"First we should buy another coffee urn, to serve customers with more haste," I said. I pointed a pickle toward the north wall. "Next is to expand into Mr. Watson's lot. That way, we could offer proper meals, not just tidbits and rolls. You could serve roasts and mutton chops. And we could have an upstairs meeting room for the gentlemen, like the coffeehouses by the wharves."
I took a bite of the pickle.
"And we could reserve space to sell paintings, and combs, and fripperies from France." (6.33-6.35)
Mattie – I write you in haste. Master Peale is closing up the house with his family and assistants inside. To protect us from the fever. We have water from the well and food store.
My thoughts race. These flowers are for you. Take good care, Mattie. I would not want you sick. We shall watch for balloons again, when this plague has passed. (10.54-10.55)
I imagined Mother's face when she arrived home and found what a splendid job I had done running the coffeehouse. I could just picture it – I would be seeing the last customers out the door when Mother would come up the steps. She would exclaim how clean and well-run the coffeehouse was. Grandfather would point out the fancy dry goods store I was building next door. I would blush, looking quite attractive in my new dress – French, of course. (16.30)