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diff --git a/old/17530-h.zip b/old/17530-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5c468d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/17530-h.zip diff --git a/old/17530-h/17530-h.htm b/old/17530-h/17530-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2a890cf --- /dev/null +++ b/old/17530-h/17530-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10305 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"> +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /> + + <title>The Project Gutenberg EBook of Maida’s Little Shop by Inez Hayes Irwin</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[*/ + <!-- + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; max-width: 40.0em;} + p {text-align: justify;} + p.heading {text-align: center; font-weight: bold;} + p.center {text-align: center;} + blockquote {text-align: justify; font-size: 0.9em;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center;} + h5 {margin-top: -1.5em} + pre {font-size: 1.0em;} + .note {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .noteBox {border-style: solid; border-width: thin; + padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 1em} + .illustrations {font-size: 0.9em;} + .returnTOC {text-align: right; font-size: 70%;} + hr {text-align: center; width: 50%;} + html>body hr {margin-right: 25%; margin-left: 25%; width: 50%;} + hr.full {width: 100%;} + html>body hr.full {margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 0%; width: 100%;} + hr.short {text-align: center; width: 20%;} + html>body hr.short {margin-right: 40%; margin-left: 40%; width: 20%;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; color: gray; font-size: 0.7em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; text-align: right;} + .returnTOC {text-align: right; font-size: 70%;} + .fnanchor {font-size: smaller; vertical-align: 2px;} + .poem {margin-left:20%; margin-right:10%; margin-bottom:1em; text-align:left;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .figcenter {padding:1em; margin:auto; clear:both; text-align:center; font-size:0.8em;} + .figcenter p {margin: 0; text-indent: 1em;} + ul.TOC {list-style-type: none; position: relative; width: 85%;} + .TOC p {font-size:90%; margin-top: 0; margin-right: 4%;} + span.ralign {position: absolute; right: 0; top: auto;} + a:link {color: blue; text-decoration: none} + link {color: blue; text-decoration: none} + a:visited {color: blue; text-decoration: none} + a:hover {color: red} + // --> + /*]]>*/ + </style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Maida's Little Shop, by Inez Haynes Irwin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Maida's Little Shop + +Author: Inez Haynes Irwin + +Release Date: January 16, 2006 [EBook #17530] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class="full"/> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 428px;"> + <img src="images/fpiece.png" width="400" alt="Illustration: Maida’s Little Shop" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="full"/> + +<div style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em;"> + <span style="font-size: 250%;"> + Maida’s Little Shop + </span> + <br />by<br /> + <span style="font-size: 140%;"> + Inez Haynes Irwin<br /> + </span> + <br /><br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 80%"> + Author of<br /> + MAIDA'S LITTLE HOUSE,<br /> + MAIDA'S LITTLE SCHOOL, ETC. + </span> + <br /><br /> + <div class="figcenter" style="width: 428px;"> + <img src="images/title.png" width="80" alt="Illustration: Image of Girl" title="" /> + </div> + <br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 120%"> + Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers<br /> + New York + </span> + <br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 80%;"> + Copyright, 1909, by<br /> + B. W. HUEBSCH + </span> +</div> + +<hr class="full"/> + +<div> + <p style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em; text-align: center;"> + TO<br /> + LITTLE P. D.<br /> + FROM<br /> + BIG P. D. + </p> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + + <p> <a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a></p> + <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 150%">Contents</span></p> + + <ul class="TOC" style="list-style-type:upper-roman;margin-left:1em;font-variant:small-caps;"> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_I">The Ride + <span class="ralign">9</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Cleaning Up + <span class="ralign">30</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_III">The First Day + <span class="ralign">49</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">The Second Day + <span class="ralign">75</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Primrose Court + <span class="ralign">98</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Two Calls + <span class="ralign">116</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Trouble + <span class="ralign">138</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">A Rainy Day + <span class="ralign">161</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Work + <span class="ralign">182</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Play + <span class="ralign">202</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Halloween + <span class="ralign">223</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">The First Snow + <span class="ralign">243</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">The Fair + <span class="ralign">259</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">Christmas Happenings + <span class="ralign">275</span></a></li> + </ul> + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p style="text-align: center; font-size: 230%;">Maida’s Little Shop</p> + +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>THE RIDE</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>Four people sat in the big, shining automobile. +Three of them were men. +The fourth was a little girl. The little +girl’s name was Maida Westabrook. The +three men were “Buffalo” Westabrook, her +father, Dr. Pierce, her physician, and Billy +Potter, her friend. They were coming +from Marblehead to Boston.</p> + +<p>Maida sat in one corner of the back seat +gazing dreamily out at the whirling country. +She found it very beautiful and very curious. +They were going so fast that all the +reds and greens and yellows of the autumn +trees melted into one variegated band. A +moment later they came out on the ocean. +And now on the water side were two other +streaks of color, one a spongy blue that was +sky, another a clear shining blue that was +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +sea. Maida half-shut her eyes and the +whole world seemed to flash by in ribbons.</p> + +<p>“May I get out for a moment, papa?” she +asked suddenly in a thin little voice. “I’d +like to watch the waves.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” her father answered briskly. +To the chauffeur he said, “Stop here, Henri.” +To Maida, “Stay as long as you want, +Posie.”</p> + +<p>“Posie” was Mr. Westabrook’s pet-name +for Maida.</p> + +<p>Billy Potter jumped out and helped Maida +to the ground. The three men watched her +limp to the sea-wall.</p> + +<p>She was a child whom you would have noticed +anywhere because of her luminous, +strangely-quiet, gray eyes and because of +the ethereal look given to her face by a floating +mass of hair, pale-gold and tendrilly. +And yet I think you would have known that +she was a sick little girl at the first glance. +When she moved, it was with a great slowness +as if everything tired her. She was +so thin that her hands were like claws and +her cheeks scooped in instead of out. She +was pale, too, and somehow her eyes looked +too big. Perhaps this was because her little +heart-shaped face seemed too small. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You’ve got to find something that will +take up her mind, Jerome,” Dr. Pierce said, +lowering his voice, “and you’ve got to be +quick about it. Just what Greinschmidt +feared has come—that languor—that lack of +interest in everything. You’ve got to find +something for her to <span style="font-style: italic">do</span>.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Pierce spoke seriously. He was a +round, short man, just exactly as long any +one way as any other. He had springy gray +curls all over his head and a nose like a +button. Maida thought that he looked like +a very old but a very jolly and lovable baby. +When he laughed—and he was always +laughing with Maida—he shook all over like +jelly that has been turned out of a jar. His +very curls bobbed. But it seemed to Maida +that no matter how hard he chuckled, his +eyes were always serious when they rested +on her.</p> + +<p>Maida was very fond of Dr. Pierce. She +had known him all her life. He had gone +to college with her father. He had taken +care of her health ever since Dr. Greinschmidt +left. Dr. Greinschmidt was the +great physician who had come all the way +across the ocean from Germany to make +Maida well. Before the operation Maida +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +could not walk. Now she could walk easily. +Ever since she could remember she had always +added to her prayers at night a special +request that she might some day be like +other little girls. Now she was like other +little girls, except that she limped. And yet +now that she could do all the things that +other little girls did, she no longer cared to +do them—not even hopping and skipping, +which she had always expected would be the +greatest fun in the world. Maida herself +thought this very strange.</p> + +<p>“But what can I find for her to do?” +“Buffalo” Westabrook said.</p> + +<p>You could tell from the way he asked this +question that he was not accustomed to take +advice from other people. Indeed, he did +not look it. But he looked his name. You +would know at once why the cartoonists always +represented him with the head of a +buffalo; why, gradually, people had forgotten +that his first name was Jerome and referred +to him always as “Buffalo” Westabrook.</p> + +<p>Like the buffalo, his head was big and +powerful and emerged from the midst of a +shaggy mane. But it was the way in which +it was set on his tremendous shoulders that +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +gave him his nickname. When he spoke to +you, he looked as if he were about to charge. +And the glance of his eyes, set far back of a +huge nose, cut through you like a pair of +knives.</p> + +<p>It surprised Maida very much when she +found that people stood in awe of her father. +It had never occurred to her to be afraid of +him.</p> + +<p>“I’ve racked my brains to entertain her,” +“Buffalo” Westabrook went on. “I’ve +bought her every gimcrack that’s made for +children—her nursery looks like a toy factory. +I’ve bought her prize ponies, prize +dogs and prize cats—rabbits, guinea-pigs, +dancing mice, talking parrots, marmosets—there’s +a young menagerie at the place in the +Adirondacks. I’ve had a doll-house and a +little theater built for her at Pride’s. She +has her own carriage, her own automobile, +her own railroad car. She can have her own +flying-machine if she wants it. I’ve taken +her off on trips. I’ve taken her to the +theater and the circus. I’ve had all kinds of +nurses and governesses and companions, but +they’ve been mostly failures. Granny +Flynn’s the best of the hired people, but of +course Granny’s old. I’ve had other children +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +come to stay with her. Selfish little +brutes they all turned out to be! They’d +play with her toys and ignore her completely. +And this fall I brought her to Boston, +hoping her cousins would rouse her. +But the Fairfaxes decided suddenly to go +abroad this winter. If she’d only express a +desire for something, I’d get it for her—if +it were one of the moons of Jupiter.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t anything you can <span style="font-style: italic">give</span> her,” Dr. +Pierce said impatiently; “you must find +something for her to <span style="font-style: italic">do</span>.”</p> + +<p>“Say, Billy, you’re an observant little +duck. Can’t you tell us what’s the matter?” +“Buffalo” Westabrook smiled down +at the third man of the party.</p> + +<p>“The trouble with the child,” Billy Potter +said promptly, “is that everything she’s +had has been ‘prize.’ Not that it’s spoiled +her at all. Petronilla is as simple as a +princess in a fairy-tale.”</p> + +<p>“Petronilla” was Billy Potter’s pet-name +for Maida.</p> + +<p>“Yes, she’s wonderfully simple,” Dr. +Pierce agreed. “Poor little thing, she’s +lived in a world of bottles and splints and +bandages. She’s never had a chance to realize +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +either the value or the worthlessness of +things.”</p> + +<p>“And then,” Billy went on, “nobody’s +ever used an ounce of imagination in entertaining +the poor child.”</p> + +<p>“Imagination!” “Buffalo” Westabrook +growled. “What has imagination to do +with it?”</p> + +<p>Billy grinned.</p> + +<p>Next to her father and Granny Flynn, +Maida loved Billy Potter better than anybody +in the world. He was so little that she +could never decide whether he was a boy or a +man. His chubby, dimply face was the +pinkest she had ever seen. From it twinkled +a pair of blue eyes the merriest she had +ever seen. And falling continually down +into his eyes was a great mass of flaxen hair, +the most tousled she had ever seen.</p> + +<p>Billy Potter lived in New York. He +earned his living by writing for newspapers +and magazines. Whenever there was a fuss +in Wall Street—and the papers always +blamed “Buffalo” Westabrook if this happened—Billy +Potter would have a talk with +Maida’s father. Then he wrote up what +Mr. Westabrook said and it was printed +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +somewhere. Men who wrote for the newspapers +were always trying to talk with Mr. +Westabrook. Few of them ever got the +chance. But “Buffalo” Westabrook never +refused to talk with Billy Potter. Indeed, +the two men were great friends.</p> + +<p>“He’s one of the few reporters who can +turn out a good story and tell it straight as +I give it to him,” Maida had once heard her +father say. Maida knew that Billy could +turn out good stories—he had turned out a +great many for her.</p> + +<p>“What has imagination to do with it?” +Mr. Westabrook repeated.</p> + +<p>“It would have a great deal to do with it, +I fancy,” Billy Potter answered, “if somebody +would only imagine the right thing.”</p> + +<p>“Well, imagine it yourself,” Mr. Westabrook +snarled. “Imagination seems to be +the chief stock-in-trade of you newspaper +men.”</p> + +<p>Billy grinned. When Billy smiled, two +things happened—one to you and the other +to him. Your spirits went up and his eyes +seemed to disappear. Maida said that Billy’s +eyes “skrinkled up.” The effect was so +comic that she always laughed—not with +him but at him. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>“All right,” Billy agreed pleasantly; “I’ll +put the greatest creative mind of the century +to work on the job.”</p> + +<p>“You put it to work at once, young man,” +Dr. Pierce said. “The thing I’m trying to +impress on you both is that you can’t wait +too long.”</p> + +<p>“Buffalo” Westabrook stirred uneasily. +His fierce, blue eyes retreated behind the +frown in his thick brows until all you could +see were two shining points. He watched +Maida closely as she limped back to the car. +“What are you thinking of, Posie?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing, father,” Maida said, smiling +faintly. This was the answer she gave most +often to her father’s questions. “Is there +anything you want, Posie?” he was sure to +ask every morning, or, “What would you +like me to get you to-day, little daughter?” +The answer was invariable, given always in +the same soft, thin little voice: “Nothing, +father—thank you.”</p> + +<p>“Where are we now, Jerome?” Dr. Pierce +asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Westabrook looked about him. “Getting +towards Revere.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s go home through Charlestown,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +Dr. Pierce suggested. “How would you +like to see the house where I was born, +Maida—that old place on Warrington Street +I told you about yesterday. I think you’d +like it, Pinkwink.”</p> + +<p>“Pinkwink” was Dr. Pierce’s pet-name +for Maida.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’d love to see it.” A little thrill of +pleasure sparkled in Maida’s flat tones. +“I’d just love to.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Pierce gave some directions to the +chauffeur.</p> + +<p>For fifteen minutes or more the men +talked business. They had come away from +the sea and the streams of yellow and red +and green trees. Maida pillowed her head +on the cushions and stared fixedly at the +passing streets. But her little face wore a +dreamy, withdrawn look as if she were seeing +something very far away. Whenever +“Buffalo” Westabrook’s glance shot her +way, his thick brows pulled together into the +frown that most people dreaded to face.</p> + +<p>“Now down the hill and then to the left,” +Dr. Pierce instructed Henri.</p> + +<p>Warrington Street was wide and old-fashioned. +Big elms marching in a double +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +file between the fine old houses, met in an +arch above their roofs. At intervals along +the curbstones were hitching-posts of iron, +most of them supporting the head of a horse +with a ring in his nose. One, the statue of +a negro boy with his arms lifted above his +head, seemed to beg the honor of holding the +reins. Beside these hitching-posts were +rectangular blocks of granite—stepping-stones +for horseback riders and carriage +folk.</p> + +<p>“There, Pinkwink,” Dr. Pierce said; +“that old house on the corner—stop here, +Henri, please—that’s where I was brought +up. The old swing used to hang from that +tree and it was from that big bough stretching +over the fence that I fell and broke my +arm.”</p> + +<p>Maida’s eyes brightened. “And there’s +the garret window where the squirrels used +to come in,” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“The same!” Dr. Pierce laughed. “You +don’t forget anything, do you? My goodness +me! How small the house looks and +how narrow the street has grown! Even +the trees aren’t as tall as they should be.”</p> + +<p>Maida stared. The trees looked very +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +high indeed to her. And she thought the +street quite wide enough for anybody, the +houses very stately.</p> + +<p>“Now show me the school,” she begged.</p> + +<p>“Just a block or two, Henri,” Dr. Pierce +directed.</p> + +<p>The car stopped in front of a low, rambling +wooden building with a yard in +front.</p> + +<p>“That’s where you covered the ceiling +with spit-balls,” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“The same!” Dr. Pierce laughed heartily +at the remembrance. It seemed to Maida +that she had never seen his curls bob quite +so furiously before.</p> + +<p>“It’s one of the few wooden, primary +buildings left in the city,” he explained to +the two men. “It can’t last many years +now. It’s nothing but a rat-trap but how I +shall hate to see it go!”</p> + +<p>Opposite the school was a big, wide court. +Shaded with beautiful trees—maples beginning +to flame, horse-chestnuts a little +browned, it was lined with wooden toy +houses, set back of fenced-in yards and +veiled by climbing vines. Pigeons were flying +about, alighting now and then to peck +at the ground or to preen their green and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +purple necks. Boys were spinning tops. +Girls were jumping rope. The dust they +kicked up had a sweet, earthy smell +in Maida’s nostrils. As she stared, charmed +with the picture, a little girl in a scarlet cape +and a scarlet hat came climbing up over one +of the fences. Quick, active as a squirrel, +she disappeared into the next yard.</p> + +<p>“Primrose Court!” Dr. Pierce exclaimed. +“Well, well, well!”</p> + +<p>“Primrose Court,” Maida repeated. +“Do primroses grow there?”</p> + +<p>“Bless your heart, no,” Dr. Pierce +laughed; “it was named after a man called +Primrose who used to own a great deal of +the neighborhood.”</p> + +<p>But Maida was scarcely listening. “Oh, +what a cunning little shop!” she exclaimed. +“There, opposite the court. What a perfectly +darling little place!”</p> + +<p>“Good Lord! that’s Connors’,” Dr. Pierce +explained. “Many a reckless penny I’ve +squandered there, my dear. Connors was +the funniest, old, bent, dried-up man. I +wonder who keeps it now.”</p> + +<p>As if in answer to his question, a wrinkled +old lady came to the window to take a paper-doll +from the dusty display there. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What are those yellow things in that +glass jar?” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“Pickled limes,” Dr. Pierce responded +promptly. “How I used to love them!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, father, buy me a pickled lime,” +Maida pleaded. “I never had one in my +life and I’ve been crazy to taste one ever +since I read ‘Little Women.’”</p> + +<p>“All right,” Mr. Westabrook said. +“Let’s come in and treat Maida to a pickled +lime.”</p> + +<p>A bell rang discordantly as they opened +the door. Its prolonged clangor finally +brought the old lady from the room at the +back. She looked in surprise at the three +men in their automobile coats and at the +little lame girl.</p> + +<p>Coming in from the bright sunshine, the +shop seemed unpleasantly dark to Maida. +After a while she saw that its two windows +gave it light enough but that it was very +confused, cluttery and dusty.</p> + +<p>Mr. Westabrook bought four pickled +limes and everybody ate—three of them +with enjoyment, Billy with many wry faces +and a decided, “Stung!” after the first +taste.</p> + +<p>“I like pickled limes,” Maida said after +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +they had started for Boston. “What a +funny little place that was! Oh, how I +would like to keep a little shop just like it.”</p> + +<p>Billy Potter started. For a moment it +seemed as if he were about to speak. But +instead, he stared hard at Maida, falling +gradually into a brown study. From time +to time he came out of it long enough to +look sharply at her. The sparkle had all +gone out of her face. She was pale and +dream-absorbed again.</p> + +<p>Her father studied her with increasing +anxiety as they neared the big house on +Beacon Street. Dr. Pierce’s face was shadowed +too.</p> + +<p>“Eureka! I’ve found it!” Billy exclaimed +as they swept past the State House. +“I’ve got it, Mr. Westabrook.”</p> + +<p>“Got what?”</p> + +<p>Billy did not answer at once. The automobile +had stopped in front of a big red-brick +house. Over the beautifully fluted +columns that held up the porch hung a brilliant +red vine. Lavender-colored glass, +here and there in the windows, made purple +patches on the lace of the curtains.</p> + +<p>“Got what?” Mr. Westabrook repeated +impatiently. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That little job of the imagination that +you put me on a few moments ago,” Billy +answered mysteriously. “In a moment,” +he added with a significant look at Maida. +“You stay too, Dr. Pierce. I want your +approval.”</p> + +<p>The door of the beautiful old house had +opened and a man in livery came out to +assist Maida. On the threshold stood an +old silver-haired woman in a black-silk +gown, a white cap and apron, a little black +shawl pinned about her shoulders.</p> + +<p>“How’s my lamb?” she asked tenderly +of Maida.</p> + +<p>“Oh, pretty well,” Maida said dully. +“Oh, Granny,” she added with a sudden +flare of enthusiasm, “I saw the cunningest +little shop. I think I’d rather tend shop +than do anything else in the world.”</p> + +<p>Billy Potter smiled all over his pink face. +He followed Mr. Westabrook and Dr. +Pierce into the drawing-room.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Maida went upstairs with Granny Flynn.</p> + +<p>Granny Flynn had come straight to the +Westabrook house from the boat that +brought her from Ireland years ago. She +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +had come to America in search of a runaway +daughter but she had never found her. +She had helped to nurse Maida’s mother +in the illness of which she died and she had +always taken such care of Maida herself +that Maida loved her dearly. Sometimes +when they were alone, Maida would call her +“Dame,” because, she said, “Granny looks +just like the ‘Dame’ who comes into fairy-tales.”</p> + +<p>Granny Flynn was very little, very bent, +very old. “A t’ousand and noine, sure,” +she always answered when Maida asked her +how old. Her skin had cracked into a hundred +wrinkles and her long sharp nose and +her short sharp chin almost met. But the +wrinkles surrounded a pair of eyes that +were a twinkling, youthful blue. And her +down-turned nose and up-growing chin +could not conceal or mar the lovely sweetness +of her smile.</p> + +<p>Just before Maida went to bed that night, +she was surprised by a visit from her father.</p> + +<p>“Posie,” he said, sitting down on her bed, +“did you really mean it to-day when you +said you would like to keep a little shop?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, father! I’ve been thinking it +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +over ever since I came home from our ride +this afternoon. A little shop, you know, +just like the one we saw to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, dear, you shall keep a shop. +You shall keep that very one. I’m going +to buy out the business for you and put +you in charge there. I’ve got to be in New +York pretty steadily for the next three +months and I’ve decided that I’ll send you +and Granny to live in the rooms over the +shop. I’ll fix the place all up for you, give +you plenty of money to stock it and then I +expect you to run it and make it pay.”</p> + +<p>Maida sat up in bed with a vigor that +surprised her father. She shook her hands—a +gesture that, with her, meant great delight. +She laughed. It was the first time +in months that a happy note had pealed in +her laughter. “Oh, father, dear, how good +you are to me! I’m just crazy to try it and +I know I can make it pay—if hard work +helps.”</p> + +<p>“All right. That’s settled. But listen +carefully to what I’m going to say, Posie. +I can’t have this getting into the papers, +you know. To prevent that, you’re to play +a game while you’re working in the shop—just +as princesses in fairy-tales had to play +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +games sometimes. You’re going <span style="font-style: italic">in disguise</span>. +Do you understand?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, father, I understand.”</p> + +<p>“You’re to pretend that you belong to +Granny Flynn, that you’re her grandchild. +You won’t have to tell any lies about it. +When the children in the neighborhood hear +you call her ‘Granny,’ they’ll simply take +it for granted that you’re her son’s child.