Abijah's Bubble — Reading Companion

osiery counter in a department store and could call “Cash” in tones that brought instant service. This, with her promptness, had endeared her to many impatient customers--especially those from out of town who wanted to catch trains. It was through one of these “hayseeds” that she secured board at so reasonable a price in Taylorsville during her vacation.

“What do you know about it?” inquired Abbie. Such things were Greek to her.

“Know? I've got twenty shares, and I'm going to have money to burn before long.”

Abbie bent her head, and took in as much of Miss Furgusson as she could see through the square hole in her window.

“Who gave it to you?” The idea of a girl like Maria ever having money enough to buy anything of that kind never occurred to her.

“Nobody; I bought it; paid two dollars a share for it and now it's up to three, and Mr. Slathers, our floor-walker, says it's going to twenty-five. I've got a profit of twenty dollars on mine now.”

Abbie made a mental calculation; twenty dollars was a considerable part of her month's salary.

“And everybody in our store has got some. Mr. Slathers has made eight hundred dollars, and I know for sure that Miss Henders is going to leave the cloak department and set up a typewriting place, because she told me so; she's got a brother in the feed business who staked her.”

“Staked her? What's that?”

“Loaned her the money,” answered Maria, a certain pity in her voice for one so green and countrified.

“How do you get it?” Abbie's eyes were shining like the disks of a brass letter scale and almost as large--they were still upon Maria.

“Why, send Mr. Keep the money and he buys the stock and sends you back the certificate. Want to see mine? I've got it pinned in--Here it is.”

Abbie opened the door of the glass partition and beckoned to the shopgirl. She rarely allowed visitors inside, but this one seemed to hold the key to a new world.

The girl slipped her fingers inside her shirtwaist and drew out a square piece of paper bearing the inscription of the poster in big letters. At the bottom of the paper a section of cement drain-pipe poured forth a steady stream of water, and the whole was underlined by a motto meaning “Peace and Plenty”--of water, no doubt.

Abbie looked at the beautifully engraved document and a warm glow suffused her face. Was it as easy as this? Did this little scrap of paper mean rest and the spreading of wings, and freedom for her mother? Then she caught her breath. She hadn't any brother in the feed business---nor anywhere else, for that matter. How would she get the money? She had only her salary; her mother earned little or nothing--the interest on the mortgage would be due in a day or so; thank God it was nearly paid off. Then her heart rose in her throat. Mr. Taylor! Why he was so kind she never knew--but he was. But if he insisted as he had with the store and the position in the post-office! No--he had done too much already. Besides, she could never repay him if anything went wrong. No--this was not her chance for freedom.

Abbie handed the certificate back. “Queer way of making money,” was all she said as she reached for her hat and shawl, and went home to dinner.

That evening after supper, the two crooning over the fire, Abbie talked it over with her mother--not the stock--not a word of that--but of how Maria had made a lot of money, and how she wished she had a little of her own so she could make some, too. This the mother retailed, the next morning, to her neighbor, who met the expressman, who thereupon sent it rolling through the village. In both its diluted and enriched form the neighbor had helped. The story was as follows:

“That Boston girl who was boardin' up to Skitson's had a thousand dollars in the bank-made it all in a month--so Abbie Todd, who knew her, said. It was a dead secret how she made it, but Abbie said if she had a few hundred dollars she could get rich, too. Beats all how smart some girls is gettin' to be nowadays.”

The next morning Mr. Taylor called for his mail. He generally sent a boy down from the mill, but this time he came himself.