"Buy some candy?" said Katy to the first gentleman she met.
He did not even deign to glance at her; and five or six attempts to sell a stick of candy were failures; but when she remembered the success that had followed her disappointment in the morning, she did not lose her courage. Finding that people in the street would not buy, she entered a shop where the clerks seemed to be at leisure, though she did not do so without thinking of the rude manner in which she had been ejected from a store in the forenoon.
"Buy some candy?" said she to a good-natured young gentleman, who was leaning over his counter waiting for a customer.
"How do you sell it?"
"Cent a stick; it is very nice. I sold fourteen sticks of it to the mayor this forenoon. He said it was good."
"You don't say so? Did he give you a testimonial?"
"No; he gave me half a dollar."
The clerk laughed heartily at Katy's misapprehension of his word, and his eye twinkled with mischief. It was plain that he was not a great admirer of molasses candy, and that he only wanted to amuse himself at Katy's expense.
"You know what they do with quack medicines—don't you?"
"Yes, I do; some folks are fools enough to take them," replied Katy, smartly.
"That's a fact; but you don't understand me. Dr. Swindlehanger, round the corner, would give the mayor a hundred dollars to say his patent elixir is good. Now, if you could only get the mayor's name on a paper setting forth the virtues of your candy, I dare say you could sell a thousand sticks in a day. Why don't you ask him for such a paper?"
"I don't want any paper, except to wrap up my candy in. But you don't want to buy any candy, I see;" and Katy moved towards some more clerks at the other end of the store.
"Yes, I do; stop a minute. I want to buy six sticks for my children!"
"For what?"
"For my grandchildren."
"You are making fun of me," said Katy, who could see this, though the young man was so pleasant and so funny, she could not be offended with him. "I don't believe your mother would like it, if she should hear you tell such a monstrous story."
The young man bit his lip. Perhaps he had a kind mother who had taught him never to tell a lie, even in jest. He quickly recovered his humor, however, though it was evident that Katy's rebuke had not been without its effect.
"For how much will you sell me six sticks?" continued the clerk.
"For six cents."
"But that is the retail price; when you sell goods at wholesale you ought not to ask so much for them."
"You shall have them for five cents then," replied Katy, struck with the force of the suggestion.
"I can't afford to give so much as that. I am a poor man. I have to go to the theater twice a week, and that costs me a dollar. Then a ride Sunday afternoon costs me three dollars. So you see I don't have much money to spend upon luxuries."
"I hope you don't go out to ride Sundays," said Katy.
"But I do."
"What does your mother say to it?"
The clerk bit his lip again. He did not like these allusions to his mother, who perhaps lived far away in the country, and had taught him to "remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy." Very likely his conscience smote him, as he thought of her and her blessed teachings in the far-off home of his childhood.
"I will give you two cents," said the clerk.
"I can't take that; it would hardly pay for the molasses, to say nothing of firewood and labor."
"Call it three cents, then."
"No, sir; the wholesale price is five cents for six sticks."
"But I am poor."
"You wouldn't be poor if you saved up your money, and kept the Sabbath. Your mother——"
"There, there! that's enough. I will take a dozen sticks!" exclaimed the young man, impatiently interrupting her.
"A dozen?"
"Yes, a dozen, and there are twelve cents."
"But I only ask ten."
"No matter, give me the candy, and take the money," he replied, fearful, it may be, that she would again allude to his mother.
Katy counted out the sticks, wrapped them up in a paper, and put the money in her pocket. If she had stopped at the door to study the young man's face, she might have detected a shadow of uneasiness and anxiety upon it. He was a very good-hearted, but rather dissolute, young man, and the allusions she had made to his mother burned like fire in his heart, for he had neglected her counsels, and wandered from the straight road in which she had taught him to walk. If she could have followed him home, and into the solitude of his chamber, she could have seen him open his desk, and write a long letter to his distant mother—a duty he had too long neglected. We may not follow the fortunes of this young man, but if we could, we might see how a few words, fitly spoken, even by the lips of an innocent youth; will sometimes produce a powerful impression on the character; will sometimes change the whole current of a life, and reach forward to the last day of existence.
Katy, all unconscious of the great work she had done, congratulated herself on this success, and wished she might find a few more such customers. Glancing into the shop windows as she passed along, to ascertain whether there was a good prospect for her, she soon found an inviting field. It was a crockery ware store that she entered this time, and there were several persons there who seemed not to be very busy.
"Buy some candy?" said she, presenting the tray to the first person she met.
"Go home and wash your face," was the ill-natured response.
Was it possible she had come out with a dirty face? No; she had washed herself the last thing she had done. It is true her clothes were shabby, there was many a patch and darn upon her dress, and its colors had faded out like the "last rose of summer;" but then the dress was clean.
"Buy some candy?" said she to another, with a sudden resolution not to be disturbed by the rudeness of those she addressed.
He took a stick, and threw down a cent, without a word. One more did her a similar favor, and she left the store well satisfied with the visit. Pretty soon she came to a large piano-forte manufactory, where she knew that a great many men were employed. She went up-stairs to the counting-room, where she sold three sticks, and was about to enter the work-room, when a sign, "No admittance except on business," confronted her. Should she go on? Did the sign refer to her? She had business there, but perhaps they would not be willing to admit that her business was very urgent, and she dreaded the indignity of being turned out again. Her mother had told her there was always a right way and a wrong way. It certainly was not right to enter in the face of a positive prohibition, and at last she decided to return to the office and ask permission to visit the workshop.
