CHAPTER XXI

Constance B.'s Candies

"Now, Miss Carruth, tell me the prices quoted for the boxes, and how many you had thought of ordering," said Mr. Porter, in the voice so encouraging when used by older people to younger.

"Well, if I order _any_ I suppose I ought to order a hundred," began Constance.

"One hundred!" echoed Mr. Porter. "Why, little girl, that would not be a flea-bite. You ought to order five hundred at least."

"_Five hundred!_" cried Constance, in dismay. "Why, Mr. Porter, I'm afraid I've hardly enough money to order one hundred at the rate they charge," and she named the sums asked by the firms to which she had written.

"Bosh! Nonsense! That's downright robbery. You let _me_ write to a firm _I_ know of and we'll see what we'll see. And now I'm going to take some stock in this company right off. I'm going to invest one hundred dollars in it to be used as a working capital--there--don't say a word of protest," as Constance voiced an exclamation. "_I_ know what I'm up to, and--I love sweets. If you can't pay back in any other way you can keep me supplied for a year. Just now you've got to start out in good shape, and there is no use doing things half way. But you haven't asked me what I'm going to charge you for your booth?" concluded Mr. Porter, with a merry twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Why I forgot all about the price," said Constance in confusion. "Oh, dear, how stupid I am."

"Well, since it is a space we never thought to rent anyway, and couldn't use for anything else if we wished to, suppose we say five dollars a month? I think those are pretty good returns for a cubby. If I do as well in proportion with all the other offices I'll make the owners rich."

"I'm afraid it is _very_ low. I think you are only letting me have it so cheap just because you liked father. Don't you think I ought really to pay more? I didn't think I could get _any_ sort of a place for _less_ than ten dollars a month," was Constance's most unbusinesslike speech.

Mr. Porter looked at the earnest face regarding him so frankly and confidingly, and a very suspicious moisture came into his eyes. Rising from his chair he laid his hand kindly upon her shoulder as she arose and stood before him, and said very gently:

"Don't worry yourself on _that_ score, little girl, and--don't mind it if I _do_ call you little girl; you seem that to me spite of your business aspirations. I am asking you a fair price because I know you would rather feel that you are _paying_ a fair price for what you get, and would prefer beginning your business venture on such a basis. I am also advancing this sum of money because I am confident you will succeed. It is purely a business speculation. I would do it for your father's sake, but I know you would rather I did it upon strictly business principles. I can not lose my money in any case, because if I do not get the actual cash, I know I shall get my sweets--a whole hundred dollars' worth. It fairly makes my mouth water to think of them, and my girls will go wild when I tell them. Keep up a brave heart, and, above all, keep that pretty modesty you have, for it will carry you farther than any amount of audacity. It is your best armor. There is nothing a man respects more than a brave and modest woman, my dear. Nothing in this world. Now, little woman, go home and think up the style and sizes of the boxes you will need and let me know at once. 'Phone me early Monday morning. Design something yourself if you can; it will take quicker. Next week I'll have your stall put into shape and you can make your candies and stock up as soon as your boxes come. _Then_ we will soon learn whether your faith in your fellow-beings is justified or misplaced. I believe you will find it justified; upon my soul I do; though I have never before seen such a scheme put to the test. Now good-bye; good-bye, and God bless you," ended Mr. Porter, warmly shaking the small gloved hand.

"Good-bye, Mr. Porter, and, oh, thank you _so_ much for your kind interest. I feel so brave and encouraged to begin now," cried Constance, her eyes confirming her words, and her cheeks glowing.

Mr. Porter accompanied her to the elevator, and with another hearty farewell, sped her upon her way brimful of enthusiasm, and more than ever resolved to carry into effect the scheme which had entered her head many weeks before, and which was now taking definite form and shape.

