CHAPTER III
THE CUP THAT CHEERS
FOR two days the Patty-Pans was hardly bereft of its young mistressesfor an hour. It was fragrant with the odors of its sacrifices;cake-making and candy-making went on all Thursday and Friday inpreparation for the opening of the tea room on Saturday.
Happie's strong point was fudge, and she made so much of it that it didnot seem possible half of it would be sold, especially when Margery hadcontributed her three pans each of vanilla and chocolate caramels.
Bob and Ralph escorted the three oldest girls down to the tea roomafter dinner on Friday, laden with good things and to make sure thatnothing was wanting for the morrow. Sleep was light and broken for halfof the eight excited tenants of the crowded Patty-Pans after they hadcome back that last night, and morning came sooner than the subduedlight of the small chambers indicated.
Laura was to have followed Margery and Happie on that opening day,after lunch when Gretta came down, but her discontent at thisarrangement was so great that kind little Polly volunteered to wait,and Laura set out with Margery and Happie when Mrs. Scollard wentforth with Bob to the work of the day.
"Good luck, Three Sisters!" said Bob, shaking hands at parting. "So youare the Three Sisters--the Fates, you see! Isn't it great that all ofus Scollards are business men?"
Mrs. Scollard looked as if she might dispute the desirability ofthe situation. It was not easy for her to reconcile herself to themisfortunes attendant on her husband's death, which had deprived herchildren of their birthright of ease and social position. For herselfthe heroic little woman was not tempted to complain, but for them!Even Happie's light-heartedness could not take the sting out of theremembrance of what she had lost. But all she said was:
"We will meet in the restaurant for dinner, girls, and Bob will fetchyou. Take care that nothing happens to Penny after Gretta gets her toyou this afternoon. And good-bye, dear little tea ladies! Good fortune,and don't be dismayed if you encounter customers who are less inclinedto enjoy your tea room than you are."
They were inclined to enjoy it more than ever, the three girls, whenMargery, the portress, admitted them. Happie drew back the soft greencurtains on their brass-ringed rod and let in the sunshine she loved.Laura opened the piano and rearranged the fronds of the fern which shehad pleaded might sit on it, on a safely large brass tray. Margeryopened and delicately sniffed each tea caddy for the unnumbered time,to make perfectly certain that she had labeled aright Ceylon, EnglishBreakfast and Oolong.
The girls were all to wear gowns alike in style, differing in colors.Margery's was the dove color with a hint of lavender that so perfectlysuited her dove-eyes and madonna face. Happie's was a beautiful green,Laura's a soft, faded pink, Gretta's--when she came--would blend withthem in its golden tint that was not yellow, buff nor brown, butsuggested all three. Polly's was blue--Polly was to help serve if needwere--as they hoped it would be. They were gowns with a full, tuckedskirt, simple tucked waists, and fluffy point d'esprit fichus thatturned the little costumes into something between a suggestion of MarieAntoinette at the Petit Trianon, and of Priscilla, the Puritan maiden,when she had attired herself becomingly in the demure hope that JohnAlden might at last come to "speak for himself."
A card, not so bad as Bob's proposed sign, stood in the window statingthat here was "A Tea Room and Library, Conducted by Six Girls."
"We may as well count in Penny for good measure, and to please her,"Happie had said, so "Six Girls" they announced themselves to be.
"I wish we knew what to do next," said Laura. "Has it opened?"
"Yes, I think so," said Margery with a hasty glance around her. "Peoplelook as they go by, and some don't go right by; they stop to stare inand to read our card. They don't come inside."
"Too early," said Happy. "No one would want tea at this hour of themorning, unless it were a foreigner. There's some one now who certainlydoesn't look American."
A man in a heavy caped cloak, with a broad brimmed soft felt hatdrooping over his eyes, and with long moustaches and an imperial, waslooking in at the window. He was tall and large of frame, yet thehand that pulled at the moustaches was supple, white and thin. Hecarried himself in soldierly fashion, yet had an air of uncertainty, anabsent-minded effect that was at variance with the bearing. Altogether,as he lingered long, and then walked slowly past the door, looking inhard as he went, the three Scollards decided that they objected to him;he made them nervous. It was a relief when one of the many ladies whoread their sign turned crisply, right about face, and descended theirlow steps.
"Our first customer!" exclaimed Margery.
"Our first visitor, at least," added Happie.
She was a resolute-looking personage, exceedingly well attired, withsuch an effect of having found the world her oyster,--already opened atthat,--that it was surprising to discover she could hardly be an inchabove five feet tall.
"What have you here?" she said by way of reply to Margery's faintlymurmured, "Good-morning."
"A tea room and a circulating library," Margery said unnecessarily, forthe card had told her as much as that.
"Why do you say: 'Conducted by six girls'?" demanded the little lady.
"There are six of us," said Happie, coming to Margery's aid at a glancefrom her. "But, to be truthful, the youngest is only a silent partner."
"Are you the proprietors?" cried this first visitor.
"We, with another girl my age and my little sister to help us," saidHappie with pardonable pride.
"Ridiculous! I don't want tea now, but I shall want it later. I livenear here. I will come in again at noon and see what absurd tea youhave. Are you poor? You look like ladies," said this candid person.
