by Pansy
CHAPTER VIII.
MAKING OPPORTUNITIES.
THEN began a new era in the life of the girls at South Plains Academy.They had work to do. A common interest possessed them. They had aleader; such an one as they had never known before. She was capable oforiginating and guiding. She not only knew how to talk, but how to _do_.
Committee meetings became the fashion of the day. No time now forloitering over lessons, no weary yawning behind the covers of wearisometext-books.
Promptly at four o'clock was to be a meeting of importance. Itwould be "just horrid" to be detained in the recitation-room overan imperfectly-prepared lesson, while the others hastened to MissBenedict's room, to be met with her questioning as to the where andwhy of the absent member. Mrs. Foster had never seen better work donethan went on among her girls during the weeks that followed.
There was need for committee meetings, and for almost endlessdiscussions of ways and means. The voluntary offerings were all in, andthough each had done her best, all knew that the sum total was meagerenough. Money must certainly be earned, but the grave question was, How?
"Oh, there are ways," declared Miss Benedict, with a confidence that ofitself inspired courage. "Of course, there are a good many ways; and wemust think them up. Earning money is never very easy business, and wemust begin by understanding, that as a matter of course, there is work,and disagreeable work, of some sort, in store for each one of us."
The girls, each and all, declared themselves ready for work, buttotally in the dark. They knew how to save money, the most of them,provided they could get hold of any to save; but as for earning it,they really had never earned a cent in their lives. There had been noopportunity, so they declared.
"We will make opportunities," announced the brave young leader, towhom money had hitherto flowed in an unbroken stream. But her couragewas contagious, as true courage often is, and the girls laughed,and announced themselves as ready, even to _make_ opportunities, ifsomebody would show them how.
"Let me see," said Miss Benedict; her head dropped a little to oneside, her chin resting on her hand in the attitude that she used toassume, when Dora said she was planning a house and lot for someprotege. "To begin with, there are things to be sold by agencies."
Two or three girls gravely shook their heads; one shrugged hershoulders as an evidence of dismay, not to say disgust, and RuthJennings spoke:
"Book agents! We can't do it, Miss Benedict. There are not three peoplein South Plains who ever think of buying a book. One of the creaturescanvassed the whole town last summer; was in every house within threemiles, and she sold just four books. A good book it was, too; but thepeople who had money to spare didn't want it, and the people who wantedit hadn't the money. I was never more sorry for anybody in my life thanI was for that poor girl, who wore out a pair of shoes and a pair ofgloves, and spoiled her bonnet, to say nothing of her temper. And shewas voted the greatest nuisance we ever had in this village, and thatis saying a great deal."
Miss Benedict laughed merrily. Ruth's voluble tongue always amused her.
"I don't mean books," she explained. "There are other things; forinstance, hair-pins."
The sentence closed with a little laugh, and seemed to be suggestedby the dropping of one of the gleaming things at that moment from herhair; but there was that in her voice which made the girls think therewas a real suggestion hidden in it, though they could not see how.
"Hair-pins!" repeated Ruth, in puzzled tone.
"Yes: really and truly, not metaphorically. I bought some last nightat the store in the village; the best, the clerk gravely assured me,that were to be had. Wretched things! I wore one for an hour, thenthrew it in the stove; it seemed to me that it pulled each hair ofmy head during that one hour. Look at the kind we ought to have!"Whereupon she drew the gleaming thing out again, and passed it aroundfor minute scrutiny. "Blued steel, they are, you see; that is the trademark; each one is finished to a high degree of smoothness. One who hasused a single paper of them could not be persuaded to content herselfwith any other kind. Cheap they are, too. Actually cheaper than thoseinstruments of torture I bought last night. I sent to my sister by themorning mail, to send me a box forthwith. That suggested the businessto me, I presume. There are worthless imitations, but the genuine sortcan be bought by the quantity very cheaply indeed, and a respectableprofit might be made on them until the people were supplied. Itisn't as though we were at work in a city, where women could supplythemselves without any trouble. It is a work of genuine mercy, I think,to rescue the ladies from those prongs to which they have to submit."
