Part 23 (2/2)

”They're none of them missing, though,” laughed Constance, holding up the pretty tapering fingers to prove her words.

”Then give me my candies, quick! I can't wait another minute. You can almost see my mouth water like my old hunting dog's.”

”Which kind will you have Mr. Porter?”

”_All_ kinds of course!”

”Not really?”

”Yes, _really_. Do you think I'm going to miss any of the treat?

Biggest boxes, please.”

Constance lifted from the case a pound box of each variety.

”How much?” asked Mr. Porter.

”Why nothing to _you_? How _could_ I?” she asked, coloring at the thought of accepting more from him.

”Now see here, young lady, that won't do. You can't begin _that_ way.

Your business has got to be spot cash. Don't forget that, or you'll get into difficulties,” said her customer with a warning nod of his head.

”As near as I can make out Mr. Porter, it's just the other way about; I'm getting my cash in advance. Now please listen to me,” said Constance very seriously, an appealing look in her expressive eyes.

”You have done a great deal for me in arranging this booth so attractively, and encouraging me in every way. In addition to that you have 'taken stock,' as you call it, in the venture. Very well, _I_ call it simply advancing capital. Now I shall never feel at ease until that sum is paid off, and one way for me to do it is to let you have all the candy you want. No--wait a minute; I haven't finished,” as Mr.

Porter raised his hand in protest. ”If you will promise to come to the booth for all the candy you want, I will charge you just the same for it as I charge the others, but it must go toward canceling my obligation _so far as money_ can cancel it. Now, _please_, say yes, and make my opening day a very happy one for me. Otherwise I shall have to refuse to let you have _any_ candy until I have paid back the hundred dollars. Isn't that right and fair, Mammy?” she asked, turning to look into the kind old face beside her.

”Hits jist de fa'r an' squar' livin' truf. Hit suah is, Ma.s.sa Potah.

Ain' no gittin' roun' dat. We-all cyant tek no mo' 'vestments 'dout we gibs somepin fer ter mak hit right. Miss Constance, know what she a-sayin'.”

The gay bandanna nodded vigorously to emphasize this statement.

Mr. Porter looked at them for a moment, and then broke into a hearty laugh.

”I give it up!” he cried. ”Have it your own way, but if I eat sweets until I lose all my teeth, upon your heads be the blame. It isn't every man who has a hundred dollars worth to pick from as he chooses.”

”_You_ won't have very long, because I expect to pay back in more ways than just candies,” cried Constance, merrily.

”But you surely don't want _all_ that?” she added, laying her hands upon the seven boxes lying upon the counter.

”Yes, I do! My soul, if she isn't trying to do me out of my own purchases. Here, young lady, give me those boxes. I want them right in my own hands before you have some new protest to put forth,” and hastily piling his seven pounds of candy upon his arm, Mr. Porter fled for the elevator, leaving Mammy and Constance to laugh at his speedy departure.

At length all was arranged, the booth with its array of dainty boxes making a brave display.

Constance and Mammy stood for a moment looking at it before taking their departure, well pleased with the result of their undertaking.

Then with a pleasant good morning to Miss Willing, whose eyes and ears had been more than busy during the past hour, they departed, leaving the little candy booth, its cash box, and its very unusual announcement upon the sign which swung above it, to prove or disprove the faith which one young girl felt in her fellow beings.

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