“You won’t get fifty cents a pound from the hotel,” said Eleanor. “That’s because they’ll take such a lot, and they’ll pay you every week. So I told them they could have all they wanted for forty cents a pound. But, you see, at fifty pounds a week, that’s twenty dollars a week, all the year round, and with the other fifty pounds you’ll sell to private families, that will make forty-five dollars a week. And you haven’t even started yet. You’ll have lots more orders than you can fill.”
“I’m wonderin’ right now, ma’am, how we’ll be able to make a hundred pounds of butter a week.”
“I thought of that, too,” said Eleanor, “and I bought half a dozen more cows for you, right there in Cranford. They’re pretty good cows, and if they’re well fed, and properly taken care of, they’ll be just what you want.”
“But I haven’t got the money to pay for them now, ma’am!” said Mrs. Pratt, dismayed.
“Oh, I’ve paid for them,” said Eleanor, “and you’re going to pay me when you begin to get the profits from this new butter business. I’d be glad to give them to you, but you won’t need anyone to give you things; you’re going to be able to afford to pay for them yourself.”
Mrs. Pratt broke into tears.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said or done yet, Miss Mercer,” she sobbed. “I just couldn’t bear to take charity—”
“Charity? You don’t need it, you only need friendly help, Mrs. Pratt, and if I didn’t give you that someone else would!”
“And eggs! They’ll be able to sell eggs, too, won’t they?” said Dolly, jumping up and down in her excitement.
“They certainly will! I was coming to that,” said Eleanor. “You know, this new parcel post is just the thing for you, Mrs. Pratt! Just as soon as a letter I wrote is answered, you’ll get a couple of cases of new boxes that are meant especially for mailing butter and eggs and things like that from farmers to people in the city.