"We may as well count in Penny for good measure, and to please her," Happie had said, so "Six Girls" they announced themselves to be.
"I wish we knew what to do next," said Laura. "Has it opened?"
"Yes, I think so," said Margery with a hasty glance around her. "People look as they go by, and some don't go right by; they stop to stare in and to read our card. They don't come inside."
"Too early," said Happy. "No one would want tea at this hour of the morning, unless it were a foreigner. There's some one now who certainly doesn't look American."
A man in a heavy caped cloak, with a broad brimmed soft felt hat drooping over his eyes, and with long moustaches and an imperial, was looking in at the window. He was tall and large of frame, yet the hand that pulled at the moustaches was supple, white and thin. He carried himself in soldierly fashion, yet had an air of uncertainty, an absent-minded effect that was at variance with the bearing. Altogether, as he lingered long, and then walked slowly past the door, looking in hard as he went, the three Scollards decided that they objected to him; he made them nervous. It was a relief when one of the many ladies who read their sign turned crisply, right about face, and descended their low steps.
"Our first customer!" exclaimed Margery.
"Our first visitor, at least," added Happie.
She was a resolute-looking personage, exceedingly well attired, with such an effect of having found the world her oyster,—already opened at that,—that it was surprising to discover she could hardly be an inch above five feet tall.
"What have you here?" she said by way of reply to Margery's faintly murmured, "Good-morning."