cakes and sausage rolls instead of baking for themselves, there were many others who couldn’t. Dimity wasn’t surprised to hear that Sarah was struggling.
“Business will improve, I’m sure of it,” Sarah said stoutly.
“It might improve faster,” Beatrix replied, “if more people knew about it. You’re right on the main road, Sarah. Have you thought of putting your cakes and bread on display in your front window, where travelers can see them and be tempted as they go past? Your sausage rolls, too—nice for a quick bite, or to put in a pocket for later. Pity to go hiding your light under a bushel.”
“But I’m usually in the kitchen,” Sarah objected. “I won’t hear customers knock. And if I’m not in the kitchen, I’m out on my bicycle, delivering.”
“Then put a bell on your door, as the shops do,” Beatrix replied. “And ask one of the village girls to mind things whilst you’re out and about.”
“What good ideas,” Dimity said admiringly. “You’re quite the businesswoman, Beatrix. But I suppose you have to be, don’t you?”
“The little books have taught me to look out for opportunities,” Beatrix said with a small smile. “You know, I published Peter Rabbit myself, because no one else was willing to take a chance on the thing. And I thought almost from the beginning that there might be a demand for Peter Rabbit toys, so I made one myself out of rabbit fur, with whiskers pulled out of a brush, and a blue coat. I’ve even patented him. But now people are wanting to make all sorts of things like tea sets and games and wallpaper borders and the like, and I have to think about licenses and royalties. It’s rather fun, actually.”
Sarah nodded. “Well, I have to admit that the bell is a smart notion, and the window. I’ll give them a try—although I’m not sure I can afford to pay someone to mind the place whilst I’m gone.” She bit her lip vexatiously. “I’m not complaining, you know—I’m just saying that I understand Margaret’s situation. It’s not easy to make ends meet when there’s sickness in the family. That’s why I don’t want to tell her about this other candidate. She doesn’t need extra worries heaped on.”
“If we don’t tell her, someone else will,” Beatrix replied. “You know how this village is.” She made a face. “One can’t take one step without a half-dozen people telling one what one ought to do. I’ve been getting all sorts of advice about the improvements at Hill Top.”
“I’ll just bet you have,” Sarah said with an ironic laugh. “Did anyone mention the new road you poked through the wall?”
“Oh, of course,” Beatrix said. “People say it’s ugly, and they’re right. But it’s ugly because it’s new, and because all the fern has been pulled from the wall, which leaves it very bare. But mostly they ask why the extension is taking so long to finish. Which of course is Mr. Biddle’s doing. If he would just get on with the business—” She threw up her hands with an expression of frustration. “What a great bother. All the man wants to do is argue over this and that and almost everything! Yesterday, he was proposing to tear out the cupboards and the little staircase in the wall. He says it is necessary to stop out the rats, when I know perfectly well there are better alternatives.”
“Those beautiful oak cupboards beside the fireplace?” Dimity asked, horrified. “Oh, dear. I do hope you didn’t allow it!”
“Of course not,” Beatrix replied. “We had a frightful row—which isn’t likely to be the last, at the rate we’re going.” She wore a rueful look. “I’m rather afraid I let my temper get the better of me. I think I startled him.”
Dimity had to smile at that, for when she had first met Miss Potter, she had formed the impression she was a very meek person—an impression that more recent experience had corrected. If Mr. Biddle was not yet aware that Beatrix’s mild manner concealed a
“Business will improve, I’m sure of it,” Sarah said stoutly.
“It might improve faster,” Beatrix replied, “if more people knew about it. You’re right on the main road, Sarah. Have you thought of putting your cakes and bread on display in your front window, where travelers can see them and be tempted as they go past? Your sausage rolls, too—nice for a quick bite, or to put in a pocket for later. Pity to go hiding your light under a bushel.”
“But I’m usually in the kitchen,” Sarah objected. “I won’t hear customers knock. And if I’m not in the kitchen, I’m out on my bicycle, delivering.”
“Then put a bell on your door, as the shops do,” Beatrix replied. “And ask one of the village girls to mind things whilst you’re out and about.”
“What good ideas,” Dimity said admiringly. “You’re quite the businesswoman, Beatrix. But I suppose you have to be, don’t you?”
“The little books have taught me to look out for opportunities,” Beatrix said with a small smile. “You know, I published Peter Rabbit myself, because no one else was willing to take a chance on the thing. And I thought almost from the beginning that there might be a demand for Peter Rabbit toys, so I made one myself out of rabbit fur, with whiskers pulled out of a brush, and a blue coat. I’ve even patented him. But now people are wanting to make all sorts of things like tea sets and games and wallpaper borders and the like, and I have to think about licenses and royalties. It’s rather fun, actually.”
Sarah nodded. “Well, I have to admit that the bell is a smart notion, and the window. I’ll give them a try—although I’m not sure I can afford to pay someone to mind the place whilst I’m gone.” She bit her lip vexatiously. “I’m not complaining, you know—I’m just saying that I understand Margaret’s situation. It’s not easy to make ends meet when there’s sickness in the family. That’s why I don’t want to tell her about this other candidate. She doesn’t need extra worries heaped on.”
“If we don’t tell her, someone else will,” Beatrix replied. “You know how this village is.” She made a face. “One can’t take one step without a half-dozen people telling one what one ought to do. I’ve been getting all sorts of advice about the improvements at Hill Top.”
“I’ll just bet you have,” Sarah said with an ironic laugh. “Did anyone mention the new road you poked through the wall?”
“Oh, of course,” Beatrix said. “People say it’s ugly, and they’re right. But it’s ugly because it’s new, and because all the fern has been pulled from the wall, which leaves it very bare. But mostly they ask why the extension is taking so long to finish. Which of course is Mr. Biddle’s doing. If he would just get on with the business—” She threw up her hands with an expression of frustration. “What a great bother. All the man wants to do is argue over this and that and almost everything! Yesterday, he was proposing to tear out the cupboards and the little staircase in the wall. He says it is necessary to stop out the rats, when I know perfectly well there are better alternatives.”
“Those beautiful oak cupboards beside the fireplace?” Dimity asked, horrified. “Oh, dear. I do hope you didn’t allow it!”
“Of course not,” Beatrix replied. “We had a frightful row—which isn’t likely to be the last, at the rate we’re going.” She wore a rueful look. “I’m rather afraid I let my temper get the better of me. I think I startled him.”
Dimity had to smile at that, for when she had first met Miss Potter, she had formed the impression she was a very meek person—an impression that more recent experience had corrected. If Mr. Biddle was not yet aware that Beatrix’s mild manner concealed a
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