"Turn hair-pin pedlers!" said Mary Burton. There was a laugh on herface, but the slightest upward curve to her pretty lip. Mary felt abovethe suggestion.
Her father was a farmer, decidedly well-to-do, and owned and lived inone of the prettiest places about South Plains.
"Yes," said the millionnaire's daughter, who had lived all her life ina palatial home such as Mary Burton could not even imagine, "pedlers,if you like the name; why not? It is a good, honest business, if onekeeps good stock, and sells at honest prices.
"I like it very much better than selling cake, and flowers, andnuts, and candy, in the church, at wicked prices, in the name ofbenevolence."
There was a general laugh over this hint. South Plains had had its dayat such work as this, and those girls knew just how "wicked" the priceswere, and how questionable the ways which had been resorted to in orderto secure customers.
"I'd as soon sell hair-pins as anything else," affirmed Ruth Jennings."I would like some of them myself; we always get wretched ones down atthe corner store. But, Miss Benedict, do you believe much could be madejust out of hair-pins?"
"Not out of hair-pins alone; but there are other things, plenty ofthem; little conveniences, you know, that people do not think of, untilthey are brought to their doors, and that are so cheap, it seems a pitynot to buy them, if only for the sake of getting pleasantly rid of anuisance." This with a merry glance at Ruth.
"For instance, there are some charming little calendar cards beinggotten up for the holiday sales, on purpose for the children. Theyare mounted on an easel, and contain a Bible verse for every day inthe year, with a bit of a quotation from some good author, in verse,you know; exquisite little selections, just suited to children; oneach Sabbath the card contains the Golden Text of the Sabbath-schoollesson. They are just as pretty as possible, and retail for twentycents. I don't believe there are many mothers who could resist thetemptation of buying one for their children. But useful things, viewedfrom a practical standpoint, sell the best. I have always heard thatthe country was the place to get pies, and custards, and all such goodthings?"
"It is," said one of the girls, with a confident nod of her head. "Thisis the greatest place for pies you ever saw! I know people who have apie of some sort for breakfast, dinner and supper. No use in trying tostart a bakery here. People all make their own, and plenty of it."
Miss Benedict looked her satisfaction.
"Then there are plenty of burnt fingers, I am sure. Nettie, my dear,you said you helped your mother on Saturday, which I suppose isbaking-day. How many times have you blistered your poor little fingerstrying to lift out a hot and heavy pie from the oven?"
"More times than I should think of trying to count; and, for thatmatter, I have done a great deal worse than to burn my fingers. Onlylast Saturday I tipped a pumpkin pie upside down on the floor; mother'sclean floor, it had just been mopped. The tin was hot, you see, andthe cloth slipped somehow, so that my bare fingers came right on thehottest part, and I just squealed, and dropped the whole thing. Oh,such a mess!"
"Precisely," said Miss Benedict, looking unsympathetically pleased withthe story. "I have no doubt that we should find quite a noble army ofmartyrs among you in that very line, or among your mothers; you girlswould be more likely to 'squeal and drop it,' as Nettie has said. Butnow I want to know what is to hinder us from being benefactors to ourrace, and earning an honest penny in the bargain, by se
nding for abox full of pie-lifters, and offering one to every housekeeper inSouth Plains? They are cheap, and I don't believe many pie-bakers wouldrefuse one."
"Pie-lifters!" "I never heard of such an institution." "What in theworld are they?" Three questioning voices.
"Oh, just ingenious little pieces of iron, so contrived that they willopen and shut like an old-fashioned pair of tongs, only much moregracefully; they adjust themselves to the size of the tin, or plate,and close firmly, so that even a novice can lift the hottest pumpkinpie that ever bubbled, and set it with composure and complacency on thetable at her leisure."