The trolley car seemed fairly to crawl along, so did her desire to reach home and tell of the afternoon's undertaking outstrip its progress. It was quite dark when she alighted and climbed the hill at her home, thinking, as she ascended the steps, how sweet and cheerful the little home looked, for her mother, in spite of the warnings volunteered by some of her friends that some day she would be robbed as the outcome of letting all the world look in upon her, would never have the shades drawn. Mrs. Carruth always replied:

"For the sake of those to whom a glimpse of our cheery hearth gives pleasure, and there are more than you guess, as I have learned to my own surprise, I shall take my chances with the possible unscrupulous ones."

And so the window shades remained raised after the lamps were lighted, and many a passer-by was cheered along his way by a peep at the sweet, home-like picture of a gentle-faced woman, and three bright-faced girls, gathered around the blazing hearth, and reading or sewing in the soft lamp-light.

"Dear little Mumsey," said Constance, softly, as she paused a moment before crossing the piazza. "Your girlie is going to help you keep just such a sweet home forever and ever, and ever." Then giving the whistling bird-call by which the members of the family signaled to each other, she went close to the window and looked smilingly in.

Up bounced Jean to fly to the door; Eleanor raised her head from the book over which she was, as usual, bent, and nodded; Mrs. Carruth waved her hand and wafted a kiss.

"Oh, come in quick, and tell us where you have been, and what you have done," cried Jean, opening the door with a whirl.

"Hello, baby! Give me a big hug first," cried Constance, and Jean bounded into her arms. Mrs. Carruth had crossed the room to welcome the tardy one, and as soon as she was released from Jean's tempestuous embrace, took the glowing face in both her hands gently to kiss the cheeks as she said:

"What a bonny, bonny glow the cheeks wear, sweetheart. Something very lovely must have happened."

"Oh, mother, I've had such a perfectly splendid afternoon and feel so brave and proud about it all. Let me get my things off and I'll tell you all about it. But is supper almost ready? I'm half-starved? Excitement sharpens one's appetite doesn't it? Heigh-ho. Nornie. What news of the ponies? If you're to be a coach-woman you've got to have some sort of an equine creature to hustle along, haven't you? Did you have time to go and see the prospective ones this afternoon? And oh, _how_ did the auction turn out, mother? Gracious, what stirring people the Carruths are getting to be compared with the common-place, slow-going ones they were."

"Jean, dear, run out and tell Mammy that Constance is home, and we will have supper at once. You can tell us all the news at the table, dear."

Jean flew for Mammy's quarters, quite as eager as Constance to have the supper served.

"Mammy! Mammy! Connie's got back, and she's starved _dead_! Mother says have supper right off quick," burst out Jean, as she whisked through the butler's pantry.

"Jes so. Whar dat chile been? Go 'long back an' tell 'em de supper 'ready an' a waitin', as de hyme book say, an' I got sumpin' dat dat chile pintedly love."

"What is it, Mammy? What is it?" cried Jean, eagerly, as she ran over to inspect the dishes upon the range.

"Get out! Clear 'long! Yo' keep yo' little nose outen my dishes!" cried Mammy, with assumed wrath, as she pounced upon little Miss Inquisitive. "Yo' go right 'long an' tell her I'se got lay-over-catch-meddlers in hyer an' lessen yo' take keer you'll turn inter one."

"Fiddlestick!" retorted Jean, as she flew back.

A few moments later the family had gathered about the delightful supper table and Constance was relating the experiences of the afternoon, while first one and then another exclaimed over her venture, Mammy crying as she urged her to take another of the dainty waffles she had made especially for her. "Honey, what I tol' yo'? Ain' I perdic' dat yo' boun' ter hit de tack spang on de right en'? I say dat dem pralines and fudges de banginest candies I ever _is_ see, an' de folks what done buy 'em--huh! My lan' dey fair brek dey necks fallin' ober one an'ner ter git _at_ 'em de minit I sot myse'f on dat ar camp stool. An' now yo' gwine open a boof an' 'splay 'em fer sale? But yo' aint gwine stan' behin' de counter is yo'? Yo' better _not_ set out ter do no sich t'ing as _dat_, chile, whilst _I'se yo'_ Mammy. No-siree! I ain' gwine stan' fer no sich gwines-on as dat--in a Blairsdale. Yo' kin hab yo' cubby, as yo' calls hit, an' take yo' chances wedder yo' gits cheated or wedder yo' meets up with hones' folks, but yo' cyant go behin' no counter, an' dats flat. When yo' gwine begin makin' all dat mess o' candy?"

