The Pleasant Street Partnership Part 3

"It is the funniest little place I ever saw," answered Alex. "I suppose it is not nice to have shops springing up in the neighborhood, but--sometimes I wish I were going to keep a shop."

"My dear! I trust you will never have to do that."

"Haven't you ever felt that you would like to be doing something?--to be in things--part of the real working world?" Alexina spoke with fervor.

"I never wanted to keep a shop, I am sure," answered Miss Wilbur.

CHAPTER FIFTH

THE SHOP

James Mandeville did not forget the pretty young lady who said she was coming to be his neighbor if they would give her a fireplace. He had kept an eye on the shop all summer, and he knew there was a fireplace.

He saw plasterers, carpenters, and painters come and go as he rode back and forth on his velocipede at a rate of speed altogether out of proportion to the effort put forth by his plump legs, bare and brown above his socks. From beneath the brim of his old sailor hat he looked on with solemn intentness. He was on excellent terms with the workmen, and often carried home a whole armful of treasures--odd-shaped pieces of wood, curly shavings, and bits of tile.

At length all was done; the square of lawn on the Terrace side was sodded, and from the street in front of the shop all the debris was carried away. Surely, she would come now!

Some rainy days followed, and when the weather permitted James Mandeville and his velocipede to be abroad again, the place showed unmistakable signs of occupancy. There were muslin curtains in the upstairs windows, and, peeping in through the gla.s.s door of the shop, he saw packing-boxes. At another time a woman stood on the curbstone buying vegetables from a wagon, but she was far removed from the lady of his dreams. His heart fell.

The door of the shop stood open the next time he pa.s.sed. James Mandeville halted, letting one foot slip along the pavement as a brake. Under his left arm, pressed close to his linen blouse, was a tin horn. At this moment a lady came to the door and looked out. She was not the lady of the fireplace,--a glance told him that,--yet she was quite different from the one who bought vegetables. She was tall and dark, and wore unbecoming smoked gla.s.ses. She took no notice of him, but turned and went back into the shop. James Mandeville dismounted and followed.

The packing-cases had been removed, and the suns.h.i.+ne that streamed in above the sheet tacked across the lower part of the west window lighted up a scene of cheerful disorder, pervading which was a pleasant odor of newness. With her back toward him, the lady began to measure off lengths of some green fabric, standing before a long table.

He waited, but still she took no notice. Should he go away? He summoned all his courage and gave voice to the question that was asking itself in his own mind: "Where is she?"

The lady turned in surprise and looked down upon him. If he could have expressed his feelings, he would have said she was a haughty person.

But as she looked at him her manner changed, and she smiled as she asked, "What is it? I don't understand."

James Mandeville struggled to reply, but words were hard to find. As he stood silent a voice behind him cried, "Why, if it isn't Infinitesimal James!" and there she was, with her s.h.i.+ning hair and laughing eyes. He laughed, too, for very relief.

"There's a fireplace," he announced, going to meet her. "I saw them make it."

"So you knew I would come back, didn't you? Yes, it is a very nice fireplace, and will be all ready for a visit from Santa Claus," she replied, shaking hands. Then quite unexpectedly she picked him up and set him on the table among the waves of green stuff. "Now you look like Triton," she said.

James Mandeville held fast to his horn and eyed his captor doubtfully, as if he had a mind to escape.

"Do you remember my name? I am Miss Norah, and I want to introduce you to my partner, who is almost as nice as I am. She is Miss Marion."

The other young lady smiled. "Do you believe in blowing your own horn, as Miss Norah does?" she asked.

James Mandeville looked at his horn, and then at the speaker; but as he did not understand, he made no reply.

"She asks foolish questions, doesn't she?" said Miss Norah. "As you are the first neighbor to call on us, you shall not be required to answer. You may help me trim the show window, if you like."

James Mandeville wriggled out from among the green waves. "What are you going to keep in your store?" he asked.

The reply was disappointing. "Why don't you keep candy?" was the next question.

"Because Miss Marion would give it all away, and we shouldn't be able to make a living."

"Would you?" he asked, turning to that lady with earnest eyes.

Clearly, she might be worth cultivating.

She laughed and left the room for a moment, returning with something in her hand wrapped in silver paper. "Do you like chocolate?" she inquired; adding, "I don't know how it would be if I kept it; but as I don't keep it, of course I give it away."

This had a puzzling sound. James Mandeville almost forgot to say thank you. He decided to go, feeling he could better enjoy the chocolate alone. He edged toward the door.

"Good-by," called Miss Norah. "Come again."

"All right," said James Mandeville, and disappeared from the scene.

After his departure all was quiet in the shop for a time, except for the occasional sound of Norah's hammer as she worked in the window.

Marion was putting things away in the cases which stood against the wall. It was she who first spoke.

"I wonder if we shall have any customers?"

"That is reflection upon my skill as a decorator. Do you think the public can resist the display which is about to dawn upon it on the morrow?" was Norah's reply.

Marion left her work and sat on the window ledge. Norah wore a blue dress and a large white ap.r.o.n, and as she stood to drive a tack, the suns.h.i.+ne sparkled in her hair. She looked the incarnation of cheerful industry.

"I do not know that I altogether believe in show windows," Marion said, smiling up at her friend.

"Of course not. It is all of a piece with your haughty reserve. Let me remind you that after we have made a success and have a name we can retire into our sh.e.l.l and become the sought rather than the seeker, but at present it is needful to catch the public eye. You have imbibed your ideas from the rich Miss Carpenter, but _we_ have our living to make." She drove her tack with emphasis, then sat down on the floor of the window. "I am not sure I shall not always like this way best,"

she continued. "Think, if there were no show windows at Christmas!

Marion, think of Christmas!"

"Isn't it a little early? There is a good deal to be done between now and then." Marion spoke calmly.

Norah tossed a ball of twine at her. "I see it will be by the hardest work if I get any fun out of life. But to resume my train of thought which you interrupted--"

"I beg your pardon, you interrupted yourself."

"Did I? Well, to resume, at any rate: my idea is that it will be much nicer to keep a shop which will attract both great and small, so to speak. To make a specialty always of nice, simple things."

"Flannelette?" suggested Marion.

"Why not? It is a useful fabric."

"I foresee if we enter into a discussion of this momentous question your window will not be finished, and I own to some curiosity as to how you mean to attract the great, for instance."

Marion returned to her baskets, and there was silence again for a time.

"Your idea of the bookcases was a happy one," she said presently, standing back to view her work. "These baskets have the air of a collection of curios behind the gla.s.s."

"A charming touch of color against our olive walls. Confess, did you ever have such a good time in your life?"