The Pleasant Street Partnership | Page 7

Mrs. Millard were of little interest to her; she began to feel useless and unhappy. She was a failure. Life had somehow slipped by unawares. She felt old at forty-eight.
Above everything she disliked change, and the sale of the corner lot and the building of the shop caused her many a pang. In the midst of all this disquietude Mr. Landor's letter arrived.
"I have most agreeable recollections of your home," he wrote, "and I realize I am asking a good deal of you, for our little niece is a somewhat tumultuous person. She has suffered from both over indulgence and neglect. She needs a different atmosphere, and much in the way of training that her old guardian cannot give her, so he ventures for Helen's sake to ask if you will take charge of her daughter for a few years."
This half sister, twelve years younger than herself, had come and gone like some happy dream in Miss Virginia's life. She had grown up under the care of her grandmother, almost a stranger in her father's house, to which she returned in her gay young girlhood, and for the one time in her experience Miss Wilbur had been swept into a whirl of gayety as Helen's chaperon. Her charge had married early, and after a few years went abroad with her husband and little girl in search of health she was never to find.
The thought of Helen's child aroused memories both bright and sorrowful, but at least here was an opportunity to be useful again. It would be pleasant to have a child in the house, Miss Virginia thought, studying the photograph of Charlotte at seven, bright-eyed and demure.
The tall, well-grown girl had been a surprise to her aunts. Her assured manner and pronounced style of dress were not exactly what one desired in a girl of fourteen. At sight of her Miss Virginia had been seized with a fit of shyness; in consequence the reins had been taken by Mrs. Millard, who was not shy and was, besides, a born manager.
Miss Virginia felt a sympathy for Charlotte, even while disapproving of her; she felt her sister to be too peremptory. In the matter of the novel it would have been better to allow Charlotte to finish it, with the understanding that it was to be the last. What could be more aggravating than to have to give up a story with only two-thirds of it read? It was an interesting story, too. Miss Virginia herself sat up till midnight to finish it. Some time perhaps she would tell Charlotte the end. Then she reminded herself that this would never do.
It was no use talking to Caroline, and yet Mr. Landor had asked her to take charge of Charlotte, and Caroline had no right to assume command. Miss Virginia wished they had not agreed to take the child.
She paced back and forth on the front porch one afternoon, thinking of all this and of the peaceful days of the past, feeling that dulness was better than problems like these. Across Pleasant Street was the little shop already showing signs of habitation. As she stood idly with her hand on the rail, a boy came up the walk and handed her what at first glance she thought was a note, but it proved on investigation to be an announcement.
THE PLEASANT STREET SHOP WILL OPEN WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER SECOND
Dainty Turnovers Pretty Draperies Ribbons Bright Chintzes Baskets Pottery Needles and Pins and Other Small Matters A Specialty.
"How absurd!" thought Miss Virginia. "A shop of this sort in the Terrace!"
"Have you heard about the new shop, Miss Virginia?" called Alexina Russell from the gate.
Miss Wilbur held up the card. "I am just reading the announcement. Who can be starting it? and isn't it too bad?" As she spoke, she descended the steps and joined the young girl.
"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