this move she knew just as definitely as if she had calculated the compound interest on her savings that by the time she was thirty she would own her own establishment on 57th West and would charge vain, gullible women three hundred dollars for the same quality of gowns she had sold for seventy-five when the shop was on 59th Street, East.
That afternoon, as the result of Madame Papillon's expert salesmanship, Minnie bought a red velvet gown, a charmeuse afternoon frock and hat, and she had had her first fitting on an elaborate, fur-trimmed serge suit. She paid thirteen dollars on account, three dollars out of her own earnings and ten dollars which Eleanor lent her.
It terrified her when she realized that she was one hundred and thirty-five dollars in debt to Madame Papillon, and that she owed Eleanor Grant thirty-two dollars and fifty cents. She turned in panic to Eleanor, and implored her to come home that evening for dinner. She believed that Eleanor could explain her extravagance better than she and make it seem more readily justifiable.
Eleanor was curious to know what Minnie's family was like, so she intended to accept the invitation, even while she was saying, "Oh, I don't want to impose on your mother, dear, butting in without giving her any notice. But of course, if you insist. . . ."
Minnie insisted feverishly, and hurried home, her mind now occupied with planning some little extras to be fixed for their distinguished guest.
Fortunately when Minnie came in her mother was in the kitchen and Nettie visiting down the street. No need to get them all upset over the new wardrobe, so she swiftly slid the
