Kingsley gave his eye-glasses another lilt. They said as plainly as eye-glasses could: “Well, of course, I made her sick.” Then he added abruptly: “We will advance you two dollars this week—an' that will be all.”
“I hoped to get some little thing that she could eat—some relish,” she began.
“Not our business, Miss Smith—sorry—very sorry—but try to be more economical. Economy is the great objective haven of life. Emerson says so. And Browning in a most beautiful line of poetry says the same thing,” he added.
“The way to begin economy is to begin it—Emerson is so helpful to me—he always comes in at the right time.”
“And it's only to be two dollars,” she added.
“That's all,” and he pushed her the order. She took it, cashed it and went hurriedly out, her poke bonnet pulled over her face. But there were hot tears and a sob under her bonnet.
And so it went on for two hours—some drawing nothing, but remaining to beg for an order on the store to keep them running until next week.
One man with six children in the mill next came forward and drew eighteen dollars. He smiled complacently as he drew it and chucked the silver into his pocket. This gave Jud Carpenter, standing near, a chance to get in his mill talk.
“I tell you, Joe Hopper,” he said, slapping the man on the back, “that mill is a great thing for the mothers an' fathers of this little settlement. What 'ud we do if it warn't for our chillun?”
“You're talkin now—” said Joe hopefully.