"Well, my aspiring daughter, and which will be your choice?"

"Both; one for the sake of the other. It is this way; I want to go to Smith. It is the best place for me, and I do want to go more than you've any idea. You don't disapprove, do you?"

"Not if it can be arranged," he answered thoughtfully. "But what has started you on this so suddenly, Teddy?"

"It isn't so sudden as it seems; but I didn't want to talk about it too soon. You see, mamma and Mrs. Farrington both are college women, and their talk makes me half wild to go. Billy goes, next year, and I shall be all ready to enter at the same time. Should you mind very much?"

"I should hate to lose you for four long years, Ted."

"That's only a little while, and there are vacations and things, you know. That is only one side. The other is the expense, and that's what worries me. Hubert will be ready, the year after, and you can't afford to send us both."

"It would be a tug; but it might be done," Dr. McAlister said thoughtfully. "Besides, I'm not at all sure that Hu will care to go. If you are more anxious for college than he, you ought to have the chance."

"He must go if he wants to," she responded energetically. "I've set my heart on his going. He's a boy, too, and should have first chance, if he wants it. It is more necessary for a boy. But what if I were to begin to save up my money for my expenses, so I could pay part? Then may I go?"

"How? You don't seem to me to be rolling in wealth, Teddy."

She shook her head gayly.

"Oh, but you don't know. That's where the business part comes in."

The doctor looked rather anxious.

"What is it now, Ted?"

"It's Mr. Huntington, down in the book store. He has sent off his book-keeper, and he wants somebody to come in, every Sat.u.r.day morning, to write up his accounts and things. Every month, it's all day, and he pays ever so much for it."

"But can you do it? Will he take you?"

She nodded.

"You don't know how valuable I am, papa. Mr. Huntington is a dear old man. I heard about it and went to see him. He made me write for him and do some accounts in a hurry; and he told me to come back, last Sat.u.r.day, to try. To-day he told me I could have the place, if I'd only make my _m_'s and _n_'s and _u_'s not so much alike." Theodora laughed gleefully at her father's astonished face.

There was a pause, while the doctor reflected rapidly. Theodora was very young to enter into any such venture as this, and there was no real need of her doing anything of the kind. On the other hand, her father approved of business habits for women; he liked her independence and spirit, and he felt that it would be well for her to learn the real value of money. He knew Mr. Huntington well. His store was a quiet, homelike place, where Theodora could be brought under no demoralizing influences, where she would be likely to meet only refined, book-loving people. If she must try her experiment, this would be an ideal place for the attempt.

Theodora eyed him askance, trying to read his thoughts. Even before he spoke, she knew his decision, and she seized him by the beard and kissed him rapturously.

"Oh, you dear man!"

"But I haven't said yes," he protested.

"You are going to; your eyes show it. Oh, Papa McAlister, you are such a dear!"

"Am I? Well, my girl, you shall have your way. All in all, I think your little plan has no harm in it. I was thinking of something else, though."

"Oh, what?"

He smiled at her disappointed face.

"Nothing bad. It is only this. If your courage holds out, and if you cultivate that crazy handwriting of yours a little, perhaps when Sullivan goes to Boston, next fall, I'll see what you can do with my bills. I can't pay as well as Mr. Huntington; but it may help on a little."

"Oh, papa!"

Ten minutes later, Theodora looked up into her father's face. Her own face was flushed, and her lips were unsteady.

"There's something else, papa."

"What now, my girl?"

She drew a letter from her pocket.

"It's not much, only a little bit of a beginning. n.o.body knows it, and I wanted to tell you first."

He took the letter, opened it with a feigned curiosity, more to gratify her whim than from any real interest in what it could contain. He read it, glanced at the slip of paper it enclosed, then bent over and kissed her scarlet cheek.

"My girlie, I congratulate you."

It was a letter from a well-known magazine for children, accepting a story from Miss Theodora McAlister, and suggesting that another story of equal merit might find a welcome, later on in the season.

For the next three weeks, Theodora kept the secret of her experiment to herself.

"It's all right. Papa knows," was all the reply she could be induced to make to the questions which a.s.sailed her from all sides, in regard to the way she was spending her Sat.u.r.day mornings.

It would be impossible to say how long the mystery would have been kept up if she had had her own way. One Sat.u.r.day noon, however, Phebe came bouncing into the dining-room, her eyes blazing with righteous indignation and injured pride.

"Theodora McAlister, I'm ashamed of you, perfectly ashamed!"

"You've said so before," Theodora answered tranquilly, while she went on eating her dinner. "What is it, this time?"

"You've gone into a store." Phebe's tone was one of scathing scorn.

"Yes. What of it?"

"My sister a clerk in a common store!"

"Yes, in Huntington's."

"But it might have been a grocery."

"It might have been an undertaker's," Theodora answered sharply. "I don't see what difference it makes to you."

"Is this really true, Teddy?" Mrs. McAlister questioned.

Theodora glanced about her at the astonished faces of her family.

Surprise and disapproval seemed to be meeting her on every hand. Even Allyn stopped eating his bread and milk, and pointed his spoon at her accusingly. Then she turned to her father, who was entering the room.

"Phebe has just found out about Huntington's, papa," she said, with brave dignity. "Are you willing to tell them how it happened, and why I did it?"