The Pleasant Street Partnership | Page 9

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 apron, and as she stood to drive a tack, the sunshine 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 shell 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 glass."
"A charming touch of color against our olive walls. Confess, did you ever have such a good time in your life?"
"My enthusiasm is sprouting vigorously."
"And the fun is only just beginning. But do come here--quick, Marion! I want you to see Giant Despair."
A tall, heavily built old man was passing along Pleasant Street, his brows drawn together in a tremendous frown. He swung a stout walking-stick in his right hand, as if he would have been pleased to lay it over somebody's shoulders. At the corner he paused and looked back at the shop.
"Did you see? He shook his fist!" cried Norah.
"Have we an enemy?" asked Marion.
CHAPTER SIXTH
IN THE EYES OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD
Its isolation in the heart of the city had something to do, no doubt, with certain village-like customs that prevailed in the Terrace. The neighbors ran in upon one another with their needlework for a social afternoon. If Alexina or Madelaine Russell were going to a party, there was sure to be an audience of two or three waiting to see them after they were dressed. When the Leigh's cook, Aunt Minty, made jumbles, a plateful always found its way over the back fence to Miss Virginia Wilbur; and when the Wilburs had something particularly nice for dessert, some neighbor had a share of it. Judge Russell and Mr. Goodman played chess together and talked of old times, and on the whole friendliness prevailed, with only an occasional neighborly tiff, when perhaps some one was heard to wish that Caroline Millard would mind her own business. There were other occasions when Mrs. Millard's executive ability proved helpful and was warmly appreciated.
The strenuous life had not as yet invaded the Terrace. Mrs. Millard, to be sure, belonged to the Woman's Club, and presided at various board meetings, but she was the exception.
The Terrace had its problems. We know Miss Virginia's; but Alexina, not suspecting it, watching her in church on Sundays, wished she herself were middle-aged and had all her troublesome questions answered, for at forty-eight one must have solved life's problems, Alex thought.
Madelaine only wanted money to gratify her taste for pretty things. Given plenty of money, and life would be a simple matter. And so it seemed to Miss Sarah Leigh, always cheery, yet always burdened with the doubt where next month's bread and butter were to come from, and