</p> + +<p>“Or I can pretend I’m poor Granny’s +lost daughter’s little girl,” Maida suggested.</p> + +<p>“If you wish. Billy Potter’s going to +stay here in Boston and help you. You’re +to call on him, Posie, if you get into any +snarl. But I hope you’ll try to settle all +your own difficulties before turning to anybody +else. Do you understand?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, father. Father, dear, I’m so +happy. Does Granny know?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Maida heaved an ecstatic sigh. “I’m +afraid I shan’t get to sleep to-night—just +thinking of it.”</p> + +<p>But she did sleep and very hard—the best +sleep she had known since her operation. +And she dreamed that she opened a shop—a +big shop this was—on the top of a huge +white cloud. She dreamed that her customers +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +were all little boy and girl angels with +floating, golden curls and shining rainbow-colored +wings. She dreamed that she sold +nothing but cake. She used to cut generous +slices from an angel-cake as big as the +golden dome of the Boston state house. +It was very delicious—all honey and jelly +and ice cream on the inside, and all frosting, +stuck with candies and nuts and fruits, +on the outside.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The people on Warrington Street were +surprised to learn in the course of a few +days that old Mrs. Murdock had sold out +her business in the little corner store. For +over a week, the little place was shut up. +The school children, pouring into the street +twice a day, had to go to Main Street for +their candy and lead pencils. For a long +time all the curtains were kept down. +Something was going on inside, but what, +could not be guessed from the outside. +Wagons deposited all kinds of things at the +door, rolls of paper, tins of paint, furniture, +big wooden boxes whose contents nobody +could guess. Every day brought more and +more workmen and the more there were, the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +harder they worked. Then, as suddenly as +it had begun, all the work stopped.</p> + +<p>The next morning when the neighborhood +waked up, a freshly-painted sign had taken +the place over the door of the dingy old +black and white one. The lettering was +gilt, the background a skyey blue. It read:</p> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.44em; font-size: 125%; "> +MAIDA’S LITTLE SHOP +<br /><br /></p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>CLEANING UP</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>The next two weeks were the busiest +Maida ever knew.</p> + +<p>In the first place she must see Mrs. Murdock +and talk things over. In the second +place, she must examine all the stock that +Mrs. Murdock left. In the third place, she +must order new stock from the wholesale +places. And in the fourth place, the rooms +must be made ready for her and Granny to +live in. It was hard work, but it was great +fun.</p> + +<p>First, Mrs. Murdock called, at Billy’s request, +at his rooms on Mount Vernon Street. +Granny and Maida were there to meet her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Murdock was a tall, thin, erect old +lady. Her bright black eyes were piercing +enough, but it seemed to Maida that the +round-glassed spectacles, through which she +examined them all, were even more so.</p> + +<p>“I’ve made out a list of things for the +shop that I’m all out of,” she began briskly. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +“You’ll know what the rest is from what’s +left on the shelves. Now about buying—there’s +a wagon comes round once a month +and I’ve told them to keep right on a-coming +even though I ain’t there. They’ll sell +you your candy, pickles, pickled limes and +all sich stuff. You’ll have to buy your toys +in Boston—your paper, pens, pencils, rubbers +and the like also, but not at the same +places where you git the toys. I’ve put all +the addresses down on the list. I don’t see +how you can make any mistakes.”</p> + +<p>“How long will it take you to get out +of the shop?” Billy asked.</p> + +<p>Maida knew that Billy enjoyed Mrs. Murdock, +for often, when he looked at that lady, +his eyes “skrinkled up,” although there was +not a smile on his face.</p> + +<p>“A week is all I need,” Mrs. Murdock +declared. “If it worn’t for other folks who +are keeping me waiting, I’d have that hull +place fixed as clean as a whistle in two shakes +of a lamb’s tail. Now I’ll put a price on +everything, so’s you won’t be bothered what +to charge. There’s some things I don’t +ever git, because folks buy too many of them +and it’s sich an everlasting bother keeping +them in stock. But you’re young and spry, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +and maybe you won’t mind jumping about +for every Tom, Dick and Harry. But, remember,” +she added in parting, “don’t git +expensive things. Folks in that neighborhood +ain’t got no money to fool away. Git +as many things as you can for a cent a-piece. +Git some for five and less for ten +and nothing for over a quarter. But you +must allus callulate to buy some things to +lose money on. I mean the truck you put +in the window jess to make folks look in. +It gits dusty and fly-specked before you +know it and there’s an end on it. I allus +send them to the Home for Little Wanderers +at Christmas time.”</p> + +<p>Early one morning, a week later, a party +of three—Granny Flynn, Billy and Maida—walked +up Beacon Street and across the +common to the subway. Maida had never +walked so far in her life. But her father +had told her that if she wanted to keep the +shop, she must give up her carriage and her +automobile. That was not hard. She was +willing to give up anything that she owned +for the little shop.</p> + +<p>They left the car at City Square in +Charlestown and walked the rest of the way. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +It was Saturday, a brilliant morning in a +beautiful autumn. All the children in the +neighborhood were out playing. Maida +looked at each one of them as she passed. +They seemed as wonderful as fairy beings +to her—for would they not all be her customers +soon? And yet, such was her excitement, +she could not remember one face after +she had passed it. A single picture remained +in her mind—a picture of a little +girl standing alone in the middle of the +court. Black-haired, black-eyed, a vivid +spot of color in a scarlet cape and a scarlet +hat, the child was scattering bread-crumbs +to a flock of pigeons. The pigeons did not +seem afraid of her. They flew close to her +feet. One even alighted on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>“It makes me think of St. Mark’s in Venice,” +Maida said to Billy.</p> + +<p>But, little girl—scarlet cape—flocks of +doves—St. Mark’s, all went out of her head +entirely when she unlocked the door of the +little shop.</p> + +<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” she cried, “how nice and +clean it looks!”</p> + +<p>The shop seemed even larger than she remembered +it. The confused, dusty, cluttery +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +look had gone. But with its dull paint and +its blackened ceiling, it still seemed dark +and dingy.</p> + +<p>Maida ran behind the counter, peeped into +the show cases, poked her head into the window, +drew out the drawers that lined the +wall, pulled covers from the boxes on the +shelves. There is no knowing where her investigations +would have ended if Billy had +not said:</p> + +<p>“See here, Miss Curiosity, we can’t put +in the whole morning on the shop. This is +a preliminary tour of investigation. Come +and see the rest of it. This way to the +living-room!”</p> + +<p>The living-room led from the shop—a big +square room, empty now, of course. Maida +limped over to the window. “Oh, oh, oh!” +she cried; “did you ever see such a darling +little yard?”</p> + +<p>“It surely is little,” Billy agreed, “not +much bigger than a pocket handkerchief, is +it?”</p> + +<p>And yet, scrap of a place as the yard was, +it had an air of completeness, a pretty +quaintness. Two tiny brick walks curved +from the door to the gate. On either side +of these spread out microscopic flower-beds, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +crowded tight with plants. Late-blooming +dahlias and asters made spots of starry color +in the green. A vine, running over the door +to the second story, waved like a crimson +banner dropped from the window.</p> + +<p>“The old lady must have been fond of +flowers,” Billy Potter said. He squinted +his near-sighted blue eyes and studied the +bunches of green. “Syringa bush in one +corner. Lilac bush in the other. Nasturtiums +at the edges. Morning-glories running +up the fence. Sunflowers in between. +My, won’t it be fun to see them all racing +up in the spring!”</p> + +<p>Maida jumped up and down at the +thought. She could not jump like other +children. Indeed, this was the first time +that she had ever tried. It was as if her +feet were like flat-irons. Granny Flynn +turned quickly away and Billy bit his lips.</p> + +<p>“I know just how I’m going to fix this +room up for you, Petronilla,” Billy said, +nodding his head mysteriously. “Now let’s +go into the kitchen.”</p> + +<p>The kitchen led from the living-room. +Billy exclaimed when he saw it and Maida +shook her hands, but it was Granny who +actually screamed with delight. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>Much bigger than the living-room, it had +four windows with sunshine pouring in +through every one of them. But it was not +the four windows nor yet the sunshine that +made the sensation—it was the stone floor.</p> + +<p>“We’ll put a carpet on it if you think it’s +too cold, Granny,” Billy suggested immediately.</p> + +<p>“Oh, lave it be, Misther Billy,” Granny +begged. “’Tis loike me ould home in Oireland. +Sure ’tis homesick Oi am this very +minut looking at ut.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” Billy agreed cheerfully. +“What you say goes, Granny. Now upstairs +to the sleeping-rooms.”</p> + +<p>To get to the second floor they climbed +a little stairway not more than three feet +wide, with steps very high, most of them +triangular in shape because the stairway +had to turn so often. And upstairs—after +they got there—consisted of three rooms, +two big and square and light, and one +smaller and darker.</p> + +<p>“The small room is to be made into a +bathroom,” Billy explained, “and these two +big ones are to be your bedrooms. Which +one will you have, Maida?”</p> + +<p>Maida examined both rooms carefully. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +“Well, I don’t care for myself which I +have,” she said. “But it does seem as if +there were a teeny-weeny more sun in this +one. I think Granny ought to have it, for +she loves the sunshine on her old bones. +You know, Billy, Granny and I have the +greatest fun about our bones. Hers are all +wrong because they’re so old, and mine are +all wrong because they’re so young.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” Billy agreed. “Sunshiny +one for Granny, shady one for you. That’s +settled! I hope you realize, Miss Maida, +Elizabeth, Fairfax, Petronilla, Pinkwink, +Posie Westabrook what perfectly bully +rooms these are! They’re as old as Noah.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad they’re old,” Maida said. +“But of course they must be. This house +was here when Dr. Pierce was a little boy. +And that must have been a long, long, long +time ago.”</p> + +<p>“Just look at the floors,” Billy went on +admiringly. “See how uneven they are. +You’ll have to walk straight here, Petronilla, +to keep from falling down. That +old wooden wainscoting is simply charming. +That’s a nice old fireplace too. And +these old doors are perfect.”</p> + +<p>Granny Flynn was working the latch of +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +one of the old doors with her wrinkled +hands. “Manny’s the toime Oi’ve snibbed +a latch loike that in Oireland,” she said, and +she smiled so hard that her very wrinkles +seemed to twinkle.</p> + +<p>“And look at the windows, Granny,” +Billy said. “Sixteen panes of glass each. +I hope you’ll make Petronilla wash them.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Granny, will you let me wash the +windows?” Maida asked ecstatically.</p> + +<p>“When you’re grand and sthrong,” +Granny promised.</p> + +<p>“I know just how I’ll furnish the room,” +Billy said half to himself.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy, tell me!” Maida begged.</p> + +<p>“Can’t,” he protested mischievously. +“You’ve got to wait till it’s all finished before +you see hide or hair of it.”</p> + +<p>“I know I’ll die of curiosity,” Maida protested. +“But then of course I shall be very +busy with my own business.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes,” Billy replied. “Now that +you’ve embarked on a mercantile career, +Miss Westabrook, I think you’ll find that +you’ll have less and less time for the decorative +side of life.”</p> + +<p>Billy spoke so seriously that most little +girls would have been awed by his manner. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +But Maida recognized the tone that he always +employed when he was joking her. +Beside, his eyes were all “skrinkled up.” +She did not quite understand what the joke +was, but she smiled back at him.</p> + +<p>“Now can we look at the things downstairs?” +she pleaded.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Billy assented. “To-day is a +very important day. Behind locked doors +and sealed windows, we’re going to take account +of stock.”</p> + +<p>Granny Flynn remained in the bedrooms +to make all kinds of mysterious measurements, +to open and shut doors, to examine +closets, to try window-sashes, even to poke +her head up the chimney.</p> + +<p>Downstairs, Billy and Maida opened +boxes and boxes and boxes and drawers and +drawers and drawers. Every one of these +had been carefully gone over by the conscientious +Mrs. Murdock. Two boxes bulged +with toys, too broken or soiled to be of any +use. These they threw into the ash-barrel +at once. What was left they dumped on +the floor. Maida and Billy sat down beside +the heap and examined the things, one by +one. Maida had never seen such toys in her +life—so cheap and yet so amusing. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was hard work to keep to business with +such enchanting temptation to play all about +them. Billy insisted on spinning every top—he +got five going at once—on blowing every +balloon—he produced such dreadful +wails of agony that Granny came running +downstairs in great alarm—on jumping +with every jump-rope—the short ones +tripped him up and once he sprawled headlong—on +playing jackstones—Maida beat +him easily at this—on playing marbles—with +a piece of crayon he drew a ring on the +floor—on looking through all the books—he +declared that he was going to buy some little +penny-pamphlet fairy-tales as soon as he +could save the money. But in spite of all +this fooling, they really accomplished a +great deal.</p> + +<p>They found very few eatables—candy, +fruit, or the like. Mrs. Murdock had wisely +sold out this perishable stock. One glass +jar, however, was crammed full of what +Billy recognized to be “bulls-eyes”—round +lumps of candy as big as plums and as hard +as stones. Billy said that he loved bulls-eyes +better than terrapin or broiled live +lobster, that he had not tasted one since he +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +was “half-past ten.” For the rest of the +day, one of his cheeks stuck out as if he had +the toothache.</p> + +<p>They came across all kinds of odds and +ends—lead pencils, blank-books, an old slate +pencil wrapped in gold paper which Billy +insisted on using to draw pictures on a +slate—he made this squeak so that Maida +clapped her hands over her ears. They +found single pieces from sets of miniature +furniture, a great many dolls, rag-dolls, +china dolls, celluloid dolls, the latest bisque +beauties, and two old-fashioned waxen darlings +whose features had all run together +from being left in too great a heat.</p> + +<p>They went through all these things, sorting +them into heaps which they afterwards +placed in boxes. At noon, Billy went out +and bought lunch. Still squatting on the +floor, the three of them ate sandwiches and +drank milk. Granny said that Maida had +never eaten so much at one meal.</p> + +<p>All this happened on Saturday. Maida +did not see the little shop again until it was +finished.</p> + +<p>By Monday the place was as busy as a +beehive. Men were putting in a furnace, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +putting in a telephone, putting in a bathroom, +whitening the plaster, painting the +woodwork.</p> + +<p>Finally came two days of waiting for the +paint to dry. “Will it ever, <span style="font-style: italic">ever</span>, EVER +dry?” Maida used to ask Billy in the most +despairing of voices.</p> + +<p>By Thursday, the rooms were ready for +their second coat of paint.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy, do tell me what color it +is—I +can’t wait to see it,” Maida begged.</p> + +<p>But, “Sky-blue-pink” was all she got +from Billy.</p> + +<p>Saturday the furniture came.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Maida had been going +to all the principal wholesale places in Boston +picking out new stock. Granny Flynn +accompanied her or stayed at home, according +to the way she felt, but Billy never +missed a trip.</p> + +<p>Maida enjoyed this tremendously, although +often she had to go to bed before +dark. She said it was the responsibility +that tired her.</p> + +<p>To Maida, these big wholesale places +seemed like the storehouses of Santa Claus. +In reality they were great halls, lined with +parallel rows of counters. The counters +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +were covered with boxes and the boxes were +filled with toys. Along the aisles between +the counters moved crowds of buyers, busily +examining the display.</p> + +<p>It was particularly hard for Maida to +choose, because she was limited by price. +She kept recalling Mrs. Murdock’s advice, +“Get as many things as you can for a cent +a-piece.” The expensive toys tempted her, +but although she often stopped and looked +them wistfully over, she always ended by +going to the cheaper counters.</p> + +<p>“You ought to be thinking how you’ll decorate +the windows for your first day’s sale,” +Billy advised her. “You must make it look +as tempting as possible. I think, myself, +it’s always a good plan to display the toys +that go with the season.”</p> + +<p>Maida thought of this a great deal after +she went to bed at night. By the end of the +week, she could see in imagination just how +her windows were going to look.</p> + +<p>Saturday night, Billy told her that everything +was ready, that she should see the +completed house Monday morning. It +seemed to Maida that the Sunday coming +in between was the longest day that she had +ever known. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>When she unlocked the door to the shop, +the next morning, she let out a little squeal +of joy. “Oh, I would never know it,” she +declared. “How much bigger it looks, and +lighter and prettier!”</p> + +<p>Indeed, you would never have known the +place yourself. The ceiling had been whitened. +The faded drab woodwork had been +painted white. The walls had been colored +a beautiful soft yellow. Back of the counter +a series of shelves, glassed in by sliding +doors, ran the whole length of the wall and +nearly to the ceiling. Behind the show case +stood a comfortable, cushioned swivel-chair.</p> + +<p>“The stuff you’ve been buying, Petronilla,” +Billy said, pointing to a big pile of +boxes in the corner. “Now, while Granny +and I are putting some last touches to the +rooms upstairs, you might be arranging the +window.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I planned to do,” +Maida said, bubbling with importance. +“But you promise not to interrupt me till +it’s all done.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” Billy agreed, smiling peculiarly. +He continued to smile as he opened +the boxes.</p> + +<p>It did not occur to Maida to ask them +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +what they were going to do upstairs. It did +not occur to her even to go up there. From +time to time, she heard Granny and Billy +laughing. “One of Billy’s jokes,” she said +to herself. Once she thought she heard the +chirp of a bird, but she would not leave her +work to find out what it was.</p> + +<p>When the twelve o’clock whistle blew, she +called to Granny and to Billy to come to +see the results of her morning’s labor.</p> + +<p>“I say!” Billy emitted a long loud whistle.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do you like it?” Maida asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>“It’s a grand piece of work, Petronilla,” +Billy said heartily.</p> + +<p>The window certainly struck the key-note +of the season. Tops of all sizes and colors +were arranged in pretty patterns in the middle. +Marbles of all kinds from the ten-for-a-cent +“peeweezers” up to the most beautiful, +colored “agates” were displayed at the +sides. Jump-ropes of variegated colors +with handles, brilliantly painted, were festooned +at the back. One of the window +shelves had been furnished like a tiny room. +A whole family of dolls sat about on the +tiny sofas and chairs. On the other shelf +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +lay neat piles of blank-books and paper-blocks, +with files of pens, pencils, and rubbers +arranged in a decorative pattern surrounding +them all.</p> + +<p>In the show case, fresh candies had been +laid out carefully on saucers and platters +of glass. On the counter was a big, flowered +bowl.</p> + +<p>“To-morrow, I’m going to fill that bowl +with asters,” Maida explained.</p> + +<p>“OI’m sure the choild has done foine,” +Granny Flynn said, “Oi cudn’t have done +betther mesilf.”</p> + +<p>“Now come and look at your rooms, Petronilla,” +Billy begged, his eyes dancing.</p> + +<p>Maida opened the door leading into the +living-room. Then she squealed her delight, +not once, but continuously, like a very +happy little pig.</p> + +<p>The room was as changed as if some good +fairy had waved a magic wand there. All +the woodwork had turned a glistening white. +The wall paper blossomed with garlands +of red roses, tied with snoods of red ribbons. +At each of the three windows waved +sash curtains of a snowy muslin. At each +of the three sashes hung a golden cage with +a pair of golden canaries in it. Along each +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +of the three sills marched pots of brilliantly-blooming +scarlet geraniums. A fire +spluttered and sparkled in the fireplace, and +drawn up in front of it was a big easy chair +for Granny, and a small easy one for Maida. +Familiar things lay about, too. In one corner +gleamed the cheerful face of the tall old +clock which marked the hours with so silvery +a voice and the moon-changes by such pretty +pictures. In another corner shone the polished +surface of a spidery-legged little +spinet. Maida loved both these things almost +as much as if they had been human beings, +for her mother and her grandmother +and her great-grandmother had loved them +before her. Needed things caught her eyes +everywhere. Here was a little bookcase +with all her favorite books. There was a +desk, stocked with business-like-looking +blank-books. Even the familiar table with +Granny’s “Book of Saints” stood near +the easy chair. Granny’s spectacles lay +on an open page, familiarly marking the +place. </p> + +<p>In the center of the room stood a table set +for three.</p> + +<p>“It’s just the dearest place,” Maida said. +“Billy, you’ve remembered everything. I +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +thought I heard a bird peep once, but I was +too busy to think about it.”</p> + +<p>“Want to go upstairs?” Billy asked.</p> + +<p>“I’d forgotten all about bedrooms.” +Maida flew up the stairs as if she had never +known a crutch.</p> + +<p>The two bedrooms were very simple, all +white—woodwork, furniture, beds, even the +fur rugs on the floor. But they were wonderfully +gay from the beautiful paper that +Billy had selected. In Granny’s room, the +walls imitated a flowered chintz. But in +Maida’s room every panel was different. +And they all helped to tell the same happy +story of a day’s hunting in the time when +men wore long feathered hats on their curls, +when ladies dressed like pictures and all +carried falcons on their wrists.</p> + +<p>“Granny, Granny,” Maida called down to +them, “Did you ever see any place in all +your life that felt so <span style="font-style: italic">homey</span>?”</p> + +<p>“I guess it will do,” Billy said in an undertone.</p> + +<p>That night, for the first time, Maida slept +in the room over the little shop.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>THE FIRST DAY</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>If you had gone into the little shop the +next day, you would have seen a very +pretty picture.</p> + +<p>First of all, I think you would have noticed +the little girl who sat behind the +counter—a little girl in a simple blue-serge +dress and a fresh white “tire”—a little girl +with shining excited eyes and masses of +pale-gold hair, clinging in tendrilly rings +about a thin, heart-shaped face—a little +girl who kept saying as she turned round +and round in her swivel-chair:</p> + +<p>“Oh, Granny, do you think <span style="font-style: italic">anybody’s</span> +going to buy <span style="font-style: italic">anything</span> to-day?”</p> + +<p>Next I think you would have noticed an +old woman who kept coming to the living-room +door—an old woman in a black gown +and a white apron so stiffly starched that it +rattled when it touched anything—an old +woman with twinkling blue eyes and hair, +enclosing, as in a silver frame, a little +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +carved nut of a face—an old woman who +kept soothing the little girl with a cheery:</p> + +<p>“Now joost you be patient, my lamb, sure +somebody’ll be here soon.”</p> + +<p>The shop was unchanged since yesterday, +except for a big bowl of asters, red, white +and blue.</p> + +<p>“Three cheers for the red, white and +blue,” Maida sang when she arranged them. +She had been singing at intervals ever since. +Suddenly the latch slipped. The bell rang.</p> + +<p>Maida jumped. Then she sat so still in +her high chair that you would have thought +she had turned to stone. But her eyes, +glued to the moving door, had a look as if +she did not know what to expect.</p> + +<p>The door swung wide. A young man entered. +It was Billy Potter.</p> + +<p>He walked over to the show case, his hat +in his hand. And all the time he looked +Maida straight in the eye. But you would +have thought he had never seen her before.</p> + +<p>“Please, mum,” he asked humbly, “do +you sell fairy-tales here?”