you sit here in the store half the day,
counting and weighing, measuring and bargaining, but what good does
that do you? How do you expect to make your living in future?' I
mentioned the inheritance from my father. 'I suppose it's quite large,'
she said. I named the amount. 'That's much and little,' she replied.
'Much to invest, little to live upon. My father made you a proposition,
but I dissuaded you. For, on the one hand, he has lost money himself in
similar ventures, and on the other hand,' she added with lowered voice,
'he is so accustomed to take advantage of strangers that it's quite
possible he wouldn't treat friends any better. You must have somebody at
your side who has your interests at heart.' I pointed to her. 'I am
honest,' she said, laying her hand upon her heart. Her eyes, which were
ordinarily of a greyish hue, shone bright blue, the blue of the sky.
'But I'm in a peculiar position. Our business yields little profit, and
so my father intends to set himself up as an innkeeper. Now that's no
place for me, and nothing remains for me, therefore, but needlework, for
I will not go out as a servant.' As she said this she looked like a
queen. 'As a matter of fact I've had another offer,' she continued,
drawing a letter from her apron and throwing it half reluctantly upon
the counter. 'But in that case I should be obliged to leave the city.'
'Would you have to go far away?' I asked. 'Why? What difference would
that make to you?' I told her I should move to the same place. 'You're a
child,' she said. 'That wouldn't do at all, and there are quite
different matters to be considered. But if you have confidence in me and
like to be near me, buy the millinery store next door, which is for
sale. I understand the business, and you can count on a reasonable
profit on your investment. Besides, keeping the books and attending to
the correspondence would supply you with a proper occupation. What might
develop later on, we'll not discuss at present. But you would have to
change, for I hate effeminate men.' I had jumped up and seized my hat.
'What's the matter? Where are you going?' she asked. 'To countermand
everything!' I said breathlessly. 'Countermand what?' I then told her of
my plan for the establishment of a copying and information bureau.
'There isn't much in that,' she suggested. 'Information anybody can get
for himself, and everybody has learned to write in school.' I remarked
that music was also to be copied, which