"He told me," Alex answered. "He was so pleased that you appreciated the value of his find."
"And he was so disappointed when he found I kept a shop," laughed Norah.
Alex smiled and flushed. "Grandfather has old-fashioned ideas about women supporting themselves, and then, too, the neighborhood was rather opposed to having a shop built here."
"I know," answered Miss Pennington, "but as it is here we flatter ourselves nothing could be less objectionable than our shop."
"You are undoubtedly winning us over. It seems to me a delightful occupation, but I suppose it is not so easy and pleasant as it looks."
"Of course it is work, but we find it pleasant. For several years I taught, but to keep a store has always been my ambition since I was three years old, and I at last persuaded my friend to join me in an experiment."
"You don't make all your lovely baskets, surely?" Alex asked, her eyes on the strings of raphia and an unfinished basket that lay on the table.
"Oh, no. It is work Miss Carpenter can do at times,—her eyes allow very little of any sort,—but most of our stock comes from a Mothers' Club in a settlement in which we are both interested. I lived there for a time. You can't think how much it has meant to those women. They bring their babies with them, and they sing while they work, and the babies sleep or are entertained by their surroundings. Many of the patterns are original, and they have developed a wonderful sense for color and form in some instances."
"How interesting!" exclaimed Alex. "I don't see how you ever happened to come to a stupid town like this."
"Our pottery has a history, too. It is designed and decorated by two young women, and it has taken very well wherever it has been exhibited. But I do not mean to go on talking shop all the evening," and Norah paused with a smile.