Then Mrs. Blake gave them facts and figures, showing how much clubhouses cost--and how little this arrangement would cost. "Most women have very little money, I know," she said, "and they hate to spend it on themselves when they have; but even a little money from each goes a long way when it is put together. I fancy there are none of us so poor we could not squeeze out, say ten cents a week. For a hundred women that would be ten dollars. Could you feed a hundred tired women for ten dollars, Mrs. Morrison?"
Mrs. Morrison smiled cordially. "Not on chicken pie," she said, "But I could give them tea and coffee, crackers and cheese for that, I think.
And a quiet place to rest, and a reading room, and a place to hold meetings."
Then Mrs. Blake quite swept them off their feet by her wit and eloquence. She gave them to understand that if a share in the palatial accommodation of the Welcome House, and as good tea and coffee as old Sally made, with a place to meet, a place to rest, a place to talk, a place to lie down, could be had for ten cents a week each, she advised them to clinch the arrangement at once before Mrs. Morrison"s natural good sense had overcome her enthusiasm.
Before Mrs. Isabelle Carter Blake had left, Haddleton had a large and eager women"s club, whose entire expenses, outside of stationary and postage, consisted of ten cents a week _per capita,_ paid to Mrs.
Morrison. Everybody belonged. It was open at once for charter members, and all pressed forward to claim that privileged place.
They joined by hundreds, and from each member came this tiny sum to Mrs.
Morrison each week. It was very little money, taken separately. But it added up with silent speed. Tea and coffee, purchased in bulk, crackers by the barrel, and whole cheeses--these are not expensive luxuries. The town was full of Mrs. Morrison"s ex-Sunday-school boys, who furnished her with the best they had--at cost. There was a good deal of work, a good deal of care, and room for the whole supply of Mrs. Morrison"s diplomatic talent and experience. Sat.u.r.days found the Welcome House as full as it could hold, and Sundays found Mrs. Morrison in bed. But she liked it.
A busy, hopeful year flew by, and then she went to Jean"s for Thanksgiving.
The room Jean gave her was about the same size as her haven in Andrew"s home, but one flight higher up, and with a sloping ceiling. Mrs.
Morrison whitened her dark hair upon it, and rubbed her head confusedly.
Then she shook it with renewed determination.
The house was full of babies. There was little Joe, able to get about, and into everything. There were the twins, and there was the new baby.
There was one servant, over-worked and cross. There was a small, cheap, totally inadequate nursemaid. There was Jean, happy but tired, full of joy, anxiety and affection, proud of her children, proud of her husband, and delighted to unfold her heart to her mother.
By the hour she babbled of their cares and hopes, while Mrs. Morrison, tall and elegant in her well-kept old black silk, sat holding the baby or trying to hold the twins. The old silk was pretty well finished by the week"s end. Joseph talked to her also, telling her how well he was getting on, and how much he needed capital, urging her to come and stay with them; it was such a help to Jeannie; asking questions about the house.
There was no going visiting here. Jeannie could not leave the babies.
And few visitors; all the little suburb being full of similarly overburdened mothers. Such as called found Mrs. Morrison charming.
What she found them, she did not say. She bade her daughter an affectionate good-bye when the week was up, smiling at their mutual contentment.
"Good-bye, my dear children," she said. "I am so glad for all your happiness. I am thankful for both of you."
But she was more thankful to get home.
Mr. b.u.t.ts did not have to call for his interest this time, but he called none the less.
"How on earth"d you get it, Delia?" he demanded. "Screwed it out o"
these club-women?"
"Your interest is so moderate, Mr. b.u.t.ts, that it is easier to meet than you imagine," was her answer. "Do you know the average interest they charge in Colorado? The women vote there, you know."
He went away with no more personal information than that; and no nearer approach to the twin goals of his desire than the pa.s.sing of the year.
"One more year, Delia," he said; "then you"ll have to give in."
"One more year!" she said to herself, and took up her chosen task with renewed energy.
