Mary Louise at Dorfield/Chapter 13
CHAPTER XIII
BUSINESS COMING ON
True to his determination to let no wish of Mary Louise’s go unfulfilled, Danny Dexter rigged up an elevator to the Higgledy-Piggledy Shop, so that Irene MacFarlane could go there at any time without waiting for Bob Dulaney or Danny to carry her upstairs. In days gone by there had been a dumb-waiter in the back of the old building but it had long since been abandoned because of its rusty pulleys and broken cords. This dumb-waiter shaft had been used by the shifting tenants as a receptacle for all kinds of debris. In cleaning it out before he could find room to rig up the little elevator, Danny declared there was nothing he didn’t find from broken baby carriages to old sets of false teeth. The only drawback to the elevator was that one must enter by way of the alley, but Irene insisted that made no difference whatsoever. Sometimes she came to the shop, which was not far from her home, propelling herself in her wheelchair. She would roll up the alley, which was fortunately paved and not too rough, right into the little elevator that was the exact dimensions of her chair. Then with a vigorous pull on the rope with her strong and capable hands, she would shoot to the second floor and roll out into the Higgledy-Piggledy Shop.
Her coming was always greeted with exclamations of delight by the proprietors of the shop. Clever Danny had so well rigged the little elevator that the usual groaning and squeaking of a misnamed dumb-waiter had been done away with. Her coming would be unheralded by bell or knock and she would glide from the shaft like a veritable fairy princess, so Elizabeth declared.
Irene’s part in the shop had become a very important one, so important that Josie and Elizabeth felt they could hardly do without her. The lame girl’s skill with the needle was in great demand, as one of the chief industries of the unique shop was fine mending, which was not the long suit of either Josie or Elizabeth. One of their principles in running their business, however, was that they must undertake everything that came their way and then, if they could not do it themselves, as Josie put it, they would “farm it out.”
“My, I’m glad to see you!” exclaimed Josie as Irene came gliding from the elevator into their midst. “A lot of lace to be mended and laundered has just arrived. Exquisite stuff and a hurry call. Can you spend the day and work on it for us? There will be at least three dollars in it for you.”
“Of course I can, if you will telephone Auntie,” and Irene drew from her bag her thimble and needle case and soon was at work mending the exquisite point lace that had been left at the shop only that morning by a wealthy and particular old lady. At times, where the work was very delicate, Irene made use of a magnifying glass, which was as much a part of her little sewing kit as her thimble and the very fine needles she delighted in, and the sharp scissors, no longer than her little finger, and the assortment of cotton and silk threads.
“I am going to launder the lace that does not need mending,” said Josie, getting out a diminutive tub, placing ready an ironing board and attaching her electric iron.
“And I’ll go on with my typing,” said Elizabeth. “It is manuscript from a would-be authoress who is all dashes and an occasional period when her pen seemed to be out of breath. I think I should charge extra for punctuation, don’t you, Irene?”
“Certainly,” laughed Irene, “but how would you grade your charges?”
“I’ll give a period for nothing. It is a kind of relief to make a period after such an effusion as this: ‘His flashing eye was bent on her with a look of mingled admiration and rage while in spite of the feeling of uncontrollable fear that filled her pure heart to the brim the beautiful girl first breathing a prayer to her Heavenly Father of whose watchful care she was ever conscious no matter how severe her trials and tribulations raised her sad blue eyes and looked into the bold black ones of the insinuating villain who had by his machinations brought her to this lonesome spot where he hoped to have her in his power and as she looked into those wicked orbs that seemed to Elaine very like the lonesome miasmic tarn by which she had been led on this perilous journey she felt sure of the power of good over evil and as the realization of this great truth came to her the wretch dropped his eyes and turned away.’ All this without a punctuation mark of any kind, not even a dash, except at the tail end where I have thrown in a period. I should get a tenth of a cent for every comma and at least a fifth for semicolons—they come high—and as for a colon: it is worth anything one wishes to charge. I think there is nothing so elegant as colons. They have such a knowing air.”
Irene and Josie laughed heartily at Elizabeth, who went on with her typing, occasionally reading to them choice bits from the manuscript.
“Of course, this joking can only be in the bosom of our official family,” said Elizabeth. “It would never do to get out that we make fun of our patrons.”
“And so is that what you do?” was the gay question flung at them from the door. It was Hortense Markle. “I knocked, but you were laughing so gaily and the typewriter was clicking so noisily that you did not hear.” She tripped in, laying a large package on the table.
“Come in! We are very glad to see you,” said Josie cordially, but into her eyes came the dull fishy look she could assume at will. Elizabeth spoke hospitably to their guest, moving some pamphlets from a chair to make room for her. Irene tried to bring a smile of welcome to her calm, sweet eyes, but she felt that anyone who chose to look could easily tell it was perfunctory.
“I have brought the damask napkins that you promised to launder for me,” said Hortense, untying the cord around her package. “I have just completed the initials and am anxious to have them done up, as I am sure you can do them,” smiling and bowing prettily to Josie. “It is wonderful linen, some Felix got for me the last time he was in New York. He paid untold sums for it but he knows how fond I am of beautiful linen.” She opened up the package and displayed the napkins, which were of exquisite damask of a rare and artistic pattern.
