“To my mind a most unlady-like, vulgar thing. Here it is if you want to see.” A second look at a card in her hand before passing it over caused her to exclaim, “No! Is it possible! Mrs. Lennox has taken them up! Her name is actually printed on the card—it is the most astonishing thing I ever heard of!”
“If you mean their business cards, Mary, I was consulted and saw the original draft and recommended the printer. Um,” examining the card critically, “he has turned out an excellent piece of work, artistic and quiet in tone. I thought he could be relied upon.”
“Philip, you are too exasperating! I believe if those girls sold papers on the street corner you would think it the finest thing ever done!”
“I probably should,” he rejoined imperturbably. “As for these cards, they are something to be proud of! ‘Salads, croquettes, fancy sandwiches, jellies, salted nuts, etc., etc.,’” he went on, running his eye down the list. “Gad! how they have pushed ahead! They mailed five hundred of these yesterday,” looking over at his sister, “and I fancy Radnor people will not be slow in responding.”
“Oh! Mrs. Lennox’s name will be an alluring bait,” she said. “People will patronize them because she does, for a time, but they make a great mistake in relying upon her; this is just one of her fads.”
“I can’t understand, Mary, how you take such delight in imputing disagreeable motives to people. Mrs. Lennox is not patronizing the girls—she has great respect for them. Neither are they relying on her in the least. They rely only on their own skill and ability to do their work to the satisfaction of their customers. Mrs. Lennox has kindly allowed them to add her name by way of reference or indorsement for those people who know nothing about them. It places them before the public in an unassailable position.”
“Are they going to open a shop?” asked Miss Ware, a little superciliously, interested in spite of herself.
“No, they mean to keep right on as they are, making things only to order. They will have no stock on hand. It is the best they can do under the circumstances, for it is impossible to branch out to any considerable extent while their father needs them close at hand.”
“Good gracious, Philip! you wouldn’t advise a shop?” She made a wry face over her coffee, in which, in the excitement of the discussion, she had neglected to put any sugar.
“I don’t know,” the Doctor replied, stroking his beard thoughtfully, “I am not sure. Being conducted in their home, a business such as theirs must of necessity be limited, and the profits small. One must do things in large quantities to make money. I have thought a good deal about a little shop—it may come to that eventually, but I am not sure that I want it to. They are not going to hold out forever; as it is they are living on their nerves,—they have been too delicately reared to stand such work.” He pushed his plate away and folding his arms on the table leaned forward confidentially. “Mary,” he said, “I wish I could get you to care for those girls—to love all that is so sweet and lovable in them.”