"That is our only fortune," replied Happie demurely. Margery wastoo annoyed to speak, but Happie's sense of humor made this form ofimpertinence seem to her merely amusing.
A shadow darkened the doorway, and before the first visitor could carryon her catechising further Mrs. Scollard's old friend, Mrs. Charleford,the "Auntie Cam" who had taken Margery away with her to Bar Harbor theprevious summer, came into the room, followed by her daughter Edith,Elsie Barker, and Eleanor Vernon, Happie's three best friends, whomshe had not seen since April had taken her away from New York into themountains.
The girls rushed upon Happie and nearly devoured her. "Oh, I am soglad!" "Oh, Happie, we have missed you so!" "Oh, you funny, darling oldHappie, if this isn't the queerest scheme, and just like you!" theycried in a trio.
The first visitor stalked out. "I shall return for my tea," she said ingoing.
"Who's your friend?" asked Elsie Barker.
"We hoped that she was to be our first customer, but that's all weknow," Margery answered.
"She is Mrs. Jones-Dexter," said Mrs. Charleford. "Eccentric, saidto be a most determined person, very wealthy, and wrapped up inher grandchild, who is a little pupil of your Aunt Keren's friendup-stairs, Mrs. Stewart."
"Well, we shall never see her again," said Happie. "She doesn't matter.Oh, girls, tell me all about yourselves before any one comes."
There was not time for this, however. It lacked but a week of shoppingdays to Christmas, and the street was soon crowded. Happie did not gether talk. The tea room began to fill. In an hour there were more peoplethan the girls could look after, and pretty Edith Charleford offeredto attend to the library end of the business till Gretta and Pollyarrived. Elsie and Eleanor departed with Mrs. Charleford, with onlya whispered hint from Happie that she had a plan for a good time alltogether very soon, to content them.
It was not long before all the books, twenty-five, had been given outand Margery had their value deposited with her, neatly entered againstthe name of the person to whom each had gone.
"We haven't one book left!" she said to Happie. "And we thoughttwenty-five almost too many to buy! What shall we do?"
"Invest the deposits in as many more books," said Edith Charlefordpromptly. "Let me run over to the book department
at Hauss'--it's sonear!--and do the investing. I love to buy books. I'll get a messengerto carry them, so they'll be here as soon as I am."
"All right," said Happie. "You'd better put all the money into 'TheInfusion of a Soul,' and the other two everybody asks for. Oh, dear,if Gretta would only hurry!" Edith ran off to buy the books, and whenshe came back Gretta had arrived. Polly was already serving tea inthe steadiest, most capable manner, and Gretta was behind the screen,taking Margery's place at the gas stove, dismayed at the prospect offacing so many customers.
Edith went home at last, looking tired but bearing the blessings of thegirls who had needed her help.
Happie looked up from the fudge she was weighing and saw Mrs.Jones-Dexter unexpectedly returning down the steps.
"She's a man of her word, whatever else she is," thought Happie, tyingthe gold and blue cord on which she prided herself, around the box offudge. "I'd better wait on her; she would crush Margery."
She hastened to the table which the great little lady had appropriated.
"Formosa Oolong," she said severely. "I hope that you are sure there'sno green tea in it!"
"Only green little tea-maidens," smiled Happie, and her customer said:"Humph!"
The tea proved to be too strong, the crackers too sweet, both of whicherrors Happie corrected philosophically.
"No lemon!" ejaculated the amiable Mrs. Jones-Dexter. "No sane persontakes lemon in his tea. It is a Russian fad. I never read Russiannovels. You don't expect to succeed here, do you?"
"We hope to," said Happie.
"You won't. However, your tea is passable. I shall come again. I wanta book. Come and get me one. Your sister is prettier than you, but Ilike you better. What is that girl doing at the piano? If you are goingto have music with your tea I shall never come again. How can one beexpected to digest--even a liquid--to syncopated rag-time, or possiblya fugue? Ruinous to digestion, profanation to music, execrable badtaste, this music in all eating places."
"We shall not have music here, Mrs. Jones-Dexter. My sister Laura is sofond of it that she can hardly resist the piano. I wish she would helpMargery with that party of four," said Happie involuntarily.
"Always so in every large family; one selfish one that does what shewill--sometimes it's a he!--while the others do what they must. Showme your books," said Mrs. Jones-Dexter rising. "How did you know myname?"
"Aunt Camilla--Mrs. Charleford--told us after you went out," saidHappie.
"Was that Mrs. Charleford? Are you her niece? What are you doing with atea room then?" demanded Mrs. Jones-Dexter.
"She is mother's oldest friend, but not really my aunt," said Happie."We have to have a tea room or something, Mrs. Jones-Dexter, to helpmother now that we are old enough. We have only the newest novels; I'msorry."
"I'm not. What right have you to think me a fossil?" But this time Mrs.Jones-Dexter had a glint in her eye that was not cross. She selectedthe very latest detective story, to Happie's amazement, and departed.