“Why, they have been laundered once,” said Irene, looking at one of the napkins with the pleasure she always felt at the touch of fine fabrics.
“Oh, yes, I often have damask washed before I embroider it. It is so much softer and more sympathetic to the needle. Does not resist it as does unlaundered linen,” explained Hortense easily.
“We have some lace on hand for to-day. Would you mind waiting until to-morrow for your napkins?” asked Josie.
“Not at all! There is no hurry.”
“I must count them and put them down on our books,” said Josie with a business-like air. “Why, there are only twenty-two here. How did you happen not to have the full two dozen?”
“Are you sure? I thought there were two dozen,” said Hortense, frowning as though trying to remember where she could have put the other napkins. “I may have left two at home.”
Josie counted again very carefully.
“Twenty-two! I hope they aren’t lost. Anyhow they aren’t lost here and that is some satisfaction for the Higgledy-Piggledies.”
Another tap at the door and in came Bob Dulaney.
“May I come in? How jolly to find all of you here!” He bowed to them all but looked at Irene when he said “all of you.” “And does the elevator work all right? I was mighty afraid Danny would slip up on the piece of work, but that fellow will tackle anything. He is a wonder for sure.”
“Yes, it works beautifully and I find it the greatest convenience. I am quite independent now and can come and go as I will.”
“How jolly it is up here! Aren’t you afraid at night, Miss O’Gorman?” asked Bob.
“Not a bit! There are too many persons tramping around overhead for me to be afraid, but I wouldn’t be afraid anyhow. I guess nobody would want to hurt me. I haven’t anything to steal as yet. Of course when we get in our rare editions that I am to sell on commission for a man in New York there will be something; also some antique jewelry and some bronzes. We may have a few small rugs soon too.”
Josie turned her dull eyes on Hortense, who had stopped chatting with Elizabeth and was listening attentively to the above conversation.
“So you are going to open up your shop in good earnest, then?” she asked. “How delightful! It’s such an interesting venture. I do hope you will succeed.”
“We are sure to if we keep on as well as we have begun,” said Josie, allowing herself the satisfaction of a little twinkle in her eye. “Business is just rolling in.”
“How much will you charge a fellow if he wants to consult your books?” asked Bob. “There is no library worthy of the name in Dorfield and when I want something very badly I am up against it.”
“Persons are supposed to ask us for information and we do the searching,” explained Josie.
“But that wouldn’t suit me at all. I like to see for myself and one bit of information suggests the advisability of another, and so on. I could spend days with your various encyclopedias just on this one article I am getting up for the Sunday supplement.”
“What is your article on?”
“Criminology! Gee, but I’d like to peek into that notebook of your father’s!” sighed Bob, who took his profession of expert reporter and writer of special articles very seriously.
Josie beckoned to Elizabeth and retiring to the back of the shop the girls held a short consultation. Coming forward, Josie said to Bob:
“My partner and I are going to make an exception in your favor, feeling as we do very grateful to you and all of Danny Dexter’s friends for their kindness to us in launching us so beautifully on our shop-keeping venture. We are going to let you come and consult our books whenever you feel like it. We’d rather not have them taken home unless it is something you find you can’t possibly finish up here in the shop.”
“But how splendid of you! I don’t deserve such a favor. I did nothing but lift bath tubs and things. I can’t accept such kindness, though, unless you let me pay regular rates for what information I pick up.”
“We are not so mercenary as all that,” said Josie, “besides we may need your muscles sometimes and would not know how to pay for them. Let’s call it a draw—fifty-fifty. We might even leave you here sometimes to keep shop for us if you’ll be good.”
“Good! I’d take in the fancy work especially well,” laughed Bob. “I hate to seem greedy, but while I’m poking among your books may I peek in the wonderful notebook?”
Josie paused a moment, turning dull eyes on Mrs. Markle, who had been listening intently to the above conversation, although she seemed to be interested solely in the lace Irene was mending. Her dark eyes were sparkling and her pretty grey suede shoe was nervously tapping the floor. None of this was lost on Josie.
“You mustn’t let me look in it if you really don’t want me to,” Bob continued. “I know it is cheeky of me to ask it.”
“But I will let you,” declared Josie. “I shouldn’t be so silly about the poor little book. You may take it home with you if you promise to take good care of it.” She took the little book from the shelves and handed it to Bob. “Keep it tied up carefully; don’t open it now. I wonder if you can decipher what is in it. I fancy it would be a tough job. Father wouldn’t mind, I am sure. He always liked newspaper chaps, as he called men of your profession, and used to get them to help him often on cases. He helped them too. He used to say they had much more sense about digging out crime and solving mysteries than the average detective. I tell you he handed over many a scoop to young reporters and got them started in their careers with fine feathers in their caps.”
“I can’t tell you how I thank you,” said Bob, taking the shabby little book reverently in his hand and putting it carefully in his breast pocket. “I’ll guard it with my life. I won’t have time to look into it for a day or so, however. And now I’ll be going. I’ll come in day after to-morrow and get my work in with your learned books. I do thank you girls more than I can say. I hope I can lift mountains for you sometime to show you how I appreciate your kindness.”
He stopped a moment to have a little talk with Irene, whose sweet face flushed with pleasure when he asked her if he might call on her that very evening. It was nice to be treated just like other girls.