built all her castles on that basis.

But the stout lady was crying to heaven against the price. "Impossible!
absurd! Why, Nuns were only two cents apiece, Marguerites only three!
The price was ridiculous, exorbitant. She could not think of paying--"

Here a small lady, richly but quietly dressed, came up, and looked at
the box. "Pretty!" she said. "Graceful and ingenious! Five cents
apiece, you say? Give me a dozen and a half, please! I should like to
have them sent to me once a week for the season; they are just the
things to please my daughter's lunch-club."

She nodded kindly to Hildegarde, and passed on. The stout lady gazed
after her reverentially.

"Mrs. Cameron Pine!" she murmured. "She will make them the fashion
instantly. I--I will take the rest!" she cried, wildly. "Put them up,
and send them to me,--Mrs. Newcomb Rich, Madison Avenue. Send me two
dozen every week,--wait! send them the _day before_ you send Mrs.
Pine's, do you hear? the day before! Don't forget! It is most
important!" and puffing and nodding, she, too, went on.

There was a little lull now, during which the saleswoman turned to thank
Hildegarde so heartily that our heroine would have felt well repaid even
if she had not sold all her cakes.

"I cannot imagine where Miss Berden is; she is always so punctual. This
is our busiest day, and one of our busiest hours, and some of the
ladies, as you saw, rather hard to please. I really don't know what I
should have done if you had not helped me; it was very kind and
thoughtful of you." She gazed earnestly at Hildegarde, and added, "You
have a good mother, I know, who has taught you to think and help."

Hildegarde nodded and smiled, but said nothing, for the tears came
springing to her eyes.

"And you sold all the pretty cakes!" added the saleswoman. "I knew they
would make a hit the moment I saw them. That was partly why I put a good
price on them; but it was also because I knew there must be a good deal
of nice and careful work in making them. I wonder--you have been so
good, I am ashamed to ask you anything more, but there is no one here
now; would you be willing to hold the fort while I run to the corner and
post a letter?"

Hildegarde assented cheerfully, and Miss Adams (for by this name she now
introduced herself) put on her hat and went out. Hildegarde remained
mistress of the situation, and occupied herself in tidying up the marble
counter, brushing away the crumbs, and rearranging som