There it was! First they had disagreed about the toys, and then, when I disagreed with either of them, they sided together! Well, I finally gave way—I might have done it in the first place and saved the trouble—and I invited the whole bunch of them up on the following Friday night. It seemed to me a risky experiment, but Betty was so keen on it—and I had to admit she was no fool. Anyhow, I didn't think it could do much harm.
When the evening had come, and gone, and they had all left the house, Betty squared herself in front of me, and said:
"Well, what have you to say for yourself?"
Solemnly I replied: "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings—"
"I don't know whether you are the babe, or the suckling; but it's very seldom wisdom cometh forth from you!" she broke in; but her eyes were dancing with delight at the success of the evening—for it certainly had been a success.
Jimmie's mother had kept looking at Betty all night, and whatever Betty said she agreed to. She was a good-hearted soul, who was always quoting "my Jimmie." She had no ideas of her own whatever, and she believed that Betty was a kind of guardian angel. It seemed that some weeks ago Jimmie had had a bad cold, and Betty had noticed it while in the store and had gone across the road and bought some cough lozenges which she gave him. She had forgotten all about it; but ever since then Betty has been on a pedestal in that household. . . . Isn't it queer what a little act of kindness like that will lead to?
Jones' girl was named Elsie Perkins. I didn't like the name Elsie; but she was much better than her name. She was a quiet little girl, but had an opinion and will of her own. She worked at the bank and was Blickens' personal stenographer. I never even knew that Jones was acquainted with her! How little the majority of people do know about their employees; and if they only knew more about them, how easy it would be to get better results from them!
That evening certainly resulted in a more friendly feeling among my little staff than ever there was before.
Mrs. Larsen was a very queer woman. When she came in she bristled—do you know what I mean by that? Well, whenever any one said anything to her she bristled all up, as if there was going to be an argument. When she came into the house and Larsen introduced me, I said:
"How do you do, Mrs. Larsen?"