"Please may I go into the workshop?" said she, addressing the man who had purchased the candy.
"Go in? why not?" replied he, placing his pen behind his ear, and looking at her with a smile of curiosity.
"Why, it says on the door, 'No admittance except on business.'"
"So it does. Well, I declare, you have got an amount of conscience beyond your station. No one thinks of taking any notice of that sign. Peddlers and apple men go in without a question."
"I thought you wouldn't let people go in."
"We don't like to have visitors there, for they sometimes do injury, and generally take off the attention of the men from their work. But you have got so much conscience about the matter, that you shall not only go in, but I will go with you, and introduce you."
"Thank you, sir; I won't give you all that trouble. I can introduce myself."
But the bookkeeper led the way to the door, and they entered a large room in which a great many men were busily at work.
"Here is a very honest little girl," said her friend, "who has the very best molasses candy I ever ate. If any of you have a sweet tooth, or any children at home, I advise you to patronize her."
The bookkeeper laughed, and the workmen laughed, as they began to feel in their pockets for loose change. It was evident that the friendly introduction was to be of great service to her. She passed along from one man to another, and almost every one of them bought two or three sticks of candy, and before she had been to all of them her stock was entirely exhausted. Katy was astonished at her good fortune, and the men were all exceedingly good-natured. They seemed disposed to make a pleasant thing of her visit, and to give her a substantial benefit.
"Now, my little girl," said the bookkeeper, "when you wish to visit the workshop again, you may enter without further permission; and I am sure the men will all be very glad to see you."
"But I want some of that candy," said one of the workmen. "My little girl would jump to get a stick."
"Then she shall have some," replied Katy, "for I will go home and get some more;" and she left the building and hastened home for a further supply of the popular merchandise.
"O mother! I have sold out all my candy, and I want a lot more!" exclaimed she, as she rushed into the room, full of excitement and enthusiasm.
"Be calm, child; you will throw yourself into a fever," replied Mrs. Redburn. "You must learn to take things more easily."
"O dear! I have only twenty sticks left. I wish I had a hundred, for I am sure I could sell them."
"Perhaps it is fortunate you have no more."
"But I must make some more to-night for to-morrow."
"Don't drive round so, Katy. Be reasonable, and don't think too much of your success."
But Katy could not stop to argue the matter, though, as she walked along the street, she thought of what her mother had said, and tried to calm the excitement that agitated her. It was hard work to keep from running every step of the way; but her mother's advice must be heeded, and to some extent she succeeded in controlling her violent impulses. As it was, she reached the piano-forte manufactory quite out of breath, and rushed into the workroom as though she had come on an errand of vital importance to its occupants.
It required but a few minutes to dispose of her small stock of candy. The workmen all hoped she would come again, and she departed highly elated at her success.
"There, mother, I have sold all the candy. What do you think of that?" said she, as she entered her mother's room, and threw off her bonnet and shawl.
"You have done very well, I had no idea that you could sell more than twenty or thirty sticks in a day."
"It's a great day's work, mother; and if I can sell half as much in a day, I shall be satisfied. Don't you think I shall be able to support you?"
"At this rate you can do much more; but, Katy, I tremble for you."
"Why, mother?"
"You get so excited, and run so, I am afraid it will make you sick."
"O, no, it won't, mother. I feel as strong as a horse. I am not tired in the least."
"You don't feel so now, because you are so excited by your success."
"I shall get used to it in a little while."
"I hope so, if you mean to follow this business."
"If I mean to? Why mother, what else could I do to make so much money? See here;" and she poured the money she had taken upon the bed-quilt before her mother. "One dollar and thirty-six cents, mother! Only think of it! But I won't jump so another day; I will take it easy."
"I wish you would."
"I will try very hard; but you can't think how happy I feel! Dear me! I am wasting my time, when I have to make the candy for to-morrow."
"But, Katy, you must not do any more to-night. You will certainly be sick."
"I must make it, mother."
"Your hands are very sore now."
"They are better; and I don't feel tired a bit."
"I will tell you what you may do, if you must make the candy to-night. When you have got the molasses boiled, you may ask Mrs. Colvin, the washerwoman, to come in and pull it for you; for you are not strong enough to do it yourself."
"I should not like to ask her. She's a poor woman, and it would be just the same as begging to ask her to give me her work."
"You don't understand me, Katy. She goes out to work whenever she can get a chance. Her price is ten cents an hour. You can engage her for one or two hours, and pay her for her labor. This is the only way you can get along with this business."
"I will do that. It won't take more than an hour."
Mrs. Colvin was accordingly engaged, though at first she positively refused to be paid for her services; but when Katy told her she should want her for one or two hours every day, she consented to the arrangement. Early in the evening the candy was all made, and Katy's day's work was finished. Notwithstanding her repeated declaration that she was not tired, the bed "felt good" to her, and she slept all the more soundly for the hard work and the good deeds she had done.
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