</p> + +<p>Maida saw at once that it was one of +Billy’s games. She had to bite her lips to +keep from laughing. “Yes,” she said, when +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +she had made her mouth quite firm. “How +much do you want to pay for them?”</p> + +<p>“Not more than a penny each, mum,” he +replied.</p> + +<p>Maida took out of a drawer the pamphlet-tales +that Billy had liked so much.</p> + +<p>“Are these what you want?” she asked. +But before he could answer, she added in a +condescending tone, “Do you know how to +read, little boy?”</p> + +<p>Billy’s face twitched suddenly and his +eyes “skrinkled up.” Maida saw with a +mischievous delight that he, in his turn, was +trying to keep the laughter back.</p> + +<p>“Yes, mum,” he said, making his face +quite serious again. “My teacher says I’m +the best reader in the room.”</p> + +<p>He took up the little books and looked +them over. “‘The Three Boars’—no,‘Bears,’” +he corrected himself. “‘Puss-in-Boats’—no, ‘Boots’; +‘Jack-and-the-Bean-Scalp’—no,‘Stalk’; +‘Jack the Joint-Cooler’—no, ‘Giant-Killer’; +‘Cinderella,’ ‘Bluebird’—no, ‘Bluebeard’; +‘Little Toody-Goo-Shoes’—no, ‘Little Goody-Two-Shoes’; +‘Tom Thumb,’ ‘The Sweeping Beauty,’— +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +‘The Babes in the Wood.’ I guess I’ll take these ten, mum.”</p> + +<p>He felt in all his pockets, one after another. +After a long time, he brought out +some pennies, “One, two, three, four, five, +six, seven, eight, nine, ten,” he counted +slowly.</p> + +<p>He took the books, turned and left the +shop. Maida watched him in astonishment. +Was he really going for good?</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the little bell tinkled a +second time and there stood Billy again.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Petronilla,” he said +pleasantly, as if he had not seen her before +that morning, “How’s business?”</p> + +<p>“Fine!” Maida responded promptly. +“I’ve just sold ten fairy books to the funniest +little boy you ever saw.”</p> + +<p>“My stars and garters!” Billy exclaimed. +“Business surely is brisk. Keep that up +and you can afford to have a cat. I’ve +brought you something.”</p> + +<p>He opened the bag he carried and took a +box out from it. “Hold out your two +hands,—it’s heavy,” he warned.</p> + +<p>In spite of his preparation, the box +nearly fell to the floor—it was so much +heavier than Maida expected. “What can +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +be in it?” she cried excitedly. She pulled +the cover off—then murmured a little “oh!” +of delight.</p> + +<p>The box was full—cram-jam full—of pennies; +pennies so new that they looked like +gold—pennies so many that they looked like +a fortune.</p> + +<p>“Gracious, what pretty money!” Maida +exclaimed. “There must be a million +here.”</p> + +<p>“Five hundred,” Billy corrected her.</p> + +<p>He put some tiny cylindrical rolls of +paper on the counter. Maida handled them +curiously—they, too, were heavy.</p> + +<p>“Open them,” Billy commanded.</p> + +<p>Maida pulled the papers away from the +tops. Bright new dimes fell out of one, +bright new nickels came from the other.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m so glad to have nice clean +money,” Maida said in a satisfied tone. +She emptied the money drawer and filled +its pockets with the shining coins. “It was +very kind of you to think of it, Billy. I +know it will please the children.” The +thought made her eyes sparkle.</p> + +<p>The bell rang again. Billy went out to +talk with Granny, leaving Maida alone to +cope with her first strange customer. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>Again her heart began to jump into her +throat. Her mouth felt dry on the inside. +She watched the door, fascinated.</p> + +<p>On the threshold two little girls were +standing. They were exactly of the same +size, they were dressed in exactly the same +way, their faces were as alike as two peas +in a pod. Maida saw at once that they were +twins. They had little round, chubby +bodies, bulging out of red sweaters; little +round, chubby faces, emerging from tall, +peaky, red-worsted caps. They had big +round eyes as expressionless as glass beads +and big round golden curls as stiff as candles. +They stared so hard at Maida that she +began to wonder nervously if her face were +dirty.</p> + +<p>“Come in, little girls,” she called.</p> + +<p>The little girls pattered over to the show +case and looked in. But their big round +eyes, instead of examining the candy, kept +peering up through the glass top at Maida. +And Maida kept peering down through it at +them.</p> + +<p>“I want to buy some candy for a cent,” +one of them whispered in a timid little +voice.</p> + +<p>“I want to buy some candy for a cent, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +too,” the other whispered in a voice, even +more timid.</p> + +<p>“All the cent candy is in this case,” Maida +explained, smiling.</p> + +<p>“What are you going to have, Dorothy?” +one of them asked.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. What are you going to +have, Mabel?” the other answered. They +discussed everything in the one-cent case. +Always they talked in whispers. And they +continued to look more often at Maida than +at the candy.</p> + +<p>“Have you anything two-for-a-cent?” +Mabel whispered finally.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes—all the candy in this corner.”</p> + +<p>The two little girls studied the corner +Maida indicated. For two or three moments +they whispered together. At one +point, it looked as if they would each buy +a long stick of peppermint, at another, a +paper of lozenges. But they changed their +minds a great many times. And in the end, +Dorothy bought two large pickles and Mabel +bought two large chocolates. Maida saw +them swapping their purchases as they went +out.</p> + +<p>The two pennies which the twins handed +her were still moist from the hot little hands +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +that had held them. Maida dropped them +into an empty pocket in the money drawer. +She felt as if she wanted to keep her first +earnings forever. It seemed to her that she +had never seen such <span style="font-style: italic">precious-looking</span> money. +The gold eagles which her father had given +her at Christmas and on her birthday did +not seem half so valuable.</p> + +<p>But she did not have much time to think +of all this. The bell rang again. This time +it was a boy—a big fellow of about fourteen, +she guessed, an untidy-looking boy with +large, intent black eyes. A mass of black +hair, which surely had not been combed, fell +about a face that as certainly had not been +washed that morning.</p> + +<p>“Give me one of those blue tops in the +window,” he said gruffly. He did not add +these words but his manner seemed to say, +“And be quick about it!” He threw his +money down on the counter so hard that +one of the pennies spun off into a corner.</p> + +<p>He did not offer to pick the penny up. +He did not even apologize. And he looked +very carefully at the top Maida handed him +as if he expected her to cheat him. Then he +walked out.</p> + +<p>It was getting towards school-time. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +Children seemed to spring up everywhere +as if they grew out of the ground. The +quiet streets began to ring with the cries of +boys playing tag, leap frog and prisoners’ +base. The little girls, much more quiet, +squatted in groups on doorsteps or walked +slowly up and down, arm-in-arm. But +Maida had little time to watch this picture. +The bell was ringing every minute now. +Once there were six children in the little +shop together.</p> + +<p>“Do you need any help?” Granny called.</p> + +<p>“No, Granny, not yet,” Maida answered +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>But just the same, she did have to hurry. +The children asked her for all kinds of +things and sometimes she could not remember +where she had put them. When in answer +to the school bell the long lines began +to form at the big doorways, two round red +spots were glowing in Maida’s cheeks. She +drew an involuntary sigh of relief when she +realized that she was going to have a chance +to rest. But first she counted the money +she had taken in. Thirty-seven cents! It +seemed a great deal to her.</p> + +<p>For an hour or more, nobody entered the +shop. Billy left in a little while for Boston. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +Granny, crooning an old Irish song, +busied herself upstairs in her bedroom. +Maida sat back in her chair, dreaming +happily of her work. Suddenly the bell +tinkled, rousing her with a start.</p> + +<p>It seemed a long time after the bell rang +before the door opened. But at last Maida +saw the reason of the delay. The little boy +who stood on the threshold was lame. +Maida would have known that he was +sick even if she had not seen the crutches +that held him up, or the iron cage that confined +one leg.</p> + +<p>His face was as colorless as if it had been +made of melted wax. His forehead was +lined almost as if he were old. A tired expression +in his eyes showed that he did not +sleep like other children. He must often +suffer, too—his mouth had a drawn look +that Maida knew well.</p> + +<p>The little boy moved slowly over to the +counter. It could hardly be said that he +walked. He seemed to swing between his +crutches exactly as a pendulum swings in a +tall clock. Perhaps he saw the sympathy +that ran from Maida’s warm heart to her +pale face, for before he spoke he smiled. +And when he smiled you could not possibly +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +think of him as sick or sad. The corners +of his mouth and the corners of his eyes +seemed to fly up together. It made your +spirits leap just to look at him.</p> + +<p>“I’d like a sheet of red tissue paper,” he +said briskly.</p> + +<p>Maida’s happy expression changed. It +was the first time that anybody had asked +her for anything which she did not have.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I haven’t any,” she said regretfully.</p> + +<p>The boy looked disappointed. He started +to go away. Then he turned hopefully. +“Mrs. Murdock always kept her tissue paper +in that drawer there,” he said, pointing.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I do remember,” Maida exclaimed. +She recalled now a few sheets +of tissue paper that she had left there, not +knowing what to do with them. She pulled +the drawer open. There they were, neatly +folded, as she had left them.</p> + +<p>“What did Mrs. Murdock charge for +it?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“A cent a sheet.”</p> + +<p>Maida thought busily. “I’m selling out +all the old stock,” she said. “You can +have all that’s left for a cent if you want +it.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Sure!” the boy exclaimed. “Jiminy +crickets! That’s a stroke of luck I wasn’t +expecting.”</p> + +<p>He spread the half dozen sheets out on +the counter and ran through them. He +looked up into Maida’s face as if he wanted +to thank her but did not know how to put +it. Instead, he stared about the shop. +“Say,” he exclaimed, “you’ve made this +store look grand. I’d never know it for the +same place. And your sign’s a crackajack.”</p> + +<p>The praise—the first she had had from +outside—pleased Maida. It emboldened +her to go on with the conversation.</p> + +<p>“You don’t go to school,” she said.</p> + +<p>The moment she had spoken, she regretted +it. It was plain to be seen, she reproached +herself inwardly, why he did not +go to school.</p> + +<p>“No,” the boy said soberly. “I can’t go +yet. Doc O’Brien says I can go next year, +he thinks. I’m wild to go. The other fellows +hate school but I love it. I s’pose it’s +because I can’t go that I want to. But, +then, I want to learn to read. A fellow can +have a good time anywhere if he knows +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +how to read. I can read some,” he added +in a shamed tone, “but not much. The +trouble is I don’t have anybody to listen +and help with the hard words.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, let me help you!” Maida cried. “I +can read as easy as anything.” This was +the second thing she regretted saying. For +when she came to think of it, she could not +see where she was going to have much time +to herself.</p> + +<p>But the little lame boy shook his head. +“Can’t,” he said decidedly. “You see, I’m +busy at home all day long and you’ll be +busy here. My mother works out and I +have to do most of the housework and take +care of the baby. Pretty slow work on +crutches, you know—although it’s easy +enough getting round after you get the hang +of it. No, I really don’t have any time to +fool until evenings.”</p> + +<p>“Evenings!” Maida exclaimed electrically. +“Why, that’s just the right time! +You see I’m pretty busy myself during the +daytime—at my business.” Her voice grew +a little important on that last phrase. +“Granny! Granny!” she called.</p> + +<p>Granny Flynn appeared in the doorway. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +Her eyes grew soft with pity when they +fell on the little lame boy. “The poor little +gossoon!” she murmured.</p> + +<p>“Granny,” Maida explained, “this little +boy can’t go to school because his mother +works all day and he has to do the housework +and take care of the baby, too, and he +wants to learn to read because he thinks he +won’t be half so lonely with books, and you +know, Granny, that’s perfectly true, for I +never suffered half so much with my legs +after I learned to read.”</p> + +<p>It had all poured out in an uninterrupted +stream. She had to stop here to get breath.</p> + +<p>“Now, Granny, what I want you to do is +to let me hear him read evenings until he +learns how. You see his mother comes +home then and he can leave the baby with +her. Oh, do let me do it, Granny! I’m sure +I could. And I really think you ought to. +For, if you’ll excuse me for saying so, +Granny, I don’t think you can understand +as well as I do what a difference it will +make.” She turned to the boy. “Have +you read ‘Little Men’ and ‘Little Women’?”</p> + +<p>“No—why, I’m only in the first reader.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll read them to you,” Maida said decisively, +“and ‘Treasure Island’ and ‘The +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +Princes and the Goblins’ and ‘The Princess +and Curdie.’” She reeled off the long list +of her favorites.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Granny was considering +the matter. Dr. Pierce had said to her of +Maida: “Let her do anything that she +wants to do—as long as it doesn’t interfere +with her eating and sleeping. The main +thing to do is to get her <span style="font-style: italic">to want to do +things</span>.”</p> + +<p>“What’s your name, my lad?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Dicky Dore, ma’am,” the boy answered +respectfully.</p> + +<p>“Well, Oi don’t see why you shouldn’t +thry ut, acushla,” she said to Maida. “A +half an hour iv’ry avening after dinner. +Sure, in a wake, ’twill be foine and grand +we’ll be wid the little store running like a +clock.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll begin next week, Monday,” Maida +said eagerly. “You come over here right +after dinner.”</p> + +<p>“All right.” The little lame boy looked +very happy but, again, he did not seem to +know what to say. “Thank you, ma’am,” +he brought out finally. “And you, too,” +turning to Maida.</p> + +<p>“My name’s Maida.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Thank you, Maida,” the boy said with +even a greater display of bashfulness. He +settled the crutches under his thin shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t go, yet,” Maida pleaded. “I +want to ask you some questions. Tell me +the names of those dear little girls—the +twins.”</p> + +<p>Dicky Dore smiled his radiant smile. +“Their last name’s Clark. Say, ain’t they +the dead ringers for each other? I can’t +tell Dorothy from Mabel or Mabel from +Dorothy.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t, either,” Maida laughed. “It +must be fun to be a twin—to have any kind +of a sister or brother. Who’s that big boy—the +one with the hair all hanging down on +his face?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s Arthur Duncan.” Dicky’s +whole face shone. “He’s a dandy. He can +lick any boy of his size in the neighborhood. +I bet he could lick any boy of his size in the +world. I bet he could lick his weight in +wild-cats.”</p> + +<p>Maida’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t like +him,” she said. “He’s not polite.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I like him,” Dicky Dore maintained +stoutly. “He’s the best friend I’ve +got anywhere. Arthur hasn’t any mother, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +and his father’s gone all day. He takes +care of himself. He comes over to my place +a lot. You’ll like him when you know +him.”</p> + +<p>The bell tinkling on his departure did not +ring again till noon. But Maida did not +mind.</p> + +<p>“Granny,” she said after Dicky left, “I +think I’ve made a friend. Not a friend +somebody’s brought to me—but a friend of +my very own. Just think of that!”</p> + +<p>At twelve, Maida watched the children +pour out of the little schoolhouse and disappear +in all directions. At two, she watched +them reappear from all directions and pour +into it again. But between those hours she +was so busy that she did not have time to +eat her lunch until school began again. +After that, she sat undisturbed for an hour.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the afternoon, the bell +rang with an important-sounding tinkle. +Immediately after, the door shut with an +important-sounding slam. The footsteps, +clattering across the room to the show case, +had an important-sounding tap. And the +little girl, who looked inquisitively across +the counter at Maida, had decidedly an important +manner. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>She was not a pretty child. Her skin was +too pasty, her blue eyes too full and staring. +But she had beautiful braids of glossy +brown hair that came below her waist. +And you would have noticed her at once because +of the air with which she wore her +clothes and because of a trick of holding her +head very high.</p> + +<p>Maida could see that she was dressed very +much more expensively than the other children +in the neighborhood. Her dark, blue +coat was elaborate with straps and bright +buttons. Her pale-blue beaver hat was covered +with pale-blue feathers. She wore a +gold ring with a turquoise in it, a silver +bracelet with a monogram on it, a little gun-metal +watch pinned to her coat with a gun-metal +pin, and a long string of blue beads +from which dangled a locket.</p> + +<p>Maida noticed all this decoration with +envy, for she herself was never permitted +to wear jewelry. Occasionally, Granny +would let her wear one string from a big box +of bead necklaces which Maida had bought +in Venice.</p> + +<p>“How much is that candy?” the girl +asked, pointing to one of the trays.</p> + +<p>Maida told her. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Dear me, haven’t you anything better +than that?”</p> + +<p>Maida gave her all her prices.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid there’s nothing good enough +here,” the little girl went on disdainfully. +“My mother won’t let me eat cheap candy. +Generally, she has a box sent over twice a +week from Boston. But the one we expected +to-day didn’t come.”</p> + +<p>“The little girl likes to make people think +that she has nicer things than anybody +else,” Maida thought. She started to +speak. If she had permitted herself to go +on, she would have said: “The candy in +this shop is quite good enough for any little +girl. But I won’t sell it to you, anyway.” +But, instead, she said as quietly as she could: +“No, I don’t believe there’s anything here +that you’ll care for. But I’m sure you’ll +find lots of expensive candy on Main +Street.”</p> + +<p>The little girl evidently was not expecting +that answer. She lingered, still looking +into the show case. “I guess I’ll take +five cents’ worth of peppermints,” she said +finally. Some of the importance had gone +out of her voice.</p> + +<p>Maida put the candy into a bag and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +handed it to her without speaking. The +girl bustled towards the door. Half-way, +she stopped and came back.</p> + +<p>“My name is Laura Lathrop,” she said. +“What’s yours?”</p> + +<p>“Maida.”</p> + +<p>“Maida?” the girl repeated questioningly. +“Maida?—oh, yes, I know—Maida +Flynn. Where did you live before you +came here?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, lots of places.”</p> + +<p>“But where?” Laura persisted.</p> + +<p>“Boston, New York, Newport, Pride’s +Crossing, the Adirondacks, Europe.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my! Have you been to Europe?” +Laura’s tone was a little incredulous.</p> + +<p>“I lived abroad a year.”</p> + +<p>“Can you speak French?”</p> + +<p>“Oui, Mademoiselle, je parle Français un +peu.”</p> + +<p>“Say some more,” Laura demanded.</p> + +<p>Maida smiled. “Un, deux, trois, quatre, +cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix, onze, +douze—”</p> + +<p>Laura looked impressed. “Do you speak +any other language?”</p> + +<p>“Italian and German—a very little.”</p> + +<p>Laura stared hard at her and her look +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +was full of question. But it was evident +that she decided to believe Maida.</p> + +<p>“I live in Primrose Court,” she said, and +now there was not a shadow of condescension +left in her voice. “That large house +at the back with the big lawn about it. I’d +like to have you come and play with me +some afternoon. I’m very busy most of the +time, though. I take music and fancy +dancing and elocution. Next winter, I’m +going to take up French. I’ll send you +word some afternoon when I have time to +play.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” Maida said in her most +civil voice. “Come and play with me sometime,” +she added after a pause.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my mother doesn’t let me play in +other children’s houses,” Laura said airily. +“Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>“Good-bye,” Maida answered.</p> + +<p>She waited until Laura had disappeared +into the court. “Granny,” she called impetuously, +“a little girl’s been here who I +think is the hatefullest, horridest, disagreeablest +thing I ever saw in my life.”</p> + +<p>“Why, what did the choild do?” Granny +asked in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Do?” Maida repeated. “She did everything. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +Why, she—she—” She interrupted +herself to think hard a moment. “Well, +it’s the queerest thing. I can’t tell +you a thing she did, Granny, and yet, all +the time she was here I wanted to slap +her.”</p> + +<p>“There’s manny folks that-a-way,” said +Granny. “The woisest way is to take no +notuce av ut.”</p> + +<p>“Take no notice of it!” Maida stormed. +“It’s just like not taking any notice of a +bee when it’s stinging you.”</p> + +<p>Maida was so angry that she walked into +the living-room without limping.</p> + +<p>At four that afternoon, when the children +came out of school, there was another flurry +of trade. Towards five, it slackened. +Maida sat in her swivel-chair and wistfully +watched the scene in the court. Little boys +were playing top. Little girls were jumping +rope. Once she saw a little girl in a +scarlet cape come out of one of the yards. +On one shoulder perched a fluffy kitten. +Following her, gamboled an Irish setter +and a Skye terrier. Presently it grew dark +and the children began to go indoors. Maida +lighted the gas and lost herself in “Gulliver’s +Travels.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>The sound of voices attracted her attention +after awhile. She turned in her chair. +Outside, staring into the window, stood a +little boy and girl—a ragged, dirty pair. +Their noses pressed so hard against the +glass that they were flattened into round +white circles. They took no notice of +Maida. Dropping her eyes to her book, she +pretended to read.</p> + +<p>“I boneys that red top, first,” said the +little boy in a piping voice.</p> + +<p>He was a round, brown, pop-eyed, big-mouthed +little creature. Maida could not +decide which he looked most like—a frog or +a brownie. She christened him “the Bogle” +at once.</p> + +<p>“I boneys that little pink doll with the +curly hair, first,” said the girl.</p> + +<p>She was a round, brown little creature, +too—but pretty. She had merry brown +eyes and a merry little red and white smile. +Maida christened her “the Robin.”</p> + +<p>“I boneys that big agate, second,” said +the Bogle.</p> + +<p>“I boneys that little table, second,” said +the Robin.</p> + +<p>“I boneys that knife, third,” said the Bogle. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I boneys that little chair, third,” said +the Robin.</p> + +<p>Maida could not imagine what kind of +game they were playing. She went to the +door. “Come in, children,” she called.</p> + +<p>The children jumped and started to run +away. But they stopped a little way off, +turned and stood as if they were not certain +what to do. Finally the Robin marched +over to Maida’s side and the Bogle followed.</p> + +<p>“Tell me about the game you were playing,” +Maida said. “I never heard of it before.”</p> + +<p>“’Tain’t any game,” the Bogle said.</p> + +<p>“We were just boneying,” the Robin explained. +“Didn’t you ever boney anything?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Why, you boneys things in store windows,” +the Robin went on. “You always +boney with somebody else. You choose one +thing for yours and they choose something +else for theirs until everything in the window +is all chosen up. But of course they +don’t really belong to you. You only play +they do.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>She went to the window and took out the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +red top and the little pink doll with curly +hair. “Here, these are the things you boneyed +first. You may have them.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, thank you—thank you—thank you,” +the Robin exclaimed. She kissed the little +pink doll ecstatically, stopping now and then +to look gratefully at Maida.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” the Bogle echoed. He did +not look at Maida but he began at once to +wind his top.</p> + +<p>“What is your name?” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“Molly Doyle,” the Robin answered. +“And this is my brother, Timmie Doyle.”</p> + +<p>“My name’s Maida. Come and see me +again, Molly, and you, too, Timmie.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I’ll come,” Molly answered, +“and I’m going to name my doll ‘Maida.’”</p> + +<p>Molly ran all the way home, her doll +tightly clutched to her breast. But Timmie +stopped to spin his top six times—Maida +counted.</p> + +<p>No more customers came that evening. +At six, Maida closed and locked the shop.