"I should think they would be splendid!"
This, in varying phraseology, was the general vote.
"Then I'll tell you of one of the greatest nuisances out. Look here!Did you ever see a more starched-up linen cuff than this is?"
The girls looked admiringly. No; they never did. It shone with a lovelypolish, the means of securing which was unknown to the most domesticof them.
"Well," explained Miss Benedict, "it isn't linen at all. By the way, Iam trying to economize in laundry work. It is nothing but paper, butwith such a good linen finish that nobody ever discovers it, and theyanswer every purpose. I find they don't keep them at the corner store,and your young gentleman friends would like them, I am sure. They canbe had at the factory very reasonably, indeed. I shouldn't wonder ifwe would better invest in some. But that was not what I started out tosay. When you get a pair of cuffs nicely laundried, so that they arestiff and shining, how do you enjoy struggling with them to get thecuff button in, or to get it out--especially if you are in a hurry?"
This query produced much merriment among two of the girls, which theelder sister presently explained:
"You ought to ask that question of our brother Dick. He does have themost trying times with his cuff buttons. He wants his cuffs so stiffthey can almost walk alone, and then he fusses and struggles to get thebuttons in so as not to break the cuff. He is just at the age, MissBenedict, to be very particular about such things, and sometimes hegets into such a rage. Last Sunday he split one of his buttons in halfa dozen pieces tugging at it. I tried to help him, but I couldn't getthe thing in; they are a dreadful nuisance."
"Ah, but look at this." A sudden, dexterous movement, and the buttonwas standing perpendicularly across the button-hole, and could beslipped in or out with perfect ease.
The girls looked and admired and exclaimed. They had never seen such acontrivance.
"But they are very expensive, are they not?" This question came fromthe ever-practical Ruth.
Miss Benedict readjusted her cuff with a sudden quivering of the lip,as a rush of memories swept over her. Those heavy gold cuff buttons,with their rare and delicate designs, had been among her father'sgifts, less than a year ago.
"These are rather so," she said presently, struggling to keep her voicesteady, "but the device for opening and shutting is introduced intoplain buttons, which can be had for twenty-five cents a set; and Ithink they are a great comfort especially to young men."
This is only a hint of the talk. It was continued at several meetings,and plans at last were perfected, and orders made out and sent to thecity for a dozen or more useful articles, none of them bulky, all ofthem cheap. The arrangement was, that each young lady should take hershare of the articles, keep her individual account, and thenceforth goarmed; hair-pins and cuff buttons in her pocket, ready, as opportunityoffered, to suggest to a friend the advisability of making a desirablepurchase. If she went to a neighbor's of an errand, she was in dutybound to take a pie-lifter under her shawl, and describe its merits.Did she meet a reasonably-indulgent mother, out were to come the prettycalendar cards, and the agent thereof was to hold herself prepared todescant eloquently on their beauties. Thus, through the whole stock intrade.
As for the "nuisance" part, of course it would be a good deal of anuisance, and a good deal of a cross; especially when they met withsurly people who did not even know how to _refuse_ politely. But asworkers enlisted for the war, they were to be ready to bear suchcrosses, always endeavoring to carry on their work on strictly businessprinciples; to descend to no urging or unlady-like pressure, but simplyto courteously offer their goods at honest prices; if, after sucheffort, they received replies that were hard to bear, they must justbear them for the sake of the cause. Thus decreed the heroic leader;adding, by way of emphasis, that all ways of earning money had theirunpleasant side she supposed, and all workers had moments in whichtheir work could only be looked upon in the light of a cross. _Would_those girls ever know what a cross it had been to her, Claire Benedict,to come to South Plains and teach them music? This part she _thought_.Such crosses were not to be brought out to be talked about. Hers wasconnected with such a heavy one, that it would bear mentioning only toHim who "carried her sorrows."
