Happie laughed. "Sure enough! Oh, it doesn't matter, not as much as forty dollars and ninety cents a day, and that's what we've taken in. To be sure there are crackers, sugar, tea, lemons, cream, candy materials—— Well, at the worst we've made a lot."
"Polly, dear, what are you doing?" Gretta asked.
There was Polly, leaning almost into the middle of a table, pencil in hand,—wetting it often at her puckered lips,—while she set down figures on a piece of wrapping-paper.
"Trying to see how much money we'll have a year," said this practical little woman of ten. "See, Happie. I multiplied $40.90 by six; that's right, isn't it? Because we won't come down Sundays. And—oh, don't laugh! See if it's right. Six times ought is ought, and six times nine is fifty-four? I never feel sure of the nines. Six times ought—no, set down the five, and six times four is twenty-four. Isn't that two hundred and forty-five dollars and forty cents a week? Then how many weeks in the year? Isn't this the way to get it?"
"It's all right, Polly-pet. The only thing is that you're counting chickens where I see only a basketful of eggs!" cried Happie. "There's one thing certain; you've worked like a whole river bank of beavers, and done your full share in making this day a success. But what a success it is, Margery and Gretta! Laura, play just one little waltz to relieve our feelings while we're waiting for Bob; the door's locked!"
But even as she spoke Bob rattled the door knob and Penny stampeded to let him in, poor little Penny, who had been very good through a tediously long afternoon.
"We're rich, Robert!" cried Happie. "It's been wonderful."
"Good for the Teasers!" Bob shouted. "Take me around to the Waldorf and dine me!"
"Well, it's begun—well begun," said Happie with a long breath as "the Teasers" emerged with Bob on the street, locked their door, and set their faces dinnerward. But how much had begun, nor where it was to end, she little dreamed.