The Central Record

"I don't suppose you care to have
me drive you over to the harvest home
in the rig Uncle Justin has given me."

Oh, see, Mort Bissell, with a searching
glance at the prettiest face that
had ever shone on him, that of Tessie
Upham.

"And why not?" clearly and hesitatingly
challenged the fair young girl,
with no trace of false pride or artful
evasion in her tone.

"Oh, well. It is hardly a chariot, and
the old nag is slow and clumsy. Now,
if Uncle Justin's recent first birthday
gift had been an automobile or a patent
spring buggy—"

"It could have passed as being
with means, whereas we are both poor
as church mice. Your company, I
hope, I appreciate, Mort, and I am not
ashamed to ride in an humble moral
rig in keeping with our circumstances."

"You are a girl in a thousand,
and you make me very happy, Tessie,"
said Mort with heartiness and earnestness.
"Never mind. The old rig may
be the starting point of a fortune, and
the greater things of life may come
along, if we are patient and persevering."

Uncle Justin had given them
a great deal of good advice, and this
he suggested that he take an arrangement
with some manufacturer to furnish
the ole goods and deliver with the rig.
There are half a dozen fellows I know
of who have worked up a fine business.
They were nature's own children,
these two, and happiness was bound
to come to such sensible and harmonious
souls.

Tessie was only eighteen,
but she knew more about housekeeping
and thrift than the average
woman of thirty. They had radiant
plans for the future, content when they
added to occupy two rooms in the
Upham house until they could earn
and save enough to build a little cottage
on a village lot Uncle Justin had
purchased for them.

Mort was gone for half a week. He
returned one afternoon about four
o'clock, made out Tessie hustling with
her baking in the kitchen and went to the
rear door.

"Hello, lovey," he hailed, but at a
glance she discerned that he was not
enthused over his success in the city.
She did not question him, however, but
in her bright, pretty way told him how
lonesome she had been during his
brief absence and recited some of the
events that had transpired in the
meantime.

"Well," he said, after a time, "I
haven't made the connection I expected."

"No?" interrogated Tessie gently.

"I suppose it takes time to get things
moving, right?"

"The only two houses that at all encourage
me," went on Mort, "were
one a concern that publishes music.
They expect me to go from house to
house like a coppered peddler. The
other company had books to sell on
the installment plan. I tried that
once and I am not fitted for that kind
of work."

"Why, Mort, you are strong enough
to do anything that anybody else can
do!"

"Yes, perhaps," assented Mort a
trifle gloomily. "But I was looking for
a strict business proposition that will
bring me in touch with people in a
commercial way, like storekeepers and
large buyers. What are you making,
Tessie?"

A lot of bobbing, bristling bits of
airy nothingness were visible in a
kettle of boiling lard, and on the
kitchen table was a great yellow
crock heaped high with those that
had just been removed from the receptacle.

"Vanities," replied Tessie. "Some
friends are coming over this evening
and I had some surplus dough, so I
am making it up into something palatable.
Try some."

She handed Mort a well-filled plate.
He soon dispatched what it held, for
the filmy "vanities" had little of bulk
or substance.

Then she took some
dough, with a deft twist of her pretty
hands made it into a graceful cornucopia,
let it cook for a minute or two
and took it to the pantry, filled it with
cream and berries and passed it to
Mort with the words:

"There is something more substantial."

To her surprise Mort gave a great
start. He held the delicacy before
him, turning it round and round and
inspecting it with critical eyes of suggestion
and enlightenment.

"Why, Tessie!" he burst forth abruptly.
"You've made a regular ice
cream cone."

"Any idea what is a regular ice
cream cone?" inquired Tessie.

"A common article of use and profit
in the city drug stores, and candy and
soda water places. We are of the
backwoods surely, not to have had
them introduced here long since.
Where is my list?" and he produced it.

"Yes, there are over a hundred places
in the county where they sell ice
cream. Tessie, my love, can you make
up cones like that right along?"

"The simplest and easiest thing in
the world, dear," came the prompt reply.

"Then our fortune is made!" declared
Mort rapturously.

Which was somewhat extravagant,
but the experiment that followed with
these mutually industrious partners
ushered in a business that was a stepping
stone to larger commercial activities
by the time of their wedding.