"How good
you are to me!"
Presently, under some compulsion, she was making an exposition of her
small plans. Mrs. Bates was made to understand how some of the old
Dearborn Seminary girls were trying to start a sort of clubroom in some
convenient down-town building for typewriters and saleswomen and others
employed in business. There was to be a room where they could get lunch,
or bring their own to eat, if they preferred; also a parlor where they
could fill up their noon hour with talk or reading or music; it was the
expectation to have a piano and a few books and magazines.
"I remembered Lottie as one of the girls who went with us there, down on
old Dearborn Place, and I thought perhaps I could interest Lottie's
mother," concluded Jane.
"And so you can," said Lottie's mother, promptly. "I'll have Miss
Peters--but don't you find it a little warm here? Just pass me that
hair-brush."
Mrs. Bates had stepped to her single little window. "Isn't it a gem?" she
asked. "I had it made to order; one of the old-fashioned sort, you
see--two sash, with six little panes in each. No weights and cords, but
simply catches at the side. It opens to just two widths; if I want
anything different, I have to contrive it for myself. Sometimes I use a
hair-brush and sometimes a paper-cutter."
"Dear me," asked Jane, "is that sort of thing a rarity? 'Most every
window in our house is like this. I prop mine with a curling-iron.
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