</p> + +<p>After dinner she thought she would read +one of her new books. She settled herself +in her little easy chair by the fire and opened +to a story with a fascinating picture. But +the moment her eyes fell on the page—it +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +was the strangest thing—a drowsiness, as +deep as a fairy’s enchantment, fell upon her. +She struggled with it for awhile, but she +could not throw it off. The next thing she +knew, Granny was helping her up the stairs, +was undressing her, had laid her in her bed. +The next thing she was saying dreamily, +“I made one dollar and eighty-seven cents +to-day. If my papa ever gets into any more +trouble in Wall Street, he can borrow from +me.”</p> + +<p>The next thing, she felt the pillow soft +and cool under her cheek. The next thing—bright +sunlight was pouring through the +window—it was morning again.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>THE SECOND DAY</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>It had rained all that night, but the second +morning dawned the twinklingest kind +of day. It seemed to Maida that Mother +Nature had washed a million tiny, fleecy, +white clouds and hung them out to dry in +the crisp blue air. Everything still dripped +but the brilliant sunshine put a sparkle on +the whole world. Slates of old roofs glistened, +brasses of old doors glittered, silver +of old name-plates shone. Curbstones, +sidewalks, doorsteps glimmered and gleamed. +The wet, ebony-black trunks of the +maples smoked as if they were afire, their +thick-leaved, golden heads flared like burning +torches. Maida stood for a long time at +the window listening to a parrot who called +at intervals from somewhere in the neighborhood. +“Get up, you sleepy-heads! Get +up! Get up!”</p> + +<p>A huge puddle stretched across Primrose +Court. When Maida took her place in the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +swivel-chair, three children had begun already +to float shingles across its muddy expanse. +Two of them were Molly and Tim +Doyle, the third a little girl whom Maida +did not know. For a time she watched +them, fascinated. But, presently, the +school children crowding into the shop took +all her attention. After the bell rang and +the neighborhood had become quiet again, +she resumed her watch of the mud-puddle +fun.</p> + +<p>Now they were loading their shingles with +leaves, twigs, pebbles, anything that they +could find in the gutters. By lashing the +water into waves, as they trotted in the +wake of their frail craft, they managed to +sail them from one end of the puddle to the +other. Maida followed the progress of +these merchant vessels as breathlessly as +their owners. Some capsized utterly. +Others started to founder and had to be +dragged ashore. A few brought the cruise +to a triumphant finish.</p> + +<p>But Tim soon put an end to this fun. +Unexpectedly, his foot caught somewhere +and he sprawled headlong in the tide. “Oh, +Tim!” Molly said. But she said it without +surprise or anger. And Tim lay flat on his +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +stomach without moving, as if it were a +common occurrence with him. Molly waded +out to him, picked him up and marched him +into the house.</p> + +<p>The other little girl had disappeared. +Suddenly she came out of one of the yards, +clasping a Teddy-bear and a whole family +of dolls in her fat arms. She sat down at +the puddle’s edge and began to undress +them. Maida idly watched the busy little +fingers—one, two, three, four, five—now +there were six shivering babies. What was +she going to do with them? Maida wondered.</p> + +<p>“Granny,” Maida called, “do come and +see this little girl! She’s—” But Maida +did not finish that sentence in words. It +ended in a scream. For suddenly the little +girl threw the Teddy-bear and all the six +dolls into the puddle. Maida ran out the +door. Half-way across the court she met +Dicky Dore swinging through the water. +Between them they fished all the dolls out. +One was of celluloid and another of rubber—they +had floated into the middle of the +pond. Two china babies had sunk to the +very bottom—their white faces smiled +placidly up through the water at their rescuers. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +A little rag-doll lay close to the +shore, water-logged. A pretty paper-doll +had melted to a pulp. And the biggest and +prettiest of them, a lovely blonde creature +with a shapely-jointed body and a bisque +head, covered with golden curls, looked +hopelessly bedraggled.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Betsy Hale!” Dicky said. “You +naughty, naughty girl! How could you +drown your own children like that?”</p> + +<p>“I were divin’ them a baff,” Betsy explained.</p> + +<p>Betsy was a little, round butterball of a +girl with great brown eyes all tangled up in +eyelashes and a little pink rosebud of a +mouth, folded over two rows of mice-teeth. +She smiled deliciously up into Maida’s face:</p> + +<p>“I aren’t naughty, is I?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Naughty? You bunny-duck! Of course +you are,” Maida said, giving her a bear-hug. +“I don’t see how anybody can scold her,” +she whispered to Dicky.</p> + +<p>“Scold her! You can’t,” Dicky said disgustedly. +“She’s too cute. And then if +you did scold her it wouldn’t do any good. +She’s the naughtiest baby in the neighborhood—although,” +he added with pride, “I +think Delia’s going to be pretty nearly as +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +naughty when she gets big enough. But +Betsy Hale—why, the whole street has to +keep an eye on her. Come, pick up your +dollies, Betsy,” he wheedled, “they’ll get +cold if you leave them out here.”</p> + +<p>The thought of danger to her darlings +produced immediate activity on Betsy’s +part. She gathered the dolls under her +cape, hugging them close. “Her must put +her dollies to bed,” she said wisely.</p> + +<p>“Calls herself <span style="font-style: italic">her</span> half the time,” Dicky +explained. He gathered up the dresses and +shooing Betsy ahead of him, followed her +into the yard.</p> + +<p>“She’s the greatest child I ever saw,” he +said, rejoining Maida a little later. “The +things she thinks of to do! Why, the other +day, Miss Allison—the sister of the blind +lady what sits in the window and knits—the +one what owns the parrot—well, Miss Allison +painted one of her old chairs red and put +it out in the yard to dry. Then she washed a +whole lot of lace and put that out to dry. +Next thing she knew she looked out and +there was Betsy washing all the red paint +off the chair with the lace. You’d have +thought that would have been enough for +one day, wouldn’t you? Well, that afternoon +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +she turned the hose on Mr. Flanagan—that’s +the policeman on the beat.”</p> + +<p>“What did he say?” Maida asked in +alarm. She had a vague imaginary picture +of Betsy being dragged to the station-house.</p> + +<p>“Roared! But then Mr. Flanagan thinks +Betsy’s all right. Always calls her ’sophy +Sparkles.’ Betsy runs away about twice a +week. Mr. Flanagan’s always finding her +and lugging her home. I guess every policeman +in Charlestown knows her by this +time. There, look at her now! Did you +ever see such a kid?”</p> + +<p>Betsy had come out of the yard again. +She was carrying a huge feather duster over +her head as if it were a parasol.</p> + +<p>“The darling!” Maida said joyously. “I +hope she’ll do something naughty every +day.”</p> + +<p>“Queer how you love a naughty child,” +Dick said musingly. “They’re an awful +lot of trouble but you can’t help liking them. +Has Tim Doyle fallen into the puddle yet?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, just a little while ago.”</p> + +<p>“He’s always falling in mud puddles. I +guess if Molly fishes him out once after a +rain, she does a half a dozen times.”</p> + +<p>“Do come and see me, Dicky, won’t you?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +Maida asked when they got to the shop door. +“You know I shall be lonely when all the +children are in school and—then besides—you’re +the first friend I’ve made.”</p> + +<p>At the word <span style="font-style: italic">friend</span>, Dicky’s beautiful +smile shone bright. “Sure, I’ll come,” he +said heartily. “I’ll come often.”</p> + +<p>“Granny,” Maida exclaimed, bursting +into the kitchen, “wait until you hear about +Betsy Hale.” She told the whole story. +“Was I ever a naughty little girl?” she concluded.</p> + +<p>“Naughty? Glory be, and what’s ailing +you? ’Twas the best choild this side of +Heaven that you was. Always so sick and +yet niver a cross wurrud out of you.”</p> + +<p>A shadow fell over Maida’s face. “Oh, +dear, dear,” she grieved. “I wish I had been +a naughty child—people love naughty children +so. Are you quite sure I was always +good, Granny?”</p> + +<p>“Why, me blessid lamb, ’twas too sick +that you was to be naughty. You cud +hardly lift one little hand from the bed.”</p> + +<p>“But, Granny, dear,” Maida persisted, +“can’t you think of one single, naughty +thing I did? I’m sure you can if you try +hard.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>Maida’s face was touched with a kind of +sad wistfulness. Granny looked down at +her, considerably puzzled. Then a light +seemed to break in her mind. It shone +through her blue eyes and twinkled in her +smile.</p> + +<p>“Sure and Oi moind wance when Oi was +joost afther giving you some medicine and +you was that mad for having to take the +stuff that you sat oop in bed and knocked +iv’ry bottle off the table. Iv’ry wan! Sure, +we picked oop glass for a wake afther.”</p> + +<p>Maida’s wistful look vanished in a peal +of silvery laughter. “Did I really, Granny?” +she asked in delight. “Did I break +every bottle? Are you sure? Every one?”</p> + +<p>“Iv’ry wan as sure as OI’m a living sinner,” +said Granny. “Faith and ’twas the +bad little gyurl that you was often—now +that I sthop to t’ink av ut.”</p> + +<p>Maida bounded back to the shop in high +spirits. Granny heard her say “Every bottle!” +again and again in a whispering little +voice.</p> + +<p>“Just think, Granny,” she called after a +while. “I’ve made one, two, three, four, +five friends—Dicky, Molly, Tim, Betsy and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +Laura—though I don’t call her quite a +friend yet. Pretty good for so soon!”</p> + +<p>Maida was to make a sixth friend, although +not quite so quickly.</p> + +<p>It began that noontime with a strange little +scene that acted itself out in front of +Maida’s window. The children had begun +to gather for school, although it was still +very quiet. Suddenly around the corner +came a wild hullaballoo—the shouts of small +boys, the yelp of a dog, the rattle and clang +of tin dragged on the brick sidewalk. In +another instant appeared a dog, a small, +yellow cur, collarless and forlorn-looking, +with a string of tin cans tied to his tail, a +horde of small boys yelling after him and +pelting him with stones.</p> + +<p>Maida started up, but before she could get +to the door, something flashed like a scarlet +comet from across the street. It was the +little girl whom Maida had seen twice before—the +one who always wore the scarlet cape.</p> + +<p>Even in the excitement, Maida noticed +how handsome she was. She seemed proud. +She carried her slender, erect little body as +if she were a princess and her big eyes +cast flashing glances about her. Jet-black +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +were her eyes and hair, milk-white were +her teeth but in the olive of her cheeks +flamed a red such as could be matched only +in the deepest roses. Maida christened her +Rose-Red at once.</p> + +<p>Rose-Red lifted the little dog into her +arms with a single swoop of her strong arm. +She yanked the cans from its tail with a +single indignant jerk. Fondling the trembling +creature against her cheek, she talked +first to him, then to his abashed persecutors.</p> + +<p>“You sweet, little, darling puppy, you! +Did they tie the wicked cans to his poor little +tail!” and then—“if ever I catch one of +you boys treating a poor, helpless animal +like this again, I’ll shake the breath out of +your body—was he the beautifullest dog that +ever was? And if that isn’t enough, Arthur +Duncan will lick you all, won’t you, Arthur?” +She turned pleadingly to Arthur.</p> + +<p>Arthur nodded.</p> + +<p>“Nobody’s going to hurt helpless creatures +while I’m about! He was a sweet little, +precious little, pretty little puppy, so he +was.”</p> + +<p>Rose-Red marched into the court with the +puppy, opened a gate and dropped him inside. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That pup belongs to me, now,” she said +marching back.</p> + +<p>The school bell ringing at this moment +ended the scene.</p> + +<p>“Who’s that little girl who wears the +scarlet cape?” Maida asked Dorothy and +Mabel Clark when they came in together at +four.</p> + +<p>“Rosie Brine,” they answered in chorus.</p> + +<p>“She’s a dreffle naughty girl,” Mabel said +in a whisper, and “My mommer won’t let +me play with her,” Dorothy added.</p> + +<p>“Why not?” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“She’s a tom-boy,” Mabel informed her.</p> + +<p>“What’s a tom-boy?” Maida asked Billy +that night at dinner.</p> + +<p>“A tom-boy?” Billy repeated. “Why, a +tom-boy is a girl who acts like a boy.”</p> + +<p>“How can a girl be a boy?” Maida queried +after a few moments of thought. +“Why don’t they call her a tom-girl?”</p> + +<p>“Why, indeed?” Billy answered, taking +up the dictionary.</p> + +<p>Certainly Rosie Brine acted like a boy—Maida +proved that to herself in the next few +days when she watched Rose-Red again and +again. But if she were a tom-boy, she was +also, Maida decided, the most beautiful and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +the most wonderful little girl in the world. +And, indeed, Rosie was so full of energy +that it seemed to spurt out in the continual +sparkle of her face and the continual movement +of her body. She never walked. She +always crossed the street in a series of flying +jumps. She never went through a gate +if she could go over the fence, never climbed +the fence if she could vault it. The scarlet +cape was always flashing up trees, over +sheds, sometimes to the very roofs of the +houses. Her principal diversion seemed to +be climbing lamp-posts. Maida watched +this proceeding with envy. One athletic +leap and Rose-Red was clasping the iron +column half-way up—a few more and she +was swinging from the bars under the lantern. +But she was accomplished in other +ways. She could spin tops, play “cat” and +“shinney” as well as any of the boys. And +as for jumping rope—if two little girls +would swing for her, Rosie could actually +waltz in the rope.</p> + +<p>The strangest thing about Rosie was that +she did not always go to school like the other +children. The incident of the dog happened +on Thursday. Friday morning, when the +children filed into the schoolhouse, Rosie +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +did not follow them. Instead, she hid herself +in a doorway until after the bell rang. +A little later she sneaked out of her hiding +place, joined Arthur Duncan at the corner, +and disappeared into the distance. Just +before twelve they both came back. For a +few moments, they kept well concealed on a +side street, out of sight of Primrose Court. +But, at intervals, Rosie or Arthur would +dart out to a spot where, without being +seen, they could get a glimpse of the church +clock. When the children came out of +school at twelve, they joined the crowd and +sauntered home.</p> + +<p>Monday morning Maida saw them repeat +these maneuvers. She was completely +mystified by them and yet she had an uncomfortable +feeling. They were so stealthy +that she could not help guessing that something +underhand was going on.</p> + +<p>“Do you know Rosie Brine?” Maida +asked Dicky Dore one evening when they +were reading together.</p> + +<p>“Sure!” Dicky’s face lighted up. “Isn’t +she a peach?”</p> + +<p>“They say she is a tom-boy,” Maida objected. +“Is she?”</p> + +<p>“Surest thing you know,” Dicky said +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +cheerfully. “She won’t take a dare. You +ought to see her playing stumps. There’s +nothing a boy can do that she won’t do. +And have you noticed how she can spin a +top—the best I ever saw for a girl.”</p> + +<p>Then boys liked girls to be tom-boys. +This was a great surprise.</p> + +<p>“How does it happen that she doesn’t go +to school often?”</p> + +<p>Dicky grinned. “Hooking jack!”</p> + +<p>“Hooking jack?” Maida repeated in a +puzzled tone.</p> + +<p>“Hooking jack—playing hookey—playing +truant.” Dicky watched Maida’s face +but her expression was still puzzled. “Pretending +to go to school and not going,” he +said at last.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” Maida said. “I understand now.”</p> + +<p>“She just hates school,” Dicky went on. +“They can’t make her go. Old Stoopendale, +the truant officer, is always after her. +Little she cares for old Stoopy though. She +gets fierce beatings for it at home, too. +Funny thing about Rosie—she won’t tell a +lie. And when her mother asks her about +it, she always tells the truth. Sometimes +her mother will go to the schoolhouse door +with her every morning and afternoon for +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +a week. But the moment she stops, Rosie +begins to hook jack again.”</p> + +<p>“Mercy me!” Maida said. In all her +short life she had never heard anything like +this. She was convinced that Rosie Brine +was a very naughty little girl. And yet, +underneath this conviction, burned an ardent +admiration for her.</p> + +<p>“She must be very brave,” she said soberly.</p> + +<p>“Brave! Well, I guess you’d think so! +Arthur Duncan says she’s braver than a lot +of boys he knows. Arthur and she hook +jack together sometimes. And, oh cracky, +don’t they have the good times! They go +down to the Navy Yard and over to the +Monument Grounds. Sometimes they go +over to Boston Common and the Public Garden. +Once they walked all the way to +Franklin Park. And in the summer they +often walk down to Crescent Beach. They +say when I get well, I can go with them.”</p> + +<p>Dicky spoke in the wistful tone with +which he always related the deeds of +stronger children. Maida knew exactly +how he felt—she had been torn by the same +hopes and despairs.</p> + +<p>“Oh, wouldn’t it be grand to be able to +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +do just anything?” she said. “I’m just beginning +to feel as if I could do some of the +things I’ve always wanted to do.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to do them all, sometime,” +Dicky prophesied. “Doc O’Brien says +so.”</p> + +<p>“I think Rosie the beautifullest little +girl,” Maida said. “I wish she’d come into +the shop so that I could get acquainted with +her.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, she’ll come in sometime. You see +the W.M.N.T. is meeting now and we’re +all pretty busy. She’s the only girl in it.”</p> + +<p>“The W.M.N.T.,” Maida repeated. +“What does that mean?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t tell?” Dicky said regretfully. +“It’s the name of our club. Rosie and Arthur +and I are the only ones who belong.”</p> + +<p>After that talk, Maida watched Rosie +Brine closer than ever. If she caught a +glimpse of the scarlet cape in the distance, +it was hard to go on working. She noticed +that Rosie seemed very fond of all helpless +things. She was always wheeling out the +babies in the neighborhood, always feeding +the doves and carrying her kitten about on +her shoulder, always winning the hearts of +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +other people’s dogs and then trying to induce +them not to follow her.</p> + +<p>“It seems strange that she never comes +into the shop,” Maida said mournfully to +Dicky one day.</p> + +<p>“You see she never has any money to +spend,” Dicky explained. “That’s the way +her mother punishes her. But sometimes +she earns it on the sly taking care of babies. +She loves babies and babies always love her. +Delia’ll go to her from my mother any time +and as for Betsy Hale—Rosie’s the only one +who can do anything with her.”</p> + +<p>But a whole week passed. And then one +day, to Maida’s great delight, the tinkle of +the bell preceded the entrance of Rose-Red.</p> + +<p>“Let me look at your tops, please,” Rosie +said, marching to the counter with the usual +proud swing of her body.</p> + +<p>Seen closer, she was even prettier than at +a distance. Her smooth olive skin glistened +like satin. Her lips showed roses even more +brilliant than those that bloomed in her +cheeks. A frown between her eyebrows +gave her face almost a sullen look. But to +offset this, her white teeth turned her smile +into a flash of light. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +Maida lifted all the tops from the window +and placed them on the counter.</p> + +<p>“Mind if I try them?” Rosie asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do.”</p> + +<p>Rosie wound one of them with an expert +hand. Then with a quick dash forward of +her whole arm, she threw the top to the +floor. It danced there, humming like a +whole hiveful of bees.</p> + +<p>“Oh, how lovely!” Maida exclaimed. +Then in fervent admiration: “What a +wonderful girl you are!”</p> + +<p>Rosie smiled. “Easy as pie if you know +how. Want to learn?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, will you teach me?”</p> + +<p>“Sure! Begin now.”</p> + +<p>Maida limped from behind the counter. +Rosie watched her. Rosie’s face softened +with the same pity that had shone on the +frightened little dog.</p> + +<p>“She’s sorry for me,” Maida thought. +“How sweet she looks!”</p> + +<p>But Rosie said nothing about Maida’s +limp. She explained the process of top-spinning +from end to end, step by step, +making Maida copy everything that she did. +At first Maida was too eager—her hands +actually trembled. But gradually she +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +gained in confidence. At last she succeeded +in making one top spin feebly.</p> + +<p>“Now you’ve got the hang of it,” Rosie +encouraged her, “You’ll soon learn. All +you want to do is to practice. I’ll come +to-morrow and see how you’re getting on.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, do,” Maida begged, “and come to +see me in the evening sometime. Come this +evening if your mother’ll let you.”</p> + +<p>Rosie laughed scornfully. “I guess nobody’s +got anything to say about <span style="font-style: italic">letting me</span>, +if I make up my mind to come. Well, goodbye!”</p> + +<p>She whirled out of the shop and soon the +scarlet cape was a brilliant spot in the distance.</p> + +<p>But about seven that evening the bell +rang. When Maida opened the door there +stood Rosie.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie,” Maida said joyfully, throwing +her arms about her guest, “how glad I +am to see you!” She hurried her into the +living-room where Billy Potter was talking +with Granny. “This is Rosie Brine, Billy,” +she said, her voice full of pride in her +new friend. “And this is Billy Potter, +Rosie.”</p> + +<p>Billy shook hands gravely with the little +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +girl. And Rosie looked at him in open +wonder. Maida knew exactly what she was +thinking. Rosie was trying to make up her +mind whether he was a boy or a man. The +problem seemed to grow more perplexing as +the evening went on. For part of the time +Billy played with them, sitting on the floor +like a boy, and part of the time he talked +with Granny, sitting in a chair like a man.</p> + +<p>Maida showed Rosie her books, her Venetian +beads, all her cherished possessions. +Rosie liked the canaries better than anything. +“Just think of having six!” she +said. Then, sitting upstairs in Maida’s bedroom, +the two little girls had a long confidential +talk.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been just crazy to know you, +Maida,” Rosie confessed. “But there was +no way of getting acquainted, for you always +stayed in the store. I had to wait until I +could tease mother to buy me a top.”</p> + +<p>“That’s funny,” Maida said, “for I was +just wild to know you. I kept hoping that +you’d come in. I hope you’ll come often, +Rosie, for I don’t know any other little girl +of my own age.”</p> + +<p>“You know Laura Lathrop, don’t you?” +Rosie asked with a sideways look. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, but I don’t like her.”</p> + +<p>“Nobody likes her,” Rosie said. “She’s +too much of a smarty-cat. She loves to get +people over there and then show off before +them. And then she puts on so many airs. +I won’t have anything to do with her.”</p> + +<p>From the open window came the shrill +scream of Miss Allison’s parrot. “What +do you think of that?” it called over and +over again.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t that a clever bird?” Rosie asked +admiringly. “His name is Tony. I have +lots of fun with him. Did you ever see a +parrot that could talk, before?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, we have several at Pride’s.”</p> + +<p>“Pride’s?”</p> + +<p>“Pride’s Crossing. That’s where we go +summers.”</p> + +<p>“And what do your parrots say?”</p> + +<p>“One talked in French. He used to say +‘Taisez-vous’ so much that sometimes we +would have to put a cover over the cage to +stop him.”</p> + +<p>“And did you have other animals besides +parrots?” Rosie asked. “I love animals.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, we had horses and dogs and cats +and rabbits and dancing mice and marmosets +and macaws and parokets and—I guess +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +I’ve forgotten some of them. But if you +like animals, you ought to go to our place +in the Adirondacks—there are deer preserves +there and pheasants and peacocks.”</p> + +<p>“Who do they belong to?”</p> + +<p>“My father.”</p> + +<p>Rosie considered this. “Does he keep a +bird-place?” she asked in a puzzled tone.</p> + +<p>“No.” Maida’s tone was a little puzzled +too. She did not know what a bird-place +was.</p> + +<p>“Well, did he sell them?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think he ever sold any. He gave +a great many away, though.”</p> + +<p>When Rosie went home, Maida walked as +far as her gate with her.</p> + +<p>“Want to know a secret, Maida?” Rosie +asked suddenly, her eyes dancing with mischief.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. I love secrets.”</p> + +<p>“Cross your throat then.”</p> + +<p>Maida did not know how to cross her +throat but Rosie taught her.</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” Rosie whispered, “my +mother doesn’t know that I went to your +house. She sent me to bed for being +naughty. And I got up and dressed and +climbed out my window on to the shed without +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +anybody knowing it. She’ll never know +the difference.