Happie turned back to her duties, and there, seated alone at thesmallest and most distant of the tables, was the big man of the cloakand sombrero-like hat whom the girls had noticed with aversion as helooked in at the window that morning. Polly was standing beside him ina matter-of-fact way, trying to get his attention to ask his desires,but he was unconscious of her.
Laura was playing, playing well, as she always did. The mysteriousstranger was watching and listening to her, and patient Polly wasunnoticed.
Happie walked towards the table, passing before the piano, and thusdiverted the man's eyes to Polly.
"Yes, if you please," she heard him say then. "English breakfast tea,as strong as possible. No cream, but lemon, yes. Who plays there?"
"My sister," said Polly proudly. "She sings, too, and she makes uplovely music to words she writes; poetry, you know. She's gifted."
"Poor child! What age has she?" asked the man.
"Thirteen, just," said Polly. "I'll get your tea."
"You have a queer little kindergarten tea room," remarked the singularman as Happie passed him. "I hear small feet and small voices abovestairs."
"A dancing school, but that is not ours," replied Happie. But it seemedto her that her answer fell on ears that did not hear, for there was noresponse in the melancholy face that turned again towards Laura, as thelong hand went up to the drooping moustaches and the man waited for histea.
He sat there a long time. Laura played on, at first with an eye toapplause, but after a while losing herself in her music, as she alwaysdid, and improvising, entirely forgetful of hearers. She was a puzzlingmixture to downright Happie, with her posing, her affectations,her selfishness, and yet her genuine passion for music and herextraordinary talents.
The strange man lingering so long made Margery and Happie so uneasythat Margery at last called Laura from the piano, but still he satthere, drinking so much tea that Gretta became uneasy from anothercause.
"I shouldn't leave him have it," she said with a rare relapse into herdialect, caused by extreme earnestness. "He'll get down sick for us,right here. He acts behexed."
"Oh, Gretta, what is that?" laughed Happie. "_Hexe_, a witch, inGerman,--I see! I'm not afraid of his hurting himself, but I do wishhe'd go."
After a while the man arose to his great height and slowly walked downthe room. He paused at the piano, moved one hand over the keys asthough he would have struck them, did not, put on his drooping hat,removed it instantly, turned and bowed to the young maids of the tearoom and departed.
There was a lull in business in the middle of the afternoon; it revivedbetween four and five, and at six, when Polly pulled close the curtainsof the window and locked the door, it being the hour at which Mrs.Scollard had insisted the business of the day should end, there werefive tired, but triumphant girls who drew five long breaths and lookedat one another.
"What a day!" cried Happie. "Just as busy as we could be, and look atmy fudge!"
"How can we, when it's all gone except those crumbly bits?" inquiredPolly.
"And all the books out, only those four, and they had the prettiestbindings!" added Laura.
"We never could keep it up every day like this. If we could what wouldbecome of the flat?" asked Gretta.
"Oh, well, of course it won't keep up like this! This is holiday time.If we succeed we shall have a quiet little business at other times.Let's count up!" Margery produced her cash box as she spoke, her faceflushed and excited.
She piled bills, half dollars, quarters, dimes and nickels separately,and counted the cheering heaps. "Thirty-eight dollars and sixty cents!"she cried triumphantly. "And that does not include the rent of books,for that isn't paid till they are returned. There are forty-six booksout--that makes two dollars and thirty cents more. Oh, I wonder howmuch of this is profit? My goodness, Happie, I wonder what rent we pay?"
Happie laughed. "Sure enough! Oh, it doesn't matter, not as much asforty dollars and ninety cents a day, and that's what we've takenin. To be sure there are crackers, sugar, tea, lemons, cream, candymaterials---- Well, at the worst we've made a lot."
"Polly, dear, what are you doing?" Gretta asked.
There was Polly, leaning almost into the middle of a table, pencilin hand,--wetting it often at her puckered lips,--while she set downfigures on a piece of wrapping-paper.
"Trying to see how much money we'll have a year," said this practicallittle woman of ten. "See, Happie. I multiplied $40.90 by six; that'sright, isn't it? Because we won't come down Sundays. And--oh, don'tlaugh! See if it's right. Six times ought is ought, and six times nineis fifty-four? I never feel sure of the nines. Six times ought--no,set down the five, and six times four is twenty-four. Isn't that twohundred and forty-five dollars and forty cents a week? Then how manyweeks in the year? Isn't this the way to get it?"
"It's all right, Polly-pet. The only thing is that you're countingchickens where I see only a basketful of eggs!" cried Happie. "There'sone thing certain; you've worked like a whole river bank of beavers,and done your ful
l share in making this day a success. But what asuccess it is, Margery and Gretta! Laura, play just one little waltz torelieve our feelings while we're waiting for Bob; the door's locked!"
But even as she spoke Bob rattled the door knob and Penny stampededto let him in, poor little Penny, who had been very good through atediously long afternoon.
"We're rich, Robert!" cried Happie. "It's been wonderful."
"Good for the Teasers!" Bob shouted. "Take me around to the Waldorf anddine me!"
"Well, it's begun--well begun," said Happie with a long breath as "theTeasers" emerged with Bob on the street, locked their door, and settheir faces dinnerward. But how much had begun, nor where it was toend, she little dreamed.