Millernine," and there was a spatter of French
phrases all over the place.

"It was a wonder!" they declared, "this idea of creating a little of
Paris here in old Chicago. A touch of genius really--just like that
astonishing Milly Ridge to have thought of the one thing--and the cakes
were so good," etc., etc.

Milly's ears burned with the winged words, and she smiled all the time.
If Ernestine only could hear this, it would cure her of doubting. She
should hear! Milly felt that at last she had demonstrated herself. It
was like that other occasion so many, many years ago, when she had
surmounted all the difficulties and entertained her friends at "tea."
Then her triumph had been indubitable. But this time it was more
significant, for the affair was less childish: it meant money, Milly was
sure,--much money. So every one said.

At eight Milly was rescued by a party of friends and borne to a hotel in
triumph for a dinner which lasted long after midnight. Her health was
drunk again in real champagne; speeches were made to impromptu toasts of
"The New Woman in Business--God Bless Her." "The Poetry of the Palate,"
"The Creative Cake," etc.... At ten Ernestine and her aides, having
succeeded in gathering the debris and straightening out the place for
the public opening the next morning, went wearily home to bed. She was
told that it had been a great success; she hoped that the enthusiasm
would last; but all these people had eaten "a mighty sight of expensive
stuff" without paying for it, which seemed to the prosaic Ernestine "bad
business."

* * * * *

But Milly knew. She was right. Those cakes cast upon the waters of
fashionable Chicago brought in a hundredfold return. The indulgent
newspapers, always patriotically loud over local enterprise, noted the
opening of the Cake Shop as a minor social event and so in the
succeeding days all those who hadn't been invited and couldn't talk
French with the waitresses crowded into the store. It was a
Novelty,--the New Thing,--and became overnight a popular fad. M. Paul
was hard pressed to turn off enough of his delectable tid-bits--they had
to employ assistants for him almost at once, and one may suspect that
the fairylike melt-in-the-mouth quality of his best work began to
deteriorate from the second day. He had never baked cakes on this
wholesale scale. Did these gluttonous barbarians devour them by the
platterful?... Telephone orders were numerou