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie,” Maida said in a horrified +tone, “Please never do it again.” In spite +of herself, Maida’s eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>But Rosie only laughed. Maida watched +her steal into her yard, watched her climb +over the shed, watched her disappear +through the window.</p> + +<p>But she grieved over the matter as she +walked home. Perhaps it was because she +was thinking so deeply that she did not notice +how quiet they all were in the living-room. +But as she crossed the threshold, a +pair of arms seized her and swung her into +the air.</p> + +<p>“Oh, papa, papa,” she whispered, cuddling +her face against his, “how glad I am +to see you.”</p> + +<p>He marched with her over to the light.</p> + +<p>“Well, little shop-keeper,” he said after +a long pause in which he studied her keenly, +“you’re beginning to look like a real live +girl.” He dropped her gently to her feet. +“Now show me your shop.”</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>PRIMROSE COURT</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>But during that first two weeks a continual +rush of business made long days +for Maida. All the children in the neighborhood +were curious to see the place. It +had been dark and dingy as long as they +could remember. Now it was always bright +and pretty—always sweet with the perfume +of flowers, always gay with the music of +birds. But more, the children wanted to +see the lame little girl who “tended store,” +who seemed to try so hard to please her customers +and who was so affectionate and respectful +with the old, old lady whom she +called “Granny.”</p> + +<p>At noon and night the bell sounded a continuous +tinkle.</p> + +<p>For a week Maida kept rather close to the +shop. She wanted to get acquainted with +all her customers. Moreover, she wanted to +find out which of the things she had bought +sold quickly and which were unpopular. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>After a day or two her life fell into a regular +programme.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning she would put the +shop to rights for the day’s sale, dusting, +replacing the things she had sold, rearranging +them often according to some pretty new +scheme. </p> + +<p>About eight o’clock the bell would call her +into the shop and it would be brisk work +until nine. Then would come a rest of +three hours, broken only by an occasional +customer. In this interval she often +worked in the yard, raking up the leaves +that fell from vine and bush, picking the +bravely-blooming dahlias, gathering sprays +of woodbine for the vases, scattering +crumbs to the birds.</p> + +<p>At twelve the children would begin to +flood the shop again and Maida would be on +her feet constantly until two. Between two +and four came another long rest. After +school trade started up again. Often it +lasted until six, when she locked the door for +the night.</p> + +<p>In her leisure moments she used to watch +the people coming and going in Primrose +Court. With Rosie’s and Dicky’s help, she +soon knew everybody by name. She discovered +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +by degrees that on the right side of +the court lived the Hales, the Clarks, the +Doyles and the Dores; on the left side, the +Duncans, the Brines and the Allisons. In +the big house at the back lived the Lathrops.</p> + +<p>Betsy was a great delight to Maida, for the +neighborhood brimmed with stories of her +mischief. She had buried her best doll in +the ash-barrel, thrown her mother’s pocketbook +down the cesspool, put all the clean +laundry into a tub of water and painted the +parlor fireplace with tomato catsup. In a +single afternoon, having become secretly +possessed of a pair of scissors, she cut all +the fringe off the parlor furniture, cut great +scallops in the parlor curtains, cut great +patches of fur off the cat’s back. When +her mother found her, she was busy cutting +her own hair.</p> + +<p>Often Granny would hear the door slam +on Maida’s hurried rush from the shop. +Hobbling to the window, she would see the +child leading Betsy by the hand. “Running +away again,” was all Maida would say. +Occasionally Maida would call in a vexed +tone, “Now <span style="font-style: italic">how</span> did she creep past the window +without my seeing her?” And outside +would be rosy-cheeked, brass-buttoned Mr. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +Flanagan, carrying Betsy home. Once +Billy arrived at the shop, bearing Betsy in +his arms. “She was almost to the bridge,” +he said, “when I caught sight of her from +the car window. The little tramp!”</p> + +<p>Betsy never seemed to mind being caught. +For an instant the little rosebud that was +her mouth would part over the tiny pearls +that were her teeth. This roguish smile +seemed to say: “You wait until the next +time. You won’t catch me then.”</p> + +<p>Sometimes Betsy would come into the +shop for an hour’s play. Maida loved to +have her there but it was like entertaining +a whirlwind. Betsy had a strong curiosity +to see what the drawers and boxes contained. +Everything had to be put back in +its place when she left.</p> + +<p>Next to the Hales lived the Clarks. By +the end of the first week Maida was the +chief adoration of the Clark twins. Dorothy +and Mabel were just as good as Betsy +was naughty. When they came over to see +Maida, they played quietly with whatever +she chose to give them. It was an hour, +ordinarily, before they could be made to talk +above a whisper. If they saw Maida coming +into the court, they would run to her +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +side, slipping a hot little hand into each of +hers. Attended always by this roly-poly +bodyguard, Maida would limp from group +to group of the playing children. Nobody +in Primrose Court could tell the Clark twins +apart. Maida soon learned the difference +although she could never explain it to anybody +else. “It’s something you have to +feel,” she said.</p> + +<p>Billy Potter enjoyed the twins as much as +Maida did. “Good morning, Dorothy-Mabel,” +he always said when he met one of +them; “is this you or your sister?” And he +always answered their whispered remarks +with whispers so much softer than theirs +that he finally succeeded in forcing them to +raise their shy little voices.</p> + +<p>The Doyles and the Dores lived in one +house next to the Clarks, Molly and Tim on +the first floor, Dicky and Delia above. +Maida became very fond of the Doyle children. +Like Betsy, they were too young to +go to school and she saw a good deal of them +in the lonely school hours. The puddle was +an endless source of amusement to them. +As long as it remained, they entertained +themselves playing along its shores.</p> + +<p>“There’s that choild in the water again,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +Granny would cry from the living-room.</p> + +<p>Looking out, Maida would see Tim spread +out on all fours. Like an obstinate little +pig, he would lie still until Molly picked him +up. She would take him home and in a few +moments he would reappear in fresh, clean +clothes again.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Tim,” Billy Potter would say +whenever they met. “Fallen into a pud-muddle +lately?”</p> + +<p>The word <span style="font-style: italic">pud-muddle</span> always sent Tim +off into peals of laughter. It was the only +thing Maida had discovered that could make +him laugh, for he was as serious as Molly +was merry. Molly certainly was the jolliest +little girl in the court—Maida had never +seen her with anything but a smiling face.</p> + +<p>Dicky’s mother went to work so early +and came back so late that Maida had never +seen her. But Dicky soon became an intimate. +Maida had begun the reading lessons +and Dicky was so eager to get on that they +were progressing famously.</p> + +<p>The Lathrops lived in the big house at the +back of the court. Granny learned from +the Misses Allison that, formerly, the whole +neighborhood had belonged to the Lathrop +family. But they had sold all their land, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +piece by piece, except the one big lot on +which the house stood. Perhaps it was because +they had once been so important that +Mrs. Lathrop seemed to feel herself a little +better than the rest of the people in Primrose +Court. At any rate, although she +spoke with all, the Misses Allison were the +only ones on whom she condescended to call. +Maida caught a glimpse of her occasionally +on the piazza—a tall, thin woman, white-haired +and sharp-featured, who always wore +a worsted shawl.</p> + +<p>The house was a big, bulky building, a +mass of piazzas and bay-windows, with a +hexagonal cupola on the top. It was +painted white with green blinds and +trimmed with a great deal of wooden lace. +The wide lawn was well-kept and plots of +flowers, here and there, gave it a gay air.</p> + +<p>Laura had a brother named Harold, who +was short and fat. Harold seemed to do +nothing all day long but ride a wheel at a +tearing pace over the asphalt paths, and +regularly, for two hours every morning, to +draw a shrieking bow across a tortured violin.</p> + +<p>The more Maida watched Laura the less +she liked her. She could see that what Rosie +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +said was perfectly true—Laura put on airs. +Every afternoon Laura played on the lawn. +Her appearance was the signal for all the +small fry of the neighborhood to gather +about the gate. First would come the +Doyles, then Betsy, then, one by one, +the strange children who wandered into the +court, until there would be a row of wistful +little faces stuck between the bars of the +fence. They would follow every move that +Laura made as she played with the toys +spread in profusion upon the grass.</p> + +<p>Laura often pretended not to see them. +She would lift her large family of dolls, +one after another, from cradle to bed and +from bed to tiny chair and sofa. She would +parade up and down the walk, using first +one doll-carriage, then the other. She +would even play a game of croquet against +herself. Occasionally she would call in a +condescending tone, “You may come in for +awhile if you wish, little children.” And +when the delighted little throng had scampered +to her side, she would show them all +her toy treasures on condition that they did +not touch them.</p> + +<p>When the proceedings reached this stage, +Maida would be so angry that she could +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +look no longer. Very often, after Laura +had sent the children away, Maida would +call them into the shop. She would let +them play all the rest of the afternoon with +anything her stock afforded.</p> + +<p>On the right side of the court lived Arthur +Duncan, the Misses Allison and Rosie +Brine. The more Maida saw of Arthur, +the more she disliked him. In fact, she +hated to have him come into the shop. It +seemed to her that he went out of his way +to be impolite to her, that he looked at her +with a decided expression of contempt in +his big dark eyes. But Rosie and Dicky +seemed very fond of him. Billy Potter had +once told her that one good way of judging +people was by the friends they made. +If that were true, she had to acknowledge +that there must be something fine about +Arthur that she had not discovered.</p> + +<p>Maida guessed that the W.M.N.T.’s met +three or four times a week. Certainly +there were very busy doings at Dicky’s or +at Arthur’s house every other day. What +it was all about, Maida did not know. But +she fancied that it had much to do with +Dicky’s frequent purchases of colored tissue +paper. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Misses Allison had become great +friends with Granny. Matilda, the blind +sister, was very slender and sweet-faced. +She sat all day in the window, crocheting +the beautiful, fleecy shawls by which she +helped support the household.</p> + +<p>Jemima, the older, short, fat and with +snapping black eyes, did the housework, attended +to the parrot and waited by inches +on her afflicted sister. Occasionally in the +evening they would come to call on Granny. +Billy Potter was very nice to them both. +He was always telling the sisters the long +amusing stories of his adventures. Miss +Matilda’s gentle face used positively to +beam at these times, and Miss Jemima +laughed so hard that, according to her own +story, his talk put her “in stitches.”</p> + +<p>Maida did not see Rosie’s mother often. +To tell the truth, she was a little afraid of +her. She was a tall, handsome, black-browed +woman—a grown-up Rosie—with +an appearance of great strength and of +even greater temper. “Ah, that choild’s +the limb,” Granny would say, when Maida +brought her some new tale of Rosie’s disobedience. +And yet, in the curious way in +which Maida divined things that were not +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +told her, she knew that, next to Dicky, +Rosie was Granny’s favorite of all the children +in the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>With all these little people to act upon +its stage, it is not surprising that Primrose +Court seemed to Maida to be a little +theater of fun—a stage to which her window +was the royal box. Something was going +on there from morning to night. Here +would be a little group of little girls playing +“house” with numerous families of +dolls. There, it would be boys, gathered in +an excited ring, playing marbles or top. +Just before school, games like leap-frog, or +tag or prisoners’ base would prevail. But, +later, when there was more time, hoist-the-sail +would fill the air with its strange cries, +or hide-and-seek would make the place boil +with excitement. Maida used to watch +these games wistfully, for Granny had decided +that they were all too rough for her. +She would not even let Maida play “London-Bridge-is-falling-down” +or “drop the +handkerchief”—anything, in fact, in which +she would have to run or pull.</p> + +<p>But Granny had no objections to the +gentler fun of “Miss Jennie-I-Jones,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +“ring-a-ring-a-rounder,” “water, water +wildflower,” “the farmer in the dell,” +“go in and out the windows.” Maida +used to try to pick out the airs of these +games on the spinet—she never could decide +which was the sweetest.</p> + +<p>Maida soon learned how to play jackstones +and, at the end of the second week, +she was almost as proficient as Rosie with +the top. The thing she most wanted to +learn, however, was jump-rope. Every little +girl in Primrose Court could jump-rope—even +the twins, who were especially nimble +at “pepper.” Maida tried it one night—all +alone in the shop. But suddenly her +weak leg gave way under her and she fell +to the floor. Granny, rushing in from the +other room, scolded her violently. She +ended by forbidding her to jump again +without special permission. But Maida +made up her mind that she was going to +learn sometime, even, as she said with a +roguish smile, “if it took a leg.” She +talked it over with Rosie.</p> + +<p>“You let her jump just one jump every +morning and night, Granny,” Rosie advised, +“and I’m sure it will be all right. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +That won’t hurt her any and, after awhile, +she’ll find she can jump two, then three and +so on. That’s the way I learned.”</p> + +<p>Granny agreed to this. Maida practiced +constantly, one jump in her nightgown, just +before going to bed, and another, all +dressed, just after she got up.</p> + +<p>“I jumped three jumps this morning +without failing, Granny,” she said one +morning at breakfast. Within a few days +the record climbed to five, then to seven, +then, at a leap, to ten.</p> + +<p>Dr. Pierce called early one morning. +His eyes opened wide when they fell upon +her. “Well, well, Pinkwink,” he said. +“What do you mean by bringing me way +over here! I thought you were supposed +to be a sick young person. Where’d you +get that color?”</p> + +<p>A flush like that of a pink sweet-pea blossom +had begun to show in Maida’s cheek. +It was faint but it was permanent.</p> + +<p>“Why, you’re the worst fraud on my list. +If you keep on like this, young woman, I +shan’t have any excuse for calling. You’ve +done fine, Granny.”</p> + +<p>Granny looked, as Dr. Pierce afterwards +said, “as tickled as Punch.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>“How do you like shop-keeping?” Dr. +Pierce went on.</p> + +<p>“Like it!” Maida plunged into praise +so swift and enthusiastic that Dr. Pierce +told her to go more slowly or he would put +a bit in her mouth. But he listened attentively. +“Well, I see you’re not tired of +it,” he commented.</p> + +<p>“Tired!” Maida’s indignation was so +intense that Dr. Pierce shook until every +curl bobbed.</p> + +<p>“And I get so hungry,” she went on. +“You see I have to wait until two o’clock +sometimes before I can get my lunch, because +from twelve to two are my busy hours. +Those days it seems as if the school bell +would never ring.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, tis a foine little pig OI’m growing +now,” Granny said.</p> + +<p>“And as for sleeping—” Maida stopped +as if there were no words anywhere to describe +her condition.</p> + +<p>Granny finished it for her. “The choild +sleeps like a top.”</p> + +<p>Billy Potter came at least every day and +sometimes oftener. Every child in Primrose +Court knew him by the end of the first +week and every child loved him by the end +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +of the second. And they all called him +Billy. He would not let them call him Mr. +Potter or even Uncle Billy because, he said, +he was a child when he was with them and +he wanted to be treated like a child. He +played all their games with a skill that they +thought no mere grown-up could possess. +Like Rosie, he seemed to be bubbling over +with life and spirits. He was always running, +leaping, jumping, climbing, turning +cartwheels and somersaults, vaulting fences +and “chinning” himself unexpectedly whenever +he came to a doorway.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Masther Billy, ’tis the choild that +you are!” Granny would say, twinkling.</p> + +<p>“Yes, ma’am,” Billy would answer.</p> + +<p>At the end of the first fortnight, the +neighborhood had accepted Granny and +Maida as the mother-in-law and daughter +of a “traveling man.” From the beginning +Granny had seemed one of them, but +Maida was a puzzle. The children could +not understand how a little girl could be +grown-up and babyish at the same time. +And if you stop to think it over, perhaps +you can understand how they felt.</p> + +<p>Here was a child who had never played, +“London-Bridge-is-falling-down” or jackstones +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +or jump-rope or hop-scotch. Yet +she talked familiarly of automobiles, yachts +and horses. She knew nothing about geography +and yet, her conversation was full +of such phrases as “The spring we were in +Paris” or “The winter we spent in Rome.” +She knew nothing about nouns and verbs +but she talked Italian fluently with the +hand-organ man who came every week and +many of her books were in French. She +knew nothing about fractions or decimals, +yet she referred familiarly to “drawing +checks,” to gold eagles and to Wall Street. +Her writing was so bad that the children +made fun of it, yet she could spin off a letter +of eight pages in a flash. And she told +the most wonderful fairy-tales that had ever +been heard in Primrose Court.</p> + +<p>Because of all these things the children +had a kind of contempt for her mingled +with a curious awe.</p> + +<p>She was so polite with grown people that +it was fairly embarrassing. She always +arose from her chair when they entered the +room, always picked up the things they +dropped and never interrupted. And yet +she could carry on a long conversation with +them. She never said, “Yes, ma’am,” or +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +“No, ma’am.” Instead, she said, “Yes, +Mrs. Brine,” or “No, Miss Allison,” and +she looked whomever she was talking with +straight in the eye.</p> + +<p>She would play with the little children +as willingly as with the bigger ones. Often +when the older girls and boys were in +school, she would bring out a lapful of toys +and spend the whole morning with the little +ones. When Granny called her, she +would give all the toys away, dividing +them with a careful justice. And, yet, +whenever children bought things of her in +the shop, she always expected them to pay +the whole price. You can see how the +neighborhood would fairly buzz with talk +about her.</p> + +<p>As for Maida—with all this newness +of friend-making and out-of-doors games, +it is not to be wondered that her head was +a jumble at the end of each day. In that +delicious, dozy interval before she fell +asleep at night, all kinds of pretty pictures +seemed to paint themselves on her eyelids.</p> + +<p>Now it was Rose-Red swaying like a +great overgrown scarlet flower from the +bars of a lamp-post. Now it was Dicky +hoisting himself along on his crutches, his +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +face alight with his radiant smile. Now +it was a line of laughing, rosy-cheeked children, +as long as the tail of a kite, pelting +to goal at the magic cry “Liberty poles are +bending!” Or it was a group of little girls, +setting out rows and rows of bright-colored +paper-dolls among the shadows of one of the +deep old doorways. But always in a few +moments came the sweetest kind of sleep. +And always through her dreams flowed the +plaintive music of “Go in and out the windows.” +Often she seemed to wake in the +morning to the Clarion cry, “Hoist the +sail!”</p> + +<p>It did not seem to Maida that the days +were long enough to do all the things she +wanted to do.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>TWO CALLS</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>One morning, Laura Lathrop came +bustling importantly into the shop. +“Good morning, Maida,” she said; “you +may come over to my house this afternoon +and play with me if you’d like.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Laura,” Maida answered. +To anybody else, she would have added, “I +shall be delighted to come.” But to Laura, +she only said, “It is kind of you to ask +me.”</p> + +<p>“From about two until four,” Laura +went on in her most superior tone. “I suppose +you can’t get off for much longer than +that.”</p> + +<p>“Granny is always willing to wait on +customers if I want to play,” Maida explained, +“but I think she would not want +me to stay longer than that, anyway.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, then. Shall we say at two?” +Laura said this with a very grown-up air. +Maida knew that she was imitating her +mother. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>Laura had scarcely left when Dicky appeared, +swinging between his crutches. +“Maida,” he said, “I want you to come over +to-morrow afternoon and see my place. +You’ve not seen Delia yet and there’s a +whole lot of things I want to show you. +I’m going to clean house to-day so’s I’ll +be all ready for you to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, thank you,” Maida said. The +sparkle that always meant delight came into +her face. “I shall be delighted. I’ve always +wanted to go over and see you ever +since I first knew you. But Granny said +to wait until you invited me. And I really +have never seen Delia except when Rosie’s +had her in the carriage. And then she’s always +been asleep.”</p> + +<p>“You have to see Delia in the house to +know what a naughty baby she is,” Dicky +said. He spoke as if that were the +finest tribute that he could pay his little +sister.</p> + +<p>“Granny,” Maida said that noon at +lunch, “Laura Lathrop came here and invited +me to come to see her this afternoon +and I just hate the thought of going—I +don’t know why. Then Dicky came and invited +me to come and see him to-morrow +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +afternoon and I just love the thought of +going. Isn’t it strange?”</p> + +<p>“Very,” Granny said, smiling. “But +you be sure to be a noice choild this afternoon, +no matter what that wan says to you.”</p> + +<p>Granny always referred to Laura as +“that wan.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I’ll be good, Granny. Isn’t it +funny,” Maida went on. The tone of her +voice showed that she was thinking hard. +“Laura makes me mad—oh, just hopping +mad,”—“hopping mad” was one of Rosie’s +expressions—“and yet it seems to me I’d +die before I’d let her know it.”</p> + +<p>Laura was waiting for her on the piazza +when Maida presented herself at the Lathrop +door. “Won’t you come in and take +your things off, first?” she said. “I thought +we’d play in the house for awhile.”</p> + +<p>She took Maida immediately upstairs to +her bedroom—a large room all furnished in +blue—blue paper, blue bureau scarf covered +with lace, blue bed-spread covered with +lace, a big, round, blue roller where the pillows +should be.</p> + +<p>“How do you like my room, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“It’s very pretty.”</p> + +<p>“This is my toilet-set.” Laura pointed +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +to the glittering articles on the bureau. +“Papa’s given them to me, one piece at a +time. It’s all of silver and every thing has +my initials on it. What is your set of?”</p> + +<p>Laura paused before she asked this last +question and darted one of her sideways +looks at Maida. “She thinks I haven’t any +toilet-set and she wants to make me say so,” +Maida thought. “Ivory,” she said aloud.</p> + +<p>“Ivory! I shouldn’t think that would be +very pretty.”</p> + +<p>Laura opened her bureau drawers, one at +a time, and showed Maida the pretty +clothes packed in neat piles there. She +opened the large closet and displayed elaborately-made +frocks, suspended on hangers. +And all the time, with little sharp, sideways +glances, she was studying the effect on +Maida. But Maida’s face betrayed none of +the wonder and envy that Laura evidently +expected. Maida was very polite but it was +evident that she was not much interested.</p> + +<p>Next they went upstairs to a big playroom +which covered the whole top of the +house. Shelves covered with books and +toys lined the walls. A fire, burning in the +big fireplace, made it very cheerful.</p> + +<p>“Oh, what a darling doll-house,” Maida +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +exclaimed, pausing before the miniature +mansion, very elegantly furnished.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do you like it?” Laura beamed with +pride.</p> + +<p>“I just love it! Particularly because it’s +so little.”</p> + +<p>“Little!” Laura bristled. “I don’t +think it’s so very little. It’s the biggest +doll-house I ever saw. Did you ever see a +bigger one?”</p> + +<p>Maida looked embarrassed. “Only one.”</p> + +<p>“Whose was it?”</p> + +<p>“It was the one my father had built for +me at Pride’s. It was too big to be a doll’s +house. It was really a small cottage. +There were four rooms—two upstairs and +two downstairs and a staircase that you +could really walk up. But I don’t like it +half so well as this one,” Maida went on +truthfully. “I think it’s very queer but, +somehow, the smaller things are the better +I like them. I guess it’s because I’ve +seen so many big things.”