“You may carry the white paper fan, little deb,” mocked Nancy. “We couldn’t sell it so I’d be delighted to donate it to your coming out party.”
“Oh, it isn’t mine, it’s yours,” chirped Isabel, “and I hope you are not going to wear that howling yellow gingham—”
“I am. Yellow’s my color,” and Nancy flipped the skirt of her dress around gaily.
They were preparing, as might easily be guessed, for the “private performance” promised by Mr. Sanders. Nancy had talked with him over the phone, after his visit to the class that morning, and arrangements were then made to invite the Townsends over, besides permission having been granted Ted to bring in his chum, Buster Clayton. Just now Ted was upstairs dressing; also singing and telling stories to Nero, most of which racket could be heard down in the store.
Mrs. Brandon’s cheeks became soft as damask when Nancy showed her the big check for one hundred dollars, which Nancy explained was in no sense a gift, but purely part of a business transaction between her and Mr. Ashley’s real-estate office. The mother did not try to hide her delight, that Nancy should have become such “a splendid little business woman,” and she predicted her own retirement from the office at an early date, if such wonderful achievements were to be kept up.
“And your bank account, my dear,” she told Nancy when they were in confidence over the developments, “aren’t you proud of it?”
“A little, Mother-mine,” faltered the happy girl, “but there’s something better than that,” she said shyly, for Nancy was not given to boasting.
“I know,” and the mother arms went around her. “Besides, you know now that even despised housework is not so bad when it has an interesting motive. That’s why we mothers tolerate it; because we are working for our darling children.”
“I know, Mums, but I really only thought 'dishes’ before, now I think—”
“The joy of helping us,” Mrs. Brandon supplied. “And I’m so proud of your cooking, and how much it has benefited Miss Manners, as well as your friends. Why, my dear, I would make you vain were I to tell you one-half of what I hear—”