“Yes, it's fine, if—if—if!” exploded Ellie, who was not quite so optimistic as she had been in the morning. Several Indian women had come into the store, and while they stared in astonishment at the pretty goods displayed on the counter, they had gone out without buying anything.
Job Lansing had shrugged his shoulders, and while not a word had escaped him, his manner had said emphatically, “I told you so!”
“But where is there any if, I'd like to know. You just have to sell all that stuff as fast as you can, and that will show him.”
“But if the squaws won't buy? They didn't seem wild about it this morning.”
“Well, you're not dependent on the squaws, I should hope. I'm going to tell Mother, and she'll come up, if I say so, and buy a lot of dresses.”
“Now, Lou Prescott, don't you dare! That will spoil everything. Uncle would say it was charity. You see we are trading with squaws. Don't laugh, Louise! I must make good! I just must! But how am I going to make those squaws buy what I want them to buy? If Uncle would only plan and work with me, I know we could make a success of it. But he won't!”
“You should have invested in beads, reds and blues and greens, all colors, bright as you could get them.”
“That's a good idea, Lou. I'll do it. But they can't buy a string of beads without buying a dress to match it! I'll do it, Lou Prescott!”
An hour later, when they returned to the store, Job Lansing looked up from the counter, his face wrathful. He had just measured off six yards of pink organdie and was doing it up in a package for Joe Hoan's daughter. Job Lansing hated to give in. He had tried to get Lillie Hoan to wait until Ellie returned, but she had insisted, and so the old man was the first to sell a piece of the pretty goods. He did it ungraciously.
Ellie and Louise stood still and stared at each other. Then Ellie whispered: “It's a good omen. I'm going to succeed.”