</p> + +<p>Laura looked impressed and puzzled at +the same time. “And you really could +walk up the stairs? Let’s go up in the cupola,” +she suggested, after an uncertain interval +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +in which she seemed to think of +nothing else to show.</p> + +<p>The stairs at the end of the playroom led +into the cupola. Maida exclaimed with delight +over the view which she saw from the +windows. On one side was the river with +the draw-bridge, the Navy Yard and the +monument on Bunker Hill. On the other +stretched the smoky expanse of Boston with +the golden dome of the state house gleaming +in the midst of a huge, red-brick huddle.</p> + +<p>“Did you have a cupola at Pride’s Crossing?” +Laura asked triumphantly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no—how I wish I had!”</p> + +<p>Laura beamed again.</p> + +<p>“Laura likes to have things other people +haven’t,” Maida thought.</p> + +<p>Her hostess now conducted her back over +the two flights of stairs to the lower floor. +They went into the dining-room, which was +all shining oak and glittering cut-glass; +into the parlor, which was filled with gold +furniture, puffily upholstered in blue brocade; +into the libraries, which Maida liked +best of all, because there were so many +books and—</p> + +<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” she exclaimed, stopping before +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +one of the pictures; “that’s Santa +Maria in Cosmedin. I haven’t seen that +since I left Rome.”</p> + +<p>“How long did you stay in Rome, little +girl?” a voice asked back of her. Maida +turned. Mrs. Lathrop had come into the +room.</p> + +<p>Maida arose immediately from her chair. +“We stayed in Rome two months,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Indeed. And where else did you go?”</p> + +<p>“London, Paris, Florence and Venice.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know these other pictures?” +Mrs. Lathrop asked. “I’ve been collecting +photographs of Italian churches.”</p> + +<p>Maida went about identifying the places +with little cries of joy. “Ara Coeli—I saw +in there the little wooden bambino who +cures sick people. It’s so covered with +bracelets and rings and lockets and pins +and chains that grateful people have given +it that it looks as if it were dressed in +jewels. The bambino’s such a darling little +thing with such a sweet look in its face. +That’s St. Agnes outside the wall—I saw +two dear little baby lambs blessed on the +altar there on St. Agnes’s day. One was +all covered with red garlands and the other +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +with green. Oh, they were such sweethearts! +They were going to use the fleece +to make some garment for the pope. +That’s Santa Maria della Salute—they call +it Santa Maria della <span style="font-style: italic">Volute</span> instead of <span style="font-style: italic">Salute</span> +because it’s all covered with volutes.” +Maida smiled sunnily into Mrs. Lathrop’s +face as if expecting sympathy with this +architectural joke.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Lathrop did not smile. She +looked a little staggered. She studied +Maida for a long time out of her shrewd, +light eyes.</p> + +<p>“Whose family did you travel with?” +she asked at last.</p> + +<p>Maida felt a little embarrassed. If Mrs. +Lathrop asked her certain questions, it +would place her in a very uncomfortable +position. On the one hand, Maida could +not tell a lie. On the other, her father had +told her to tell nobody that she was his +daughter.</p> + +<p>“The family of Mr. Jerome Westabrook,” +she said at last.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” It was the “oh” of a person who +is much impressed. “‘Buffalo’ Westabrook?” +Mrs. Lathrop asked. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Did your grandmother, Mrs. Flynn, go +with you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lathrop continued to look very hard +at Maida. Her eyes wandered over the little +blue frock—simple but of the best materials—over +the white “tire” of a delicate +plaided nainsook, trimmed with Valenciennes +lace, the string of blue Venetian +beads, the soft, carefully-fitted shoes.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Westabrook has a little girl, hasn’t +he?” Mrs. Lathrop said.</p> + +<p>Maida felt extremely uncomfortable now. +But she looked Mrs. Lathrop straight in +the eye. “Yes,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“About your age?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“She is an invalid, isn’t she?”</p> + +<p>“She <span style="font-style: italic">was</span>,” Maida said with emphasis.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lathrop did not ask any more questions. +She went presently into the back library. +An old gentleman sat there, reading.</p> + +<p>“That little girl who keeps the store at +the corner is in there, playing with Laura, +father,” she said. “I guess her grandmother +was a servant in <span style="font-style: normal">‘Buffalo’</span> Westabrook’s +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +family, for they traveled abroad a +year with the Westabrook family. Evidently, +they give her all the little Westabrook +girl’s clothes—she’s dressed quite out +of keeping with her station in life. Curious +how refinement rubs off—the child has +really a good deal of manner. I don’t know +that I quite like to have Laura playing with +her, though.”</p> + +<p>The two little girls returned after awhile +to the playroom.</p> + +<p>“How would you like to have me dance +for you?” Laura asked abruptly. “You +know I take fancy dancing.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Laura,” Maida said delightedly +“will you?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I will,” Laura said with her +most beaming expression. “You wait here +while I go downstairs and get into my costume. +Watch that door, for I shall make +my entrance there.”</p> + +<p>Maida waited what seemed a long time +to her. Then suddenly Laura came whirling +into the room. She had put on a little +frock of pale-blue liberty silk that lay, +skirt, bodice and tiny sleeves, in many little +pleats—“accordion-pleated,” Laura afterwards +described it. Laura’s neck and arms +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +were bare. She wore blue silk stockings +and little blue-kid slippers, heelless and tied +across the ankles with ribbons. Her hair +hung in a crimpy torrent to below her waist.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Laura, how lovely you do look!” +Maida said, “I think you’re perfectly beautiful!”</p> + +<p>Laura smiled. Lifting both arms above +her head, she floated about the room, dancing +on the very tips of her toes. Turning +and smiling over her shoulder, she bent and +swayed and attitudinized. Maida could +have watched her forever.</p> + +<p>In a few moments she disappeared again. +This time she came back in a red-silk frock +with a little bolero jacket of black velvet, +hung with many tinkling coins. Whenever +her fingers moved, a little pretty clapping +sound came from them—Maida discovered +that she carried tiny wooden clappers. +Whenever her heels came together, a pretty +musical clink came from them—Maida discovered +that on her shoes were tiny metal +plates.</p> + +<p>Once again Laura went out. This time, +she returned dressed like a little sailor boy. +She danced a gay little hornpipe.</p> + +<p>“I never saw anything so marvelous in +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +my life,” Maida said, her eyes shining with +enjoyment. “Oh, Laura how I wish I could +dance like that. How did you ever learn? +Do you practice all the time?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s not so very hard—for me,” +Laura returned. “Of course, everybody +couldn’t learn. And I suppose you, being +lame, could never do anything at all.”</p> + +<p>This was the first allusion that had been +made in Primrose Court to Maida’s lameness. +Her face shadowed a little. “No, +I’m afraid I couldn’t,” she said regretfully. +“But—oh—think what a lovely dancer +Rosie would make.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid Rosie’s too rough,” Laura +said. She unfolded a little fan and began +fanning herself languidly. “It’s a great +bother sometimes,” she went on in a bored +tone of voice. “Everybody is always asking +me to dance at their parties. I danced +at a beautiful May party last year. Did +you ever see a May-pole?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” Maida said. “My birthday +comes on May Day and last year father +gave me a party. He had a May-pole set +up on the lawn and all the children danced +about it.”</p> + +<p>“My birthday comes in the summer, too. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +I always have a party on our place in +Marblehead,” Laura said. “I had fifty +children at my party last year. How many +did you have?”</p> + +<p>“We sent out over five hundred invitations, +I believe. But not quite four hundred +accepted.”</p> + +<p>“Four hundred,” Laura repeated. +“Goodness, what could so many children +do?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, there were all sorts of things for +them to do,” Maida answered. “There +was archery and diabolo and croquet and +fishing-ponds and a merry-go-round and +Punch and Judy on the lawn and a play in +my little theater—I can’t remember everything.”</p> + +<p>Laura’s eyes had grown very big. +“Didn’t you have a perfectly splendiferous +time?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“No, not particularly,” Maida said. +“Not half such a good time as I’ve had +playing in Primrose Court. I wasn’t very +well and then, somehow, I didn’t care for +those children the way I care for Dicky and +Rosie and the court children.”</p> + +<p>“Goodness!” was all Laura could say for +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +a moment. But finally she added, “I don’t +believe that, Maida!”</p> + +<p>Maida stared at her and started to speak. +“Oh, there’s the clock striking four?” was +all she said though. “I must go. Thank +you for dancing for me.”</p> + +<p>She flew into her coat and hat. She +could not seem to get away quick enough. +Nobody had ever doubted her word before. +She could not exactly explain it to herself +but she felt if she talked with Laura another +moment, she would fly out of her skin.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>“Mother,” Laura said, after Maida had +gone, “Maida Flynn told me that her father +gave her a birthday party last year and invited +five hundred children to it and they +had a theater and a Punch and Judy show +and all sorts of things. Do you think it’s +true?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lathrop set her lips firmly. “No, +I think it is probably not true. I think +you’d better not play with the little Flynn +girl any more.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The next afternoon, Maida went, as she +had promised, to see Dicky. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>She could see at a glance that Mrs. Dore +was having a hard struggle to support her +little family. In the size and comfort of +its furnishings, the place was the exact opposite +of the Lathrop home. But, somehow, +there was a wonderful feeling of home +there.</p> + +<p>“Dicky, how do you manage to keep so +clean here?” Maida asked in genuine wonder.</p> + +<p>And indeed, hard work showed everywhere. +The oilcloth shone like glass. The +stove was as clean as a newly-polished shoe. +The rows of pans on the wall fairly twinkled. +Delicious smells were filling the air. +Maida guessed that Dicky was making one +of the Irish stews that were his specialty.</p> + +<p>“See that little truck over there?” Dicky +said. “That helps a lot. Arthur Duncan +made that for me. You see we have to +keep our coal in that closet, way across the +room. I used to get awful tired filling the +coal-hod and lugging it over to the stove. +But now you see I fill that truck at the +closet, wheel it over to the stove and I don’t +have to think of coal for three days.”</p> + +<p>“Arthur must be a very clever boy,” +Maida said thoughtfully. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You bet he is. See that tin can in the +sink? Well, I wanted a soap-shaker but +couldn’t afford to get one. Arthur took +that can and punched the bottom full of +holes. I keep it filled up with all the odds +and ends of soap. When I wash the dishes, +I just let the boiling water from the kettle +flow through it. It makes water grand +and soapy. Arthur made me that iron +dish-rag and that dish-mop.”</p> + +<p>A sleepy cry came from the corner. +Dicky swung across the room. Balancing +himself against the cradle there, he lifted +the baby to the floor. “She can’t walk yet +but you watch her go,” he said proudly.</p> + +<p>Go! The baby crept across the room so +fast that Maida had to run to keep up with +her. “Oh, the love!” she said, taking Delia +into her arms. “Think of having a whole +baby to yourself.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t leave a thing round where she is,” +Dicky said proudly, as if this were the best +thing he could say about her. “Have to +put <span style="font-style: italic">my</span> work away the moment she wakes +up. Isn’t she a buster, though?”</p> + +<p>“I should say she was!” And indeed, +the baby was as fat as a little partridge. +Maida wondered how Dicky could lift her. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +Also Delia was as healthy-looking as Dicky +was sickly. Her cheeks showed a pink that +was almost purple and her head looked like +a mop, so thickly was it overgrown with +tangled, red-gold curls.</p> + +<p>“Is she named after your mother?” +Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“No—after my grandmother in Ireland. +But of course we don’t call her anything +but ‘baby’ yet. My, but she’s a case! If +I didn’t watch her all the time, every pan +in this room would be on the floor in a +jiffy. And she tears everything she puts +her hands on.”</p> + +<p>“Granny must see her sometime—Granny’s +name is Delia.”</p> + +<p>“Hi, stop that!” Dicky called. For +Delia had discovered the little bundle that +Maida had placed on a chair, and was busy +trying to tear it open.</p> + +<p>“Let her open it,” Maida said, “I brought +it for her.”</p> + +<p>They watched.</p> + +<p>It took a long time, but Delia sat down, +giving her whole attention to it. Finally +her busy fingers pulled off so much paper +that a pair of tiny rubber dolls dropped into +her lap. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Say ‘Thank you, Maida,’” Dicky +prompted.</p> + +<p>Delia said something and Dicky assured +her that the baby had obeyed him. It +sounded like, “Sank-oo-Maysa.”</p> + +<p>While Delia occupied herself with the +dolls, Maida listened to Dicky’s reading +lesson. He was getting on beautifully now. +At least he could puzzle out by himself +some of the stories that Maida lent him. +When they had finished that day’s fairy-tale, +Dicky said:</p> + +<p>“Did you ever see a peacock, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes—a great many.”</p> + +<p>“Where?”</p> + +<p>“I saw ever so many in the Jardin des +Plantes in Paris and then my father has +some in his camp in the Adirondacks.”</p> + +<p>“Has he many?”</p> + +<p>“A dozen.”</p> + +<p>“I’m just wild to see one. Are they as +beautiful as that picture in the fairy-tale?”</p> + +<p>“They’re as beautiful as—as—” Maida +groped about in her mind to find something +to compare them to “—as angels,” she said +at last.</p> + +<p>“And do they really open their tails like +a fan?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That is the most wonderful sight, Dicky, +that you ever saw.” Maida’s manner was +almost solemn. “When they unfurl the +whole fan and the sun shines on all the +green and blue eyes and on all the little gold +feathers, it’s so beautiful. Well, it makes +you ache. I <span style="font-style: italic">cried</span> the first time I saw one. +And when their fans are down, they carry +them so daintily, straight out, not a single +feather trailing on the ground. There are +two white peacocks on the Adirondacks +place.”</p> + +<p>“<span style="font-style: italic">White</span> peacocks! I never heard of +white ones.”</p> + +<p>“They’re not common.”</p> + +<p>“Think of seeing a dozen peacocks every +day!” Dicky exclaimed. “Jiminy crickets! +Why, Maida, your life must have been just +like a fairy-tale when you lived there.”</p> + +<p>“It seems more like a fairy-tale here.”</p> + +<p>They laughed at this difference of opinion.</p> + +<p>“Dicky,” Maida asked suddenly, “do you +know that Rosie steals out of her window +at night sometimes when her mother doesn’t +know it?”</p> + +<p>“Sure—I know that. You see,” he went +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +on to explain, “it’s like this. Rosie is an +awful bad girl in some ways—there’s no +doubt about that. But my mother says +Rosie isn’t as bad as she seems. My mother +says Rosie’s mother has never learned how +to manage her. She whips Rosie an awful +lot. And the more she whips Rosie, the +naughtier she gets. Rosie says she’s going +to run away some day, and by George, I +bet she’ll do it. She always does what she +says she’ll do.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it dreadful?” Maida said in a +frightened tone. “Run away! I never +heard of such a thing. Think of having a +mother and then not getting along with her. +Suppose she died sometime, as my mother +did.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what I’d do without my +mother,” Dicky said thoughtfully. “But +then I’ve got the best mother that ever was. +I wish she didn’t have to work so hard. +But you wait until I get on my feet. Then +you’ll see how I’m going to earn money for +her.”</p> + +<p>When Maida got home that night, Billy +Potter sat with Granny in the living-room. +Maida came in so quietly that they took no +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +notice of her. Granny was talking. Maida +could see that the tears were coursing down +the wrinkles in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>“And after that, the poor choild ran away +to America and I niver have seen her since. +Her father died repenting av his anger +aginst her. But ut was too late. At last, +in me old age, Oi came over to America, +hoping Oi cud foind her. But, glory be, Oi +had no idea ’twas such a big place! And +Oi’ve hunted and Oi’ve hunted and Oi’ve +hunted. But niver a track of her cud Oi +foind—me little Annie!”</p> + +<p>Billy’s face was all screwed up, but it was +not with laughter. “Did you ever speak to +Mr. Westabrook about it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Misther Westabruk done iv’ry t’ing +he cud—the foine man that he is. +Adver<span style="font-style: italic">tise</span>ments +and <span style="font-style: italic">de</span>tayktives, +but wid all his +money, he cudn’t foind out a t’ing. If ut +wasn’t for my blissed lamb, I’d pray to the +saints to let me die.”</p> + +<p>Maida knew what they were talking about—Granny +had often told her the sad story +of her lost daughter.</p> + +<p>“What town in Ireland did you live in, +Granny?” Billy asked.</p> + +<p>“Aldigarey, County Sligo.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +“Now don’t you get discouraged, Granny,” +Billy said, “I’m going to find your +daughter for you.”</p> + +<p>He jumped to his feet and walked about +the room. “I’m something of a detective +myself, and you’ll see I’ll make good on this +job if it takes twenty years.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy, do—please do,” Maida burst +in. “It will make Granny so happy.”</p> + +<p>Granny seemed happier already. She +dried her tears.</p> + +<p>“’Tis the good b’y ye are, Misther Billy,” +she said gratefully.</p> + +<p>“Yes, m’m,” said Billy.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>TROUBLE</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>The next week was a week of trouble +for Maida. Everything seemed to go +wrong from the first tinkle of the bell, Monday +morning, to the last tinkle Saturday +night.</p> + +<p>It began with a conversation.</p> + +<p>Rosie came marching in early Monday, +head up, eyes flaming.</p> + +<p>“Maida,” she began at once, in her quickest, +briskest tone, “I’ve got something to +tell you. Laura Lathrop came over to +Dicky’s house the other day while the W.M.N.T.’s +were meeting and she told us the +greatest mess of stuff about you. I told her +I was coming right over and tell you about +it and she said, ‘All right, you can.’ Laura +said that you said that last summer you had +a birthday party that you invited five hundred +children to. She said that you said +that you had a May-pole at this party and +a fish pond and a Punch and Judy show +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +and all sorts of things. She said that you +said that you had a big doll-house and a little +theater all your own. I said that I +didn’t believe that you told her all that. Did +you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I told her that—and more,” +Maida answered directly.</p> + +<p>“Laura said it was all a pack of lies, but +I don’t believe that. Is it all true?”</p> + +<p>“It’s all true,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>Rosie looked at her hard. “You know, +Maida,” she went on after awhile, “you +told me about a lot of birds and animals +that your father had. I thought he kept +a bird-place. But Dicky says you told him +that your father had twelve peacocks, not +in a store, but in a place where he lives.” +She paused and looked inquiringly at +Maida.</p> + +<p>Maida answered the look. “Yes, I told +him that.”</p> + +<p>“And it’s all true?” Rosie asked again.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s all true,” Maida repeated.</p> + +<p>Rosie hesitated a moment. “Harold +Lathrop says that you’re daffy.”</p> + +<p>Maida said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Arthur Duncan says,” Rosie went on +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +more timidly, “that you probably dreamed +those things.”</p> + +<p>Still Maida said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Do you think you did dream them, +Maida?”</p> + +<p>Maida smiled. “No, I didn’t dream +them.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I thought of another thing,” +Rosie went on eagerly. “Miss Allison told +mother that Granny told her that you’d +been sick for a long time. And I thought, +maybe you were out of your head and imagined +those things. Oh, Maida,” Rosie’s +voice actually coaxed her to favor this +theory, “don’t you think you imagined +them?”</p> + +<p>Maida laughed. “No, Rosie,” she said +in her quietest voice, “I did not imagine +them.”</p> + +<p>For a moment neither of the two little +girls spoke. But they stared, a little defiantly, +into each other’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“What did Dicky say?” Maida asked +after awhile.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dicky said he would believe anything +you told him, no matter what it was. +Dicky says he believes you’re a princess in +disguise—like in fairy-tales.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Dear, dear Dicky!” Maida said. “He +was the first friend I made in Primrose +Court and I guess he’s the best one.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess I’m your friend,” Rosie +said, firing up; “I told that little smarty-cat +of a Laura if she ever said one word +against you, I’d slap her good and hard. +Only—only—it seems strange that a little +girl who’s just like the rest of us should +have story-book things happening to her all +the time. If it’s true—then fairy-tales are +true.” She paused and looked Maida +straight in the eye. “I can’t believe it, +Maida. But I know you believe it. And +that’s all there is to it. But you’d better +believe I’m your friend.”</p> + +<p>Saying which she marched out.</p> + +<p>Maida’s second trouble began that night.</p> + +<p>It had grown dark. Suddenly, without +any warning, the door of the shop flew open. +For an instant three or four voices filled the +place with their yells. Then the door shut. +Nothing was heard but the sound of running +feet.</p> + +<p>Granny and Maida rushed to the door. +Nobody was in sight.</p> + +<p>“Who was it? What does it mean, Granny?” +Maida asked in bewilderment. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +“Only naughty b’ys, taysing you,” +Granny explained.</p> + +<p>Maida had hardly seated herself when the +performance was repeated. Again she +rushed to the door. Again she saw nobody. +The third time she did not stir from her +chair.</p> + +<p>Tuesday night the same thing happened. +Who the boys were Maida could not find +out. Why they bothered her, she could not +guess.</p> + +<p>“Take no notuce av ut, my lamb,” Granny +counselled. “When they foind you pay no +attintion to ut, they’ll be afther stopping.”</p> + +<p>Maida followed Granny’s advice. But +the annoyance did not cease and she began +to dread the twilight. She made up her +mind that she must put an end to it soon. +She knew she could stop it at once by appealing +to Billy Potter. And, yet, somehow, +she did not want to ask for outside +help. She had a feeling of pride about +handling her own troubles.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Laura came into the shop. +It was the first time that Maida had seen +her since the afternoon of her call and +Maida did not speak. She felt that she +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +could not have anything to do with Laura +after what had happened. But she looked +straight at Laura and waited.</p> + +<p>Laura did not speak either. She looked +at Maida as if she had never seen her before. +She carried her head at its highest +and she moved across the room with her +most important air. As she stood a moment +gazing at the things in the show case, +she had never seemed more patronizing.</p> + +<p>“A cent’s worth of dulse, please,” she +said airily.</p> + +<p>“Dulse?” Maida repeated questioningly; +“I guess I haven’t any. What is dulse?”</p> + +<p>“Haven’t any dulse?” Laura repeated +with an appearance of being greatly +shocked. “Do you mean to say you haven’t +any dulse?”</p> + +<p>Maida did not answer—she put her lips +tight together.</p> + +<p>“This is a healthy shop,” Laura went on +in a sneering tone, “no mollolligobs, no apple-on-the-stick, +no tamarinds, no pop-corn +balls, no dulse. Why don’t you sell the +things we want? Half the children in the +neighborhood are going down to Main +Street to get them now.”</p> + +<p>She bustled out of the shop. Maida +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +stared after her with wide, alarmed eyes. +For a moment she did not stir. Then she +ran into the living-room and buried her face +in Granny’s lap, bursting into tears.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Granny,” she sobbed, “Laura Lathrop +says that half the children don’t like +my shop and they’re going down to Main +Street to buy things. What shall I do? +What shall I do?”