Part 9 (2/2)

”Noodle soup!” she used to say, almost lyrically.

”With real hand-made, egg noodles! You don't know what it means. You haven't been eating vermicelli soup all through Illinois and Wisconsin.”

”We've made a dessert, though, that--”

”Molly Brandeis, don't you dare to tell me what you've got for dessert.

I couldn't stand it. But, oh, suppose, SUPPOSE it's homemade strawberry shortcake!”

Which it more than likely was.

f.a.n.n.y Brandeis used to think that she would dress exactly as Mrs.

McChesney dressed, if she too were a successful business woman earning a man-size salary. Mrs. McChesney was a blue serge sort of woman--and her blue serge never was s.h.i.+ny in the back. Her collar, or jabot, or tie, or cuffs, or whatever relieving bit of white she wore, was always of the freshest and crispest. Her hats were apt to be small and full of what is known as ”line.” She usually would try to arrange her schedule so as to spend a Sunday in Winnebago, and the three alert, humor-loving women, grown wise and tolerant from much contact with human beings, would have a delightful day together.

”Molly,” Mrs. McChesney would say, when they were comfortably settled in the living-room, or on the front porch, ”with your shrewdness, and experience, and brains, you ought to be one of those five or ten thousand a year buyers. You know how to sell goods and handle people.

And you know values. That's all there is to the whole game of business.

I don't advise you to go on the road. Heaven knows I wouldn't advise my dearest enemy to do that, much less a friend. But you could do bigger things, and get bigger results. You know most of the big wholesalers, and retailers too. Why don't you speak to them about a department position? Or let me nose around a bit for you.”

Molly Brandeis shook her head, though her expressive eyes were eager and interested. ”Don't you think I've thought of that, Emma? A thousand times? But I'm--I'm afraid. There's too much at stake. Suppose I couldn't succeed? There's Theodore. His whole future is dependent on me for the next few years. And there's f.a.n.n.y here. No, I guess I'm too old.

And I'm sure of the business here, small as it is.”

Emma McChesney glanced at the girl. ”I'm thinking that f.a.n.n.y has the making of a pretty capable business woman herself.”

f.a.n.n.y drew in her breath sharply, and her face sparkled into sudden life, as always when she was tremendously interested.

”Do you know what I'd do if I were in Mother's place? I'd take a great, big running jump for it and land! I'd take a chance. What is there for her in this town? Nothing! She's been giving things up all her life, and what has it brought her?”

”It has brought me a comfortable living, and the love of my two children, and the respect of my townspeople.”

”Respect? Why shouldn't they respect you? You're the smartest woman in Winnebago, and the hardest working.”

Emma McChesney frowned a little, in thought. ”What do you two girls do for recreation?”

”I'm afraid we have too little of that, Emma. I know f.a.n.n.y has. I'm so dog-tired at the end of the day. All I want is to take my hairpins out and go to bed.”

”And f.a.n.n.y?”

”Oh, I read. I'm free to pick my book friends, at least.”

”Now, just what do you mean by that, child? It sounds a little bitter.”

”I was thinking of what Chesterfield said in one of his Letters to His Son. 'Choose always to be in the society of those above you,' he wrote.

I guess he lived in Winnebago, Wisconsin. I'm a working woman, and a Jew, and we haven't any money or social position. And unless she's a Becky Sharp any small town girl with all those handicaps might as well choose a certain constellation of stars in the sky to wear as a breastpin, as try to choose the friends she really wants.”

From Molly Brandeis to Emma McChesney there flashed a look that said, ”You see?” And from Emma McChesney to Molly Brandeis another that said, ”Yes; and it's your fault.”

”Look here, f.a.n.n.y, don't you see any boys--men?”

”No. There aren't any. Those who have any sense and initiative leave to go to Milwaukee, or Chicago, or New York. Those that stay marry the banker's lovely daughter.”

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