“I'm not in a hurry myself,” said her uncle, smiling. “Maybe that's because I think I'm all the band there is myself. But if you want to introduce the Chicago system you should start with Mrs. Wright's Italian warehouse down the street—the poor body's losing money trying to run her shop on philanthropic principles.”
Bud thought hard a while. “Phil—phil—What's a philanthropic principle?” she asked.
“It's a principle on which you don't expect much interest except in another world,” said her uncle. “The widow's what they call a Pilgrim hereabouts; if the meek were to inherit the earth in a literal sense, she would long ago have owned the whole county.”
“A truly Christian woman!” said Miss Bell.
“I'm not denying it,” said Mr. Dyce; “but even a Christian woman should think sometimes of the claims of her creditors, and between ourselves it takes me all my time to keep the wholesale merchants from hauling her to court.”
“How do you manage it?” asked Ailie, with a twinkle in her eyes; but Dan made no reply—he coughed and cleaned his spectacles.
CHAPTER XVII
THERE was joy a few days later in the Dyces' kitchen when Peter the postman, with a snort that showed the bitterness of his feelings, passed through the window a parcel for Kate that on the face of it had come from foreign parts. “I don't ken who it's from, and ye're no' to think I'm askin',” said he; “but the stamps alone for that thing must have cost a bonny penny.”