</p> + +<p>“There, there, acushla,” Granny said +soothingly, taking the trembling little girl +on to her lap. “Don’t worry about anny +t’ing that wan says. ’Tis a foine little shop +you have, as all the grown folks says.”</p> + +<p>“But, Granny,” Maida protested passionately, +“I don’t want to please the grown +people, I want to please the children. And +papa said I must make the store pay. And +now I’m afraid I never will. Oh, what +shall I do?”</p> + +<p>She got no further. A tinkle of the bell, +followed by pattering footsteps, interrupted. +In an instant, Rosie, brilliant in +her scarlet cape and scarlet hat, with cheeks +and lips the color of cherries, stood at her +side.</p> + +<p>“I saw that hateful Laura come out of +here,” she said. “I just knew she’d come +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +in to make trouble. What did she say to +you?”</p> + +<p>Maida told her slowly between her sobs.</p> + +<p>“Horrid little smarty-cat!” was Rosie’s +comment and she scowled until her face +looked like a thunder-cloud.</p> + +<p>“I shall never speak to her again,” Maida +declared fervently. “But what shall I do +about it, Rosie?—it may be true what she +said.”</p> + +<p>“Now don’t you get discouraged, +Maida,” Rosie said. “Because I can tell +you just how to get or make those things +Laura spoke of.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, can you, Rosie. What would I do +without you? I’ll put everything down in +a book so that I shan’t forget them.”</p> + +<p>She limped over to the desk. There the +black head bent over the golden one.</p> + +<p>“What is dulse?” Maida demanded first.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know what dulse is?” Rosie +asked incredulously. “Maida, you are the +queerest child. The commonest things you +don’t know anything about. And yet I suppose +if I asked you if you’d seen a flying-machine, +you’d say you had.”</p> + +<p>“I have,” Maida answered instantly, “in +Paris.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rosie’s face wrinkled into its most perplexed +look. She changed the subject at +once. “Well, dulse is a purple stuff—when +you see a lot of it together, it looks as if a +million toy-balloons had burst. It’s all +wrinkled up and tastes salty.”</p> + +<p>Maida thought hard for a moment. Then +she burst into laughter, although the big +round tear-drops were still hanging from +the tips of her lashes. “There was a whole +drawerful here when I first came. I remember +now I thought it was waste stuff +and threw it all away.”</p> + +<p>Rosie laughed too. “The tamarinds you +can get from the man who comes round +with the wagon. Mrs. Murdock used to +make her own apples-on-the-stick, mollolligobs +and corn-balls. I’ve helped her many +a time. Now I’ll write you a list of stuff +to order from the grocer. I’ll come round +after school and we’ll make a batch of all +those things. To-night you get Billy to +print a sign, ‘<span style="font-style: italic">apples on the stick and +mollolligobs to-day</span>.’ You put that in the +window to-morrow morning and by to-morrow +night, you’ll be all sold out.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie,” Maida said happily, “I shall +be so much obliged to you!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rosie was as good as her word. She appeared +that afternoon wearing a long-sleeved +apron under the scarlet cape. It +seemed to Maida that she worked like lightning, +for she made batch after batch of +candy, moving as capably about the stove +as an experienced cook. In the meantime, +Maida was popping corn at the fireplace. +They mounted fifty apples on skewers and +dipped them, one at a time, into the boiling +candy. They made thirty corn-balls and +twenty-five mollolligobs, which turned out to +be round chunks of candy, stuck on the end +of sticks.</p> + +<p>“I never did see such clever children anywhere +as there are in Primrose Court,” +Maida said that night with a sigh to +Granny. “Rosie told me that she could +make six kinds of candy. And Dicky +can cook as well as his mother. They +make me feel so useless. Why, Granny, +I can’t do a single thing that’s any good to +anybody.”</p> + +<p>The next day the shop was crowded. By +night there was not an apple, a corn-ball or +a mollolligob left.</p> + +<p>“I shall have a sale like this once a week +in the future,” Maida said. “Why, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +Granny, lots and lots of children came here +who’d never been in the shop before.”</p> + +<p>And so what looked like serious trouble +ended very happily.</p> + +<p>Trouble number three was a great deal +more serious and it did not, at first, promise +to end well at all. It had to do with Arthur +Duncan. It had been going on for a week +before Maida mentioned it to anybody. +But it haunted her very dreams.</p> + +<p>Early Monday morning, Arthur came into +the shop. In his usual gruff voice and with +his usual surly manner, he said, “Show me +some of those rubbers in the window.”</p> + +<p>Maida took out a handful of the rubbers—five, +she thought—and put them on the +counter. While Arthur looked them over, +she turned to replace a paper-doll which +she had knocked down.</p> + +<p>“Guess I won’t take one to-day,” Arthur +said, while her back was still turned, and +walked out.</p> + +<p>When Maida put the rubbers back, she +discovered that there were only four. She +made up her mind that she had not counted +right and thought no more of the incident.</p> + +<p>Two days later, Arthur Duncan came in +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +again. Maida had just been selling some +pencils—pretty striped ones with a blue +stone in the end. Three of them were left +lying out on the counter. Arthur asked +her to show him some penholders. Maida +took three from the shelves back of her. +He bought one of these. After he had gone, +she discovered that there were only two +pencils left on the counter.</p> + +<p>“One of them must have rolled off,” +Maida thought. But although she looked +everywhere, she could not find it. The incident +of the rubber occurred to her. She +felt a little troubled but she resolved to put +both circumstances out of her mind.</p> + +<p>A day or two later, Arthur Duncan came +in for the third time. It happened that +Granny was out marketing.</p> + +<p>Piled on the counter was a stack of blank-books—pretty +books they were, with a +child’s head in color on the cover. Arthur +asked for letter-paper. Maida turned back +to the shelf. With her hand on the sliding +door, she stopped, half-stunned.</p> + +<p><span style="font-style: italic">Reflected in the glass she saw Arthur Duncan +stow one of the blank books away in his +pocket.</span></p> + +<p>Maida felt sick all over. She did not +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +know what to do. She did not know what +to say.</p> + +<p>She fumbled with trembling hands among +the things on the shelf. She dreaded to +turn for fear her face would express what +she had seen.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he’ll pay for it,” she thought; +“I hope he will.”</p> + +<p>But Arthur made no offer to pay. He +looked over the letter-paper that Maida, +with downcast eyes, put before him, decided +that he did not want any after all, and +walked coolly from the shop.</p> + +<p>Granny, coming in a few moments later, +was surprised to find Maida leaning on the +counter, her face buried in her hands.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with my lamb?” the +old lady asked cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“Nothing, Granny,” Maida said. But +she did not meet Granny’s eye and during +dinner she was quiet and serious.</p> + +<p>That night Billy Potter called. “Well, +how goes the <span style="font-style: italic">Bon Marché of</span> Charlestown?” +he asked cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“Billy,” Maida said gravely, “if you +found that a little boy—I can’t say what his +name is—was stealing from you, what would +you do?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p>Billy considered the question as gravely +as she had asked it. “Tell the policeman +on the beat and get him to throw a scare +into him,” he said at last.</p> + +<p>“I guess that’s what I’ll have to do.” +But Maida’s tone was mournful.</p> + +<p>But Granny interrupted.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you do ut, my lamb—don’t you +do ut!” She turned to them both—they +had never seen her blue eyes so fiery before. +“Suppose you was one av these poor little +chilthren that lives round here that’s always +had harrd wurruds for their meals +and hunger for their pillow, wudn’t you be +afther staling yersilf if ut came aisy-loike +and nobody was luking?”</p> + +<p>Neither Billy nor Maida spoke for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I guess Granny’s right,” Billy said +finally.</p> + +<p>“I guess she is,” Maida said with a sigh.</p> + +<p>It was three days before Arthur Duncan +came into the shop again. But in the +meantime, Maida went one afternoon to +play with Dicky. Dicky was drawing at a +table when Maida came in. She glanced at +his work. He was using a striped pencil +with a blue stone in its end, a blank-book +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +with the picture of a little girl on the cover, +a rubber of a kind very familiar to her. +Maida knew certainly that Dicky had +bought none of these things from her. She +knew as certainly that they were the things +Arthur Duncan had stolen. What was the +explanation of the mystery? She went to +bed that night miserably unhappy.</p> + +<p>Her heart beat pit-a-pat the next time +she saw Arthur open the door. She folded +her hands close together so that he should +not see that she was trembling. She began +to wish that she had followed Billy’s advice. +Sitting in the shop all alone—Granny, +it happened again, was out—it occurred +to her that it was, perhaps, too +serious a situation for a little girl to deal +with.</p> + +<p>She had made up her mind that when +Arthur was in the shop, she would not turn +her back to him. She was determined not +to give him the chance to fall into temptation. +But he asked for pencil-sharpeners +and pencil-sharpeners were kept in the lower +drawer. There was nothing for her to +do but to get down on the floor. She remembered +with a sense of relief that she +had left no stock out on the counter. She +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +knelt upright on the floor, seeking for the +box. Suddenly, reflected in the glass door, +she saw another terrifying picture.</p> + +<p><span style="font-style: italic">Arthur Duncan’s arm was just closing +the money drawer.</span></p> + +<p>For an instant Maida felt so sick at heart +that she wanted to run back into the living-room, +throw herself into Granny’s big chair +and cry her eyes out. Then suddenly all +this weakness went. A feeling, such as she +had never known, came into its place. She +was still angry but she was singularly cool. +She felt no more afraid of Arthur Duncan +than of the bowl of dahlias, blooming on +the counter.</p> + +<p>She whirled around in a flash and looked +him straight in the eye.</p> + +<p>“If there is anything in this shop that +you want so much that you are willing to +steal, tell me what it is and I’ll give it to +you,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Aw, what are you talking about?” Arthur +demanded. He attempted to out-stare +her.</p> + +<p>But Maida kept her eyes steadily on his. +“You know what I’m talking about well +enough,” she said quietly. “In the last +week you’ve stolen a rubber and a pencil and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +a blank-book from me and just now you +tried to take some money from the money-drawer.”</p> + +<p>Arthur sneered. “How are you going to +prove it?” he asked impudently.</p> + +<p>Maida was thoroughly angry. But something +inside warned her that she must not +give way to temper. For all her life, she had +been accustomed to think before she spoke. +Indeed, she herself had never been driven or +scolded. Her father had always reasoned +with her. Doctors and nurses had always +reasoned with her. Even Granny had always +reasoned with her. So, now, she +thought very carefully before she spoke +again. But she kept her eyes fixed on Arthur. +His eyes did not move from hers but, +in some curious way, she knew that he was +uneasy.</p> + +<p>“I can’t prove it,” she said at last, “and +I hadn’t any idea of trying to. I’m only +warning you that you must not come in here +if you’re not to be trusted. And I told you +the truth when I said I would rather give +you anything in the shop than have you steal +it. For I think you must need those things +very badly to be willing to get them that +way. I don’t believe anybody <span style="font-style: italic">wants</span> to +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +steal. Now when you want anything so bad +as that, come to me and I’ll see if I can get +it for you.”</p> + +<p>Arthur stared at her as if he had not a +word on his tongue. “If you think you can +frighten me,—” he said. Then, without +ending his sentence, he swaggered out of the +shop. But to Maida his swagger seemed +like something put on to conceal another +feeling.</p> + +<p>Maida suddenly felt very tired. She +wished that Granny Flynn would come back. +She wanted Granny to take her into her +lap, to cuddle her, to tell her some merry +little tale of the Irish fairies. But, instead, +the bell rang and another customer came in. +While she was waiting on her, Maida noticed +somebody come stealthily up to the +window, look in and then duck down. She +wondered if it might be Billy playing one +of his games on her.</p> + +<p>The customer went out. In a few moments +the bell tinkled again. Maida had +been leaning against the counter, her tired +head on her outstretched arms. She looked +up. It was Arthur Duncan.</p> + +<p>He strode straight over to her.</p> + +<p>“Here’s three cents for your rubber,” he +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +said, “and five for your pencil, five for the +blank book and there’s two dimes I took out +of the money-drawer.”</p> + +<p>Maida did not know what to say. The +tears came to her eyes and rolled down her +cheeks. Arthur shifted his weight from one +foot to the other in intense embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know it would make you feel +as bad as that,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I don’t feel bad,” Maida sobbed—and to +prove it she smiled while the tears ran down +her cheeks—“I feel glad.”</p> + +<p>What he would have answered to this she +never knew. For at that moment the door +flew open. The little rowdy boys who had +been troubling her so much lately, let out a +series of blood-curdling yells.</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” Arthur asked.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know who they are,” Maida said +wearily, “but they do that three or four +times every night. I don’t know what to +do about it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I do,” Arthur said. “You wait!”</p> + +<p>He went over to the door and waited, flattening +himself against the wall. After a +long silence, they could hear footsteps tip-toeing +on the bricks outside. The door flew +open. Arthur Duncan leaped like a cat +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +through the opening. There came back to +Maida the sound of running, then a pause, +then another sound very much as if two or +three naughty little heads were being vigorously +knocked together. She heard Arthur +say:</p> + +<p>“Let me catch one of you doing that again +and I’ll lick you till you can’t stand up. +And remember I’ll be watching for you +every night now.”</p> + +<p>Maida did not see him again then. But +just before dinner the bell rang. When +Maida opened the door there stood Arthur.</p> + +<p>“I had this kitten and I thought you +might like him,” he said awkwardly, holding +out a little bundle of gray fluff.</p> + +<p>“Want it!” Maida said. She seized it +eagerly. “Oh, thank you, Arthur, ever so +much. Oh, Granny, look at this darling +kit-kat. What a ball of fluff he is! I’ll +call him Fluff. And he isn’t an Angora or +a prize kitty of any kind—just a beautiful +plain everyday cat—the kind I’ve always +wanted!”</p> + +<p>Even this was not all. After dinner the +shop bell rang again. This time it was Arthur +and Rosie. Rosie’s lips were very +tight as if she had made up her mind to +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +some bold deed but her flashing eyes showed +her excitement.</p> + +<p>“Can we see you alone for a moment, +Maida?” she asked in her most business-like +tones.</p> + +<p>Wondering, Maida shut the door to the +living-room and came back to them.</p> + +<p>“Maida,” Rosie began, “Arthur told me +all about the rubber and the pencil and the +blank book and the dimes. Of course, I felt +pretty bad when I heard about it. But I +wanted Arthur to come right over here and +explain the whole thing to you. You see +Arthur took those things to give away to +Dicky because Dicky has such a hard time +getting anything he wants.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I saw them over at Dicky’s,” Maida +said.</p> + +<p>“And then, there was a great deal more to +it that Arthur’s just told me and I thought +you ought to know it at once. You see Arthur’s +father belongs to a club that meets +once a month and Arthur goes there a lot +with him. And those men think that plenty +of people have things that they have no +right to—oh, like automobiles—I mean, +things that they haven’t earned. And the +men in Mr. Duncan’s club say that it’s perfectly +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +right to take things away from people +who have too much and give them to people +who have too little. But I say that may be +all right for grown people but when children +do it, it’s just plain <span style="font-style: italic">stealing</span>. And that’s +all there is to it! But I wanted you to know +that Arthur thought it was right—well sort +of right, you understand—when he took +those things. You don’t think so now, do +you, after the talking-to I’ve given you?” +She turned severely on Arthur.</p> + +<p>Arthur shuffled and looked embarrassed. +“No,” he said sheepishly, “not until you’re +grown up.”</p> + +<p>“But what I wanted to say next, Maida,” +Rosie continued, “is, please not to tell +Dicky. He would be so surprised—and +then he wouldn’t keep the things that Arthur +gave him. And of course now that +Arthur has paid for them—they’re all right +for him to have.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I wouldn’t tell anybody,” +Maida said in a shocked voice, “not even +Granny or Billy—not even my father.”</p> + +<p>“Then that’s settled,” Rosie said with a +sigh. “Good night.”</p> + +<p>The next day the following note reached Maida: +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 3.00em; margin-left: 4.00em; margin-top: 2.00em; margin-right: 4.00em"> +You are cordully invited to join the W.M.N.T. Club which meets three times a +week at the house of Miss Rosie Brine, or Mr. Richard Dore or Mr. Arthur Duncan. +<br /><br /> +P.S. The name means, WE MUST +NEVER TELL.</p> + +<p>Maida dreamed nothing but happy +dreams that night.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>A RAINY DAY</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>The next day it rained dismally. Maida +had been running the shop for three +weeks but this was her first experience with +stormy weather. Because she, herself, had +never been allowed to set her foot outdoors +when the weather was damp, she expected +that she would see no children that day. +But long before the bell rang they crowded +in wet streaming groups into the shop. And +at nine the lines disappearing into the big +school doorways seemed as long as ever.</p> + +<p>Even the Clark twins in rubber boots, +long rain-capes and a baby umbrella came +in to spend their daily pennies.</p> + +<p>“I guess it’ll be one session, Maida,” +Dorothy whispered.</p> + +<p>“Oh goody, Dorothy!” Mabel lisped. +“Don’t you love one session, Maida?”</p> + +<p>Maida was ashamed to confess to two such +tiny girls that she did not know what “one +session” meant. But she puzzled over it +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +the whole morning. If Rosie and Arthur +had come in she would have asked them. +But neither of them appeared. Indeed, +they were not anywhere in the lines—Maida +looked very carefully.</p> + +<p>At twelve o’clock the school bell did not +ring. In surprise, Maida craned out of the +window to consult the big church clock. It +agreed exactly with the tall grandfather’s +clock in the living-room. Both pointed to +twelve, then to five minutes after and ten +and fifteen—still no bell.</p> + +<p>A little later Dicky came swinging along, +the sides of his old rusty raincoat flapping +like the wings of some great bird.</p> + +<p>“It’s one-session, Maida,” he said jubilantly, +“did you hear the bell?”</p> + +<p>“What’s one session, Dicky?” Maida +asked.</p> + +<p>“Why, when it’s too stormy for the children +to go to school in the afternoon the fire-bells +ring twenty-two at quarter to twelve. +They keep all the classes in until one +o’clock though.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s why they don’t come out,” +Maida said.</p> + +<p>At one o’clock the umbrellas began to file +out of the school door. The street looked +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +as if it had grown a monster crop of shiny +black toad-stools. But it was the only sign +of life that the neighborhood showed for the +rest of the day. The storm was too violent +for even the big boys and girls to brave. A +very long afternoon went by. Not a customer +came into the shop. Maida felt very +lonely. She wandered from shop to living-room +and from living-room to chamber. +She tried to read. She sewed a little. She +even popped corn for a lonesome fifteen +minutes. But it seemed as if the long dark +day would never go.</p> + +<p>As they were sitting down to dinner that +night, Billy bounced in—his face pink and +wet, his eyes sparkling like diamonds from +his conflict with the winds.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy, how glad I am to see you,” +Maida said. “It’s been the lonesomest +day.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, the sight av ye’s grand for sore +eyes,” said Granny.</p> + +<p>Maida had noticed that Billy’s appearance +always made the greatest difference in +everything. Before he came, the noise of +the wind howling about the store made +Maida sad. Now it seemed the jolliest of +sounds. And when at seven, Rosie appeared, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +Maida’s cup of happiness brimmed +over.</p> + +<p>While Billy talked with Granny, the two +little girls rearranged the stock.</p> + +<p>“My mother was awful mad with me just +before supper,” Rosie began at once. “It +seems as if she was so cross lately that +there’s no living with her. She picks on +me all the time. That’s why I’m here. She +sent me to bed. But I made up my mind +I wouldn’t go to bed. I climbed out my bedroom +window and came over here.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie, I wish you wouldn’t do that,” +Maida said. “Oh, do run right home! +Think how worried your mother would be +if she went up into your room and found you +gone. She wouldn’t know what had become +of you.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, what makes her so strict with +me?” Rosie cried. Her eyes had grown as +black as thunder clouds. The scowl that +made her face so sullen had come deep between +her eyebrows.</p> + +<p>“Oh, how I wish I had a mother,” Maida +said longingly. “I guess I wouldn’t say a +word to her, no matter how strict she was.”</p> + +<p>“I guess you don’t know what you’d do +until you tried it,” Rosie said. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>Granny and Billy had been curiously +quiet in the other room. Suddenly Billy +Potter stepped to the door.</p> + +<p>“I’ve just thought of a great game, children,” +he said. “But we’ve got to play it +in the kitchen. Bring some crayons, +Maida.”</p> + +<p>The children raced after him. “What is +it?” they asked in chorus.</p> + +<p>Billy did not answer. He lifted Granny’s +easy-chair with Granny, knitting and +all, and placed it in front of the kitchen +stove. Then he began to draw a huge rectangle +on the clean, stone floor.</p> + +<p>“Guess,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Sure and Oi know what ut’s going to +be,” smiled Granny.</p> + +<p>Maida and Rosie watched him closely. +Suddenly they both shouted together:</p> + +<p>“Hopscotch! Hopscotch!”</p> + +<p>“Right you are!” Billy approved. He +searched among the coals in the hod until +he found a hard piece of slate.</p> + +<p>“All ready now!” he said briskly. +“Your turn, first, Rosie, because you’re +company.”</p> + +<p>Rosie failed on “fivesy.” Maida’s turn +came next and she failed on “threesy.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +Billy followed Maida but he hopped on the +line on “twosy.”</p> + +<p>“Oi belave Oi cud play that game, ould as +Oi am,” Granny said suddenly.</p> + +<p>“I bet you could,” Billy said.</p> + +<p>“Sure, ’twas a foine player Oi was when +Oi was a little colleen.”</p> + +<p>“Come on, Granny,” Billy said.</p> + +<p>The two little girls jumped up and down, +clapping their hands and shrieking, “Granny’s +going to play!” “Granny’s going to +play!” They made so much noise finally, +that Billy had to threaten to stand them on +their heads in a corner.</p> + +<p>Granny took her turn after Billy. She +hopped about like a very active and a very +benevolent old fairy.</p> + +<p>“Oh, doesn’t she look like the Dame in +fairy tales?” Maida said.</p> + +<p>They played for a half an hour. And +who do you suppose won? Not Maida with +all her new-found strength, not Rosie with +all her nervous energy, not Billy with all his +athletic training.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Delia Flynn, champion of America +and Ireland,” Billy greeted the victor. +“Granny, we’ll have to enter you in the next +Olympic games.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>They returned after this breathless work +to the living-room.</p> + +<p>“Now I’m going to tell you a story,” +Billy announced.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Maida squealed. “Do! +Billy tells the most wonderful stories, Rosie—stories +he’s heard and stories he’s read. +But the most wonderful ones are those that +he makes up as he goes along.”</p> + +<p>The two little girls settled themselves on +the hearth-rug at Billy’s feet. Granny sat, +not far off, working with double speed at her +neglected knitting.