"Just as soon as I have some boxes to sell it in, Mammy, and those I must design. At least must suggest something pretty for the covers."

"Have a picture of Baltie on the cover, Connie. He was the first one to take your candies to South Riveredge," cried Jean, with thoughts ever for the faithful old silent partner.

"No, Baltie belongs to you and Mammy. By-the-way, how did you get on at the school to-day? You haven't told me yet."

"Just _splendiferous_! The boys bought every bit I took; I mean every bit that was _left_ after Professor Forbes got all _he_ wanted. He was at the gate when I drove up, and what do you think he did? Made me stop until he had bought six packages of fudge and six packages of pralines, and then made me promise always to save them for him. My goodness if that man doesn't have _one_ stomachache," ended this sage young lady speaking from bitter experiences of her own.

"Jean!" cried Eleanor.

"Well, it's true. Twelve whole packages of candy all for _himself_, greedy old thing! And he asked me if I couldn't come _twice_ a week. I told him I guessed not, and if he wanted it oftener than once a week he'd have to come after it. And he said that was precisely what he _would_ do, and to ask my sister to please to have twelve packages for him on Wednesday afternoon. _That_ man's teeth will need a dentist just you see if they don't," ended Jean with an ominous wag of the head for the sweet-toothed professor, while the rest of the family shrieked with laughter.

"What do _you_ suggest for my boxes, mother?" asked Constance, when the laugh had subsided.

"How about little white moire paper boxes with some pretty flower on the cover?"

"Pretty, but not very distinctive I'm afraid," said Constance, doubtfully.

"How about those pretty Japanese boxes they have at Bailey's?" ventured Eleanor.

"Still less distinctive. No; I must have some design that suggests _me_. Don't think me conceited, but I want people to know that the candy is made and sold by a school-girl, who cannot be there to look after her counter, and must trust to their honesty. I've got an idea about my _sign_, but, somehow, I don't seem to be able to get one that is worth a straw for the boxes, yet I've been thinking as hard as I could think."

"Wait a minit, Baby," said Mammy, and hurried from the room. She came back in about ten minutes holding a small box in her hand. Placing it upon the table before Constance, she said: "Now, Honey, mebbe dis yere idee ob mine ain' nothin' in de worl' but foolishness, but seems ter me ef yo' want distincshumness you's got hit _dar_. I ain' half lak ter let yo' _do_ hit, but dey's _yo'_ candies, so I spec' yo' might as well let folks unnerstan' hit."

The box was one which Jean had given Mammy the previous Christmas. It was made of white moire paper with a small medallion in gilt in the left-hand upper corner, the medallion being in the shape of a little gold frame formed of gold beads. Originally there had been a colored picture of Santa Claus's face within it, but over this Mammy had carefully pasted a small photo of Constance; one taken several years before. In the center of the box was written in gold script "Merry Christmas," and just beneath that the word "bonbons."

"Couldn't you have yo' name whar de Merry Christmas stan' at an' 'candies' whar de bong bongs is?" asked Mammy.

"Mammy, you old dear!" cried Constance, springing to her feet to throw her arms about the wise old creature. "You've hit it exactly. Why I couldn't have anything better if I thought for a whole year. I'll have some pictures taken right off and the boxes shall be just exactly like this. Hurrah for 'Constance B.'s Candies!' Come on Mammy, we've got to celebrate the brilliant idea!" and catching the astonished old woman by the arms, Constance whirled her off on a lively two-step, whistling the accompaniment, while Mammy cried:

"Gawd bress my soul, is yo' gone stark crazy, chile!" and at length broke away to vanish protesting within the privacy of her kitchen.