“Paint 'em black!” chuckled the old man.
“Of course!” said Ellie. Then in a tone loud enough to carry across the store, “Isn't Uncle quick to notice things?” Ellie meant him to hear what she said, but she was none the less sincere, for she did have a high regard for her uncle's ability. She had said to Louise often in the last few days, “When I get Uncle started, there'll be no stopping him.” Still, the remark had been sent forth with a purpose.
Job Lansing gave the girl a quick glance. She was daubing brown paint on the girl-doll's eyes. He was pleased by her praise and no less by her readiness to take his advice.
The little dresses and suits sold quickly. Mrs. Matthews bought a supply, and told others about them.
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“'Isn't this great! They're here, every one of them! You're awfully good to let us use the phonograph'.”
But they were mostly white women who purchased these things; and while Ellie was glad to get their trade, she still had the fixed idea that she must get the squaws in the habit of coming in to do their own shopping.
The quick sale of the new goods made a deep impression on Job Lansing, and he seemed especially pleased at the sales made to the white women at the mines. One morning he approached his niece with the suggestion that she had better keep her eyes open and find out what the women around the mountains needed. Ellie had been doing this for weeks. She had a big list made out already, but she saw no need of telling her uncle. She looked up, her face beaming.
“That's a capital idea, Uncle. I think we might just as well sell them all their supplies.” Ellie was exultant. She knew her troubles were over, that her plan was working out.