rmly set. There
was something almost terrible about her concentrativeness. Together she
and Fanny began a life of self-denial of which only a woman could be
capable. They saved in ways that only a woman's mind could devise; petty
ways, that included cream and ice, and clothes, and candy. It was rather
fun at first. When that wore off it had become a habit. Mrs. Brandeis
made two resolutions regarding Fanny. One was that she should have at
least a high school education, and graduate. The other that she should
help in the business of the store as little as possible. To the first
Fanny acceded gladly. To the second she objected.

"But why? If you can work, why can't I? I could help you a lot on
Saturdays and at Christmas time, and after school."

"I don't want you to," Mrs. Brandeis had replied, almost fiercely. "I'm
giving my life to it. That's enough. I don't want you to know about
buying and selling. I don't want you to know a bill of lading from a
sales slip when you see it. I don't want you to know whether f. o. b. is
a wireless signal or a branch of the Masons." At which Fanny grinned. No
one appreciated her mother's humor more than she.

"But I do know already. The other day when that fat man was selling you
those go-carts I heard him say. `F. o. b. Buffalo,' and I asked Aloysius
what it meant and he told me."

It was inevitable that Fanny Brandeis should come to know these things,
for the little household revolved about the store on Elm Street. By the
time she was eighteen and had graduated from the Winnebago high school,
she knew so many things that the average girl of eighteen did not know,
and was ignorant of so many things that the average girl of eighteen did
know, that Winnebago was almost justified in thinking her queer. She
had had a joyous time at school, in spite of algebra and geometry and
physics. She took the part of the heroine in the senior class play given
at the Winnebago opera house, and at the last rehearsal electrified
those present by announcing that if Albert Finkbein (who played the
dashing Southern hero) didn't kiss her properly when the curtain went
down on the first act, just as he was going into battle, she'd rather he
didn't kiss her at all.

"He just makes it ridiculous," she protested. "He sort of gives a peck
two inches from my nose, and then giggles. Everybody will laugh, and
it'll spoil everything."

With the rather startled elocution teacher backing her she rehearsed the
bas