The financial basis of the undertaking was very simple, but it would never have worked so well under less skilful management. Five dollars a year these country women could not have faced, but ten cents a week was possible to the poorest. There was no difficulty in collecting, for they brought it themselves; no unpleasantness in receiving, for old Sally stood at the receipt of custom and presented the covered cash box when they came for their tea.
On the crowded Sat.u.r.days the great urns were set going, the mighty array of cups arranged in easy reach, the ladies filed by, each taking her refection and leaving her dime. Where the effort came was in enlarging the membership and keeping up the attendance, and this effort was precisely in the line of Mrs. Morrison"s splendid talents.
Serene, cheerful, inconspicuously active, planning like the born statesman she was, executing like a practical politician, Mrs. Morrison gave her mind to the work, and thrived upon it. Circle within circle, and group within group, she set small cla.s.ses and departments at work, having a boys" club by and by in the big room over the woodshed, girls"
clubs, reading clubs, study clubs, little meetings of every sort that were not held in churches, and some that were--previously.
For each and all there was, if wanted, tea and coffee, crackers and cheese; simple fare, of unvarying excellence, and from each and all, into the little cashbox, ten cents for these refreshments. From the club members this came weekly; and the club members, kept up by a constant variety of interests, came every week. As to numbers, before the first six months was over The Haddleton Rest and Improvement Club numbered five hundred women.
Now, five hundred times ten cents a week is twenty-six hundred dollars a year. Twenty-six hundred dollars a year would not be very much to build or rent a large house, to furnish five hundred people with chairs, lounges, books, and magazines, dishes and service; and with food and drink even of the simplest. But if you are miraculously supplied with a club-house, furnished, with a manager and servant on the spot, then that amount of money goes a long way.
On Sat.u.r.days Mrs. Morrison hired two helpers for half a day, for half a dollar each. She stocked the library with many magazines for fifty dollars a year. She covered fuel, light, and small miscellanies with another hundred. And she fed her mult.i.tude with the plain viands agreed upon, at about four cents apiece.
For her collateral entertainments, her many visits, the various new expenses entailed, she paid as well; and yet at the end of the first year she had not only her interest, but a solid thousand dollars of clear profit. With a calm smile she surveyed it, heaped in neat stacks of bills in the small safe in the wall behind her bed. Even Sally did not know it was there.
The second season was better than the first. There were difficulties, excitements, even some opposition, but she rounded out the year triumphantly. "After that," she said to herself, "they may have the deluge if they like."
She made all expenses, made her interest, made a little extra cash, clearly her own, all over and above the second thousand dollars.
Then did she write to son and daughter, inviting them and their families to come home to Thanksgiving, and closing each letter with joyous pride: "Here is the money to come with."
They all came, with all the children and two nurses. There was plenty of room in the Welcome House, and plenty of food on the long mahogany table. Sally was as brisk as a bee, brilliant in scarlet and purple; Mrs. Morrison carved her big turkey with queenly grace.
"I don"t see that you"re over-run with club women, mother," said Jeannie.
"It"s Thanksgiving, you know; they"re all at home. I hope they are all as happy, as thankful for their homes as I am for mine," said Mrs.
Morrison.
Afterward Mr. b.u.t.ts called. With dignity and calm unruffled, Mrs.
Morrison handed him his interest--and princ.i.p.al.
Mr. b.u.t.ts was almost loath to receive it, though his hand automatically grasped the crisp blue check.
"I didn"t know you had a bank account," he protested, somewhat dubiously.
"Oh, yes; you"ll find the check will be honored, Mr. b.u.t.ts."
"I"d like to know how you got this money. You _can"t_ "a" skinned it out o" that club of yours."
"I appreciate your friendly interest, Mr. b.u.t.ts; you have been most kind."
"I believe some of these great friends of yours have lent it to you.
You won"t be any better off, I can tell you."
"Come, come, Mr. b.u.t.ts! Don"t quarrel with good money. Let us part friends."
And they parted.
HOW DOTH THE HAT
How doth the hat loom large upon her head!
Furred like a busby; plumed as hea.r.s.es are; Armed with eye-spearing quills; bewebbed and hung With lacy, silky, downy draperies; With spread, wide-waggling feathers fronded high In bosky thickets of Cimmerian gloom.