one purpose that was intended for another; and he means to go over a great many such cases with me to show me on what a terrible precipice I have been playing. But indeed he need not say another word, for I have been severely punished, and I think I would rather put my hand into fire than go into debt one dollar, or spend a penny for marsh-mellows that father had given me for chocolate creams.”
Winnie turned and kissed Milly. “I would trust you with millions,” she said; “but Adelaide is the only one in the Corner who knows anything about business.”
“I am sure, Winnie,” I replied, “that the way you have managed the Home finances disproves that modest assertion. What are you going to do during the summer?”
“I have no mother, you know,” Winnie said gravely, “but I am going to my father, and shall try to make his life a little less lonely for him. He writes that his eyes have been troubling him. Perhaps he can dictate to me and I can be his amanuensis. I shall take my paint-box with me, and mean to daub a little all summer. Professor Waite has no faith in my genius, but I intend to astonish that gentleman one of these days. He admits that I have an eye for colour, and the rest can be learned. If father can spare me for a week I shall accept your invitation, Adelaide, and when I appear you must give me the interior of a room to decorate. It will be startling, I tell you. I have a good deal of King’s Daughter work to do, too. You know we have not raised the money for the Manger, and the Home must have it, for they have been receiving the babies, though they have no good nursery. Now in the summer we all do more or less fancy work, and I am going to write to all the circles of King’s Daughters with whom we are in correspondence, and ask them to work for a fair, which we will hold in New York in the autumn. I have had a talk with Madame and she favors the idea. She even suggested that each circle should be invited to send a delegate who should assist in selling the articles at the tables, and very generously offered to entertain them here for three days during the continuance of the fair. You see, the school is never full at the beginning of the term, and perhaps she thinks it will be a good advertisement of her institution, to have girls from all over the county meet here, though there is really no need of imputing such mercenary motives to her. I have spoken about it at the Home to Emma Jane, and she will see that the proposition is made at the next meeting of the Board of Managers.”
“Well, you certainly have your hands full,” Milly remarked, “but I think I can help you after our tennis tournament is over. I will get the girls at the Pier to make fancy work for you if I can get any time from my arithmetic. Where will you hold the fair?”
“I haven’t planned as far as that.”
“I think the new armory at the barracks will be a splendid place,” Milly suggested. “I will get Stacey to ask Colonel Grey if we can use it, and then perhaps the cadets will be interested to do something to assist in the entertainment. They might act a play or furnish the music at least.”
“I will drum up the two circles of King’s Daughters at Scup Harbor,” I said, “and we will have a useful table, with holders and aprons and dish-wipers; pickles, honey, butter, and preserves. Why, certainly, home-made preserves. While I’m about it this summer I will make you some currant jelly and pickled peaches.”