</p> + +<p>“Once upon a time,” Billy said, +“there +lived a little girl named Klara. And Klara +was the naughtiest little girl in the world. +She was a pretty child and a clever child +and everybody would have loved her if she +had only given them a chance. But how +can you love a child who is doing naughty +things all the time? Particularly was she +a great trial to her mother. That poor lady +was not well and needed care and attention, +herself. But instead of giving her these, +Klara gave her only hard words and disobedient +acts. The mother used sometimes +to punish her little daughter but it seemed +as if this only made her worse. Both father +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +and mother were in despair about her. +Klara seemed to be growing steadily worse +and worse. And, indeed, lately, she had +added to her naughtiness by threatening to +run away.</p> + +<p>“One night, it happened, +Klara had been +so bad that her mother had put her to bed +early. The moment her mother left the +room, Klara whipped over to the window. +‘I’m going to dress myself and climb out the +window and run away and never come back,’ +she said to herself.’</p> + +<p>“The house in which Klara lived was +built on the side of a cliff, overlooking the +sea. As Klara stood there in her nightgown +the moon began to rise and come up out of +the water. Now the moonrise is always a +beautiful sight and Klara stopped for a moment +to watch it, fascinated.</p> + +<p>“It seemed to her that she had never seen +the moon look so big before. And certainly +she had never seen it such a color—a soft +deep orange. In fact, it might have been +an immense orange—or better, a monster +pumpkin stuck on the horizon-line.</p> + +<p>“The strange thing about the moon, +though, was that it grew larger instead of +smaller. It rose higher and higher, growing +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +bigger and bigger, until it was half-way +up the curve of the sky. Then it stopped +short. Klara watched it, her eyes bulging +out of her head. In all her experience she +had never seen such a surprising thing. +And while she watched, another remarkable +thing happened. A great door in the moon +opened suddenly and there on the threshold +stood a little old lady. A strange little old +lady she was—a little old lady with short red +skirts and high, gayly-flowered draperies at +her waist, a little old lady with a tall black, +sugar-loaf hat, a great white ruff around her +neck and little red shoes with bright silver +buckles on them—a little old lady who carried +a black cat perched on one shoulder and +a broomstick in one hand.</p> + +<p>“The little old lady stooped down and +lifted something over the threshold. Klara +strained her eyes to see what it was. It +looked like a great roll of golden carpeting. +With a sudden deft movement the little old +lady threw it out of the door. It flew +straight across the ocean, unrolling as +swiftly as a ball of twine that you’ve flung +across the room. It came nearer and nearer. +The farther it got from the moon, the +faster it unrolled. After a while it struck +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +against the shore right under Klara’s window +and Klara saw that it was the wake of +the moon. She watched.</p> + +<p>“The little old lady had disappeared from +the doorway in the moon but the door did +not close. And, suddenly, still another wonderful +thing happened. The golden wake +lifted itself gradually from the water until +it was on a level with Klara’s window. +Bending down she touched it with both her +soft little hands. It was as firm and hard +as if it had been woven from strands of +gold.</p> + +<p>“‘Now’s my time to run away from my +cross mother,’ Klara said to herself. ‘I +guess that nice old lady in the moon wants +me to come and be her little girl. Well, I’ll +go. I guess they’ll be sorry in this house +to-morrow when they wake up and find +they’re never going to see me again.’</p> + +<p>“Opening the window gently that nobody +might hear her, she stepped on to the Wake +of Gold. It felt cool and hard to her little +bare feet. It inclined gently from her window. +She ran down the slope until she +reached the edge of the sea. There she hesitated. +For a moment it seemed a daring +thing to walk straight out to the moon with +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +nothing between her and the water but a +path of gold. Then she recalled how her +mother had sent her to bed and her heart +hardened. She started briskly out.</p> + +<p>“From Klara’s window it had looked +as though it would take her only a few moments +to get to the moon. But the farther +she went, the farther from her the doorway +seemed to go. But she did not mind that +the walk was so long because it was so +pretty. Looking over the edge of the Wake +of Gold, deep down in the water, she could +see all kinds of strange sights.</p> + +<p>“At one place a school of little fish swam +up to the surface of the water. Klara knelt +down and watched their pretty, graceful +motions. The longer she gazed the more +fish she saw and the more beautiful they +seemed. Pale-blue fishes with silver spots. +Pale-pink ones with golden stripes. Gorgeous +red ones with jewelled black horns. +Brilliant yellow and green ones that shone +like phosphorus. And here and there, gliding +among them, were what seemed little +angel-fish like living rainbows, whose filmy +wing-like fins changed color when they +swam.</p> + +<p>“Klara reached into the water and tried +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +to catch some of these marvelous beings.</p> + +<p>“But at her first motion—bing! The water +looked as if it were streaked with rainbow +lightning. Swish! It was dull and +clear again, with nothing between her and +the quiet, seaweed-covered bottom.</p> + +<p>“A little farther along Klara came across +a wonderful sea-grotto. Again she knelt +down on the Wake of Gold and watched. +At the bottom the sand was so white and +shiny that it might have been made of star-dust. +Growing up from it were beds of +marvelous seaflowers, opening and shutting +delicate petals, beautiful seafans that waved +with every ripple, high, thick shrubs and +towering trees in which the fishes had built +their nests. In and out among all this undergrowth, +frisked tiny sea-horses, ridden +by mischievous sea-urchins. They leaped +and trotted and galloped as if they were so +happy that they did not know what to do. +Klara felt that she must play with them. +She put one little foot into the water to attract +their attention. Bing! The water +seemed alive with scuttling things. Swish! +The grotto was so quiet that she could not +believe that there was anything living in it.</p> + +<p>“A little farther on, Klara came upon a +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +sight even more wonderful than this—a village +of mer-people. It was set so far down +in the water that it seemed a million miles +away. And yet the water was so clear that +she felt she could touch the housetops.</p> + +<p>“The mer-houses seemed to be made of a +beautiful, sparkling white coral with big, +wide-open windows through which the tide +drifted. The mer-streets seemed to be cobbled +in pearl, the sidewalks to be paved in +gold. At their sides grew mer-trees, the +highest she had ever seen, with all kinds of +beautiful singing fish roosting in their +branches. Little mer-boats of carved pink +coral with purple seaweed sails or of mother-of-pearl +with rosy, mer-flower-petal sails, +were floating through the streets. In some, +sat little mer-maidens, the sunlight flashing +on their pretty green scales, on their long, +golden tresses, on the bright mirrors they +held in their hands. Other boats held little +mer-boys who made beautiful music on the +harps they carried.</p> + +<p>“At one end of the mer-village Klara +could see one palace, bigger and more beautiful +than all the others. Through an open +window she caught a glimpse of the mer-king—a +jolly old fellow with a fat red face +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +and a long white beard sitting on a throne +of gold. At his side reclined the mer-queen—a +very beautiful lady with a skin as white +as milk and eyes as green as emeralds. Little +mer-princes and little mer-princesses +were playing on the floor with tiny mer-kittens +and tinier mer-puppies. One sweet +little mer-baby was tiptailing towards the +window with a pearl that she had stolen +from her sister’s coronet.</p> + +<p>“It seemed to Klara that this mer-village +was the most enchanting place that she had +ever seen in her life. Oh, how she wanted +to live there!</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, good mer-king,’ she called entreatingly, +‘and good mer-queen, please let me +come to live in your palace.’</p> + +<p>“Bing! The water rustled and roiled as +if all the birds of paradise that the world +contained had taken flight. Swish! It +was perfectly quiet again. The mer-village +was as deserted as a graveyard.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, if they don’t want me, they +shan’t get me,” Klara said. And she walked +on twice as proud.’</p> + +<p>“By this time she was getting closer and +closer to the moon. The nearer she came +the bigger it grew. Now it filled the entire +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +sky. The door had remained open all this +time. Through it she could see a garden—a +garden more beautiful than any fairy-tale +garden that she had ever read about. From +the doorway silvery paths stretched between +hedges as high as a giant’s head. Sometimes +these paths ended in fountains whose +spray twisted into all kinds of fairy-like +shapes. Sometimes these paths seemed to +stop flush against the clouds. Nearer +stretched flower-beds so brilliant that you +would have thought a kaleidoscope had +broken on the ground. Birds, like living +jewels, flew in and out through the tree-branches. +They sang so hard that it seemed +to Klara they must burst their little throats. +From the branches hung all kinds of precious +stones, all kinds of delicious-looking +fruits and candies.</p> + +<p>“Klara could not scramble through the +door quickly enough.</p> + +<p>“But as she put one foot on the threshold +the little old lady appeared. She looked as +if she had stepped out of a fairy-tale. And +yet Klara had a strange feeling of discomfort +when she looked at her. It seemed to +Klara that the old lady’s mouth was cruel +and her eyes hard. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>“‘Are you the little girl who’s run away?’ +the old lady asked.</p> + +<p>“‘Yes,’ Klara faltered.</p> + +<p>“‘And you want to live in the Kingdom +of the Moon?’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes.’</p> + +<p>“‘Enter then.’</p> + +<p>“The old lady stepped aside and Klara +marched across the threshold. She felt the +door swinging to behind her. She heard a +bang as it closed, shutting her out of the +world and into the moon.</p> + +<p>“And then—and then—what do you think +happened?”</p> + +<p>Billy stopped for a moment. Rosie and +Maida rose to their knees.</p> + +<p>“What happened?” they asked breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“The garden vanished as utterly as if it +were a broken soap-bubble. Gone were the +trees and the flowers; gone were the fountains +and the birds; gone, too, were the jewels, +the candies and the fruits.</p> + +<p>“The place had become a huge, dreary +waste, stretching as far as Klara could see +into the distance. It seemed to her as if all +the trash that the world had outgrown had +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +been dumped here—it was so covered with +heaps of old rubbish.</p> + +<p>“Klara turned to the old lady. She had +not changed except that her cruel mouth +sneered.</p> + +<p>“Klara burst into tears. ‘I want to go +home,’ she screamed. ‘Let me go back to my mother.’”</p> + +<p>“The old lady only smiled. ‘You open +that door and let me go back to my mother,’ +Klara cried passionately.</p> + +<p>“‘But I can’t open it,’ the old lady said. +‘It’s locked. I have no keys.’</p> + +<p>“‘Where are the keys?’ Klara asked.</p> + +<p>“The old lady pointed to the endless heaps +of rubbish. ‘There, somewhere,’ she said.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ll find them,’ Klara screamed, ‘and +open that door and run back to my home. +You shan’t keep me from my own dear +mother, you wicked woman.’</p> + +<p>“‘Nobody wants to keep you,’ the old +lady said. ‘You came of your own accord. +Find the keys if you want to go back.’</p> + +<p>“That was true and Klara wisely did not +answer. But you can fancy how she regretted +coming. She began to search among the +dump-heaps. She could find no keys. But +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +the longer she hunted the more determined +she grew. It seemed to her that she +searched for weeks and weeks.</p> + +<p>“It was very discouraging, very dirty and +very fatiguing work. She moved always in +a cloud of dust. At times it seemed as if +her back would break from bending so +much. Often she had to bite her lips to +keep from screaming with rage after she +had gone through a rubbish-pile as high as +her head and, still, no keys. All kinds of +venomous insects stung her. All kinds of +vines and brambles scratched her. All +kinds of stickers and thistles pricked her. +Her little feet and hands bled all the time. +But still she kept at it. After that first +conversation, Klara never spoke with the +old lady again. After a few days Klara left +her in the distance. At the end of a week, +the moon-door was no longer in sight when +Klara looked back.</p> + +<p>“But during all those weeks of weary +work Klara had a chance to think. She +saw for the first time what a naughty little +girl she had been and how she had worried +the kindest mother in the world. Her longing +for her mother grew so great at times +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +that she had to sit down and cry. But after +a while she would dry her eyes and go at the +hunt with fresh determination.</p> + +<p>“One day she caught a glint of something +shining from a clump of bushes. She had +to dig and dig to get at it for about these +bushes the ashes were packed down hard. +But finally she uncovered a pair of iron +keys. On one was printed in letters of +gold, ‘I’m SORRY,’ on the other, ‘I’LL +NEVER DO SO AGAIN.’</p> + +<p>“Klara seized the keys joyfully and ran +all the long way back to the great door. It +had two locks. She put one key in the upper +lock, turned it—a great bolt jarred. +She put the other key into the second lock, +turned it—a great bolt jarred. The door +swung open.</p> + +<p>“‘I’m sorry,’ Klara whispered to herself. +‘I’ll never do so again.’</p> + +<p>“She had a feeling that as long as she +said those magic words, everything would +go well with her.</p> + +<p>“Extending out from the door was the +Wake of Gold. Klara bounded through +the opening and ran. She turned back after +a few moments and there was the old lady +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +with her cat and her broomstick standing +in the doorway. But the old lady’s face had +grown very gentle and kind.</p> + +<p>“Klara did not look long. She ran as +fast as she could pelt across the golden path, +whispering, ‘I’m sorry. I will never do so +again. I’m sorry. I will never do so again. +I’m sorry. I will never do so again.’</p> + +<p>“And as she ran all the little mer-people +came to the surface of the water to encourage +her. The little mer-maidens flashed +their mirrors at her. The little mer-boys +played wonderful music on their harps. +The mer-king gave her a jolly smile and the +mer-queen blew her a kiss. All the little +mer-princesses and all the little mer-princes +held up their pets to her. Even the mer-baby +clapped her dimpled hands.</p> + +<p>“And farther on all the little sea horses +with the sea urchins on their backs assembled +in bobbing groups. And farther on all +the little rainbow fishes gathered in shining +files. As she ran all the scratches and +gashes in her flesh healed up.</p> + +<p>“After a while she reached her own window. +Opening it, she jumped in. Turning +to pull it down she saw the old lady disappear +from the doorway of the moon, saw +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +the door close upon her, saw the Wake of +Gold melt and fall into the sea where it lay +in a million gleaming spangles, saw the +moon float up into the sky, growing smaller +and smaller and paler and paler until it +was no larger than a silver plate. And now +it was the moon no longer—it was the sun. +Its rays were shining hot on her face. She +was back in her little bed. Her mother’s +arms were about her and Klara was saying, +‘I’m SORRY. I WILL NEVER DO SO +AGAIN.’”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>For a long time after Billy finished the +room was very quiet. Then suddenly Rosie +jumped to her feet. “That was a lovely +story, Billy,” she said. “But I guess I +don’t want to hear any more now. I think +I’ll go home.”</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>WORK</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>It was still raining when Maida got up +the next day. It rained all the morning. +She listened carefully at a quarter to +twelve for the one-session bell but it did not +ring. Just before school began in the afternoon +Rosie came into the shop. Maida saw +at once that something had happened to her. +Rosie’s face looked strange and she dragged +across the room instead of pattering with +her usual quick, light step.</p> + +<p>“What do you think’s happened, +Maida?” Rosie asked.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Oh, what?” Maida asked +affrighted.</p> + +<p>“When I came home from school this +noon mother wasn’t there. But Aunt +Theresa was there—she’d cooked the dinner. +She said that mother had gone away for a +visit and that she wouldn’t be back for some +time. She said she was going to keep house +for father and me while mother was gone. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +I feel dreadfully homesick and lonesome +without mother.”</p> + +<p>“Oh Rosie, I am sorry,” Maida said. +“But perhaps your mother won’t stay long. +Do you like your Aunt Theresa?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I like her. But of course she +isn’t mother.”</p> + +<p>“No, of course. Nobody is like your +mother.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; there’s something else I had to +tell you. The W.M.N.T.’s are going to +meet at Dicky’s after school this afternoon. +Be sure to come, Maida.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I’ll come.” Maida’s whole +face sparkled. “That is, if Granny doesn’t +think it’s too wet.”</p> + +<p>Rosie lingered for a few moments but she +did not seem like her usual happy-go-lucky +self. And when she left, Maida noticed that +instead of running across the street she actually +walked.</p> + +<p>All the morning long Maida talked of +nothing to Granny but the prospective meeting +of the W.M.N.T.’s. “Just think, +Granny, I never belonged to a club before,” +she said again and again.</p> + +<p>Very early she had put out on her bed the +clothes that she intended to wear—a tanbrown +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +serge of which she was particularly +fond, and her favorite “tire” of a delicate, +soft lawn. She kept rushing to the window +to study the sky. It continued to look like +the inside of a dull tin cup. She would not +have eaten any lunch at all if Granny had +not told her that she must. And her heart +sank steadily all the afternoon for the rain +continued to come down.</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose I can go, Granny,” she +faltered when the clock struck four.</p> + +<p>“Sure an you + <span style="font-style: italic">can</span>,” Granny responded +briskly.</p> + +<p>But she wrapped Maida up, as Maida herself +said: “As if I was one of papa’s +carved crystals come all the way from +China.”</p> + +<p>First Granny put on a sweater, then a +coat, then over all a raincoat. She put a +hood on her head and a veil over that. She +made her wear rubber boots and take an +umbrella. Maida got into a gale of laughter +during the dressing.</p> + +<p>“I ought to be wrapped in excelsior now,” +she said. “If I fall down in the puddle in +the court, Granny,” she threatened merrily, +“I never can pick myself up. I’ll either +have to roll and roll and roll until I get on +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +to dry land or I’ll have to wait until somebody +comes and shovels me out.”</p> + +<p>But she did not fall into the puddle. She +walked carefully along the edge and then +ran as swiftly as her clothes and lameness +would permit. She arrived in Dicky’s garret, +red-cheeked and breathless.</p> + +<p>Arthur and Rosie had already come. +Rosie was playing on the floor with Delia +and the puppy that she had rescued from +the tin-can persecution. Rosie was growling, +the dog was yelping and Delia was +squealing—but all three with delight.</p> + +<p>Arthur and Dicky sat opposite each other, +working at the round table.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of that dog now, +Maida?” Rosie asked proudly. “His name +is <span style="font-style: normal">‘Tag.’</span> You wouldn’t know him for the +same dog, would you? Isn’t he a nice-looking +little puppy?”</p> + +<p>Tag did look like another dog. He wore +a collar and his yellowy coat shone like +satin. His whole manner had changed. He +came running over to Maida and stood looking +at her with the most spirited air in the +world, his head on one side, one paw up and +one ear cocked inquisitively. His tail wriggled +so fast that Delia thinking it some wonderful +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +new toy, kept trying to catch it and +hold it in her little fingers.</p> + +<p>“He’s a lovely doggie,” Maida said. “I +wish I’d brought Fluff.”</p> + +<p>“And did you ever see such a dear baby,” +Rosie went on, hugging Delia. “Oh, if I +only had a baby brother or sister!”</p> + +<p>“She’s a darling,” Maida agreed heartily. +“Babies are so much more fun than dolls, +don’t you think so, Rosie?”</p> + +<p>“Dolls!” No words can express the contempt +that was in Miss Brine’s accent.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing, Dicky?” Maida +asked, limping over to the table.</p> + +<p>“Making things,” Dicky said cheerfully.</p> + +<p>On the table were piles of mysterious-looking +objects made entirely of paper. +Some were of white paper and others of +brown, but they were all decorated with +trimmings of colored tissue.</p> + +<p>“What are they?” Maida asked. “Aren’t +they lovely? I never saw anything like +them in my life.”</p> + +<p>Dicky blushed all over his face at this +compliment but it was evident that he was +delighted. “Well, those are paper-boxes,” +he said, pointing to the different piles of +things, “and those are steamships. Those +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +are the old-fashioned kind with double +smokestacks. Those are double-boats, +jackets, pants, badges, nose-pinchers, +lamp-lighters, firemen’s caps and soldier +caps.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s why you buy all that colored +paper,” Maida said in a tone of great satisfaction. +“I’ve often wondered.” She examined +Dicky’s work carefully. She could +see that it was done with remarkable precision +and skill. “Oh, what fun to do +things like that. I do wish you’d show me +how to make them, Dicky. I’m such a useless +girl. I can’t make a single thing.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll show you, sure,” Dicky offered generously.</p> + +<p>“What are you making so many for?” +Maida queried.</p> + +<p>“Well, you see it’s this way,” Dicky began +in a business-like air. “Arthur and +Rosie and I are going to have a fair. We’ve +had a fair every spring and every fall for +the last three years. That’s how we get our +money for Christmas and the Fourth of +July. Arthur whittles things out of wood—he’ll +show you what he can do in a minute—he’s +a crackajack. Rosie makes candy. +And I make these paper things.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And do you make much money?” Maida +asked, deeply interested.</p> + +<p>“Don’t make any money at all,” Dicky +said. “The children pay us in nails. I +charge them ten nails a-piece for the easy +things and twenty nails for the hardest. +Arthur can get more for his stuff because +it’s harder to do.”</p> + +<p>“But what do you want nails for?” +Maida asked in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>“Why, nails are junk.”</p> + +<p>“And what’s junk?”</p> + +<p>The three children stared at her. “Don’t +you know what <span style="font-style: italic">junk</span> is, Maida?” Rosie +asked in despair.</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Junk’s old iron,” Dicky explained. +“And you sell it to the junkman. Once we +made forty cents out of one of these fairs. +One reason we’re beginning so early this +year, I’ve got something very particular I +want to buy my mother for a Christmas +present. Can you keep a secret, Maida?”</p> + +<p>Maida nodded.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s a fur collar for her neck. +They have them down in a store on Main +street every winter—two dollars and ninetyeight +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +cents. It seems an awful lot but I’ve +got over a dollar saved up. And I guess I +can do it if I work hard.”</p> + +<p>“How much have you made ordinarily?” +Maida asked thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Once we made forty cents a-piece but +that’s the most.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you what you do,” Maida burst +out impetuously after a moment of silence +in which she considered this statement. +“When the time comes for you to hold your +fair, I’ll lend you my shop for a day. I’ll +take all the things out of the window and +I’ll clean all the shelves off and you boys +can put your things there. I’ll clear out +the showcases for Rosie’s candy. Won’t +that be lovely?” She smiled happily.</p> + +<p>“It would be grand business for us,” +Dicky said soberly, “but somehow it doesn’t +seem quite fair to you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, please don’t think of that,” Maida +said. “I’d just love to do it. And you +must teach me how to make things so that I +can help you. You will take the shop, +Dicky?” she pleaded. “And you, Rosie? +And Arthur?” She looked from one to the +other with all her heart in her eyes. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>But nobody spoke for a moment. “It +seems somehow as if we oughtn’t to,” Dicky +said awkwardly at last.</p> + +<p>Maida’s lip trembled. At first she could +not understand. Here she was aching to do +a kindness to these three friends of hers. +And they, for some unknown reason, would +not permit it. It was not that they disliked +her, she knew. What was it? She tried to +put herself in their place. Suddenly it +came to her what the difficulty was. They +did not want to be so much in her debt. +How could she prevent that? She must let +them do something for her that would lessen +that debt. But what? She thought very +hard. In a flash it came to her—a plan by +which she could make it all right.</p> + +<p>“You see,” she began eagerly, “I wanted +to ask you three to help me in something, +but I can’t do it unless you let me help you. +Listen—the next holiday is Halloween. I +want to decorate my shop with a lot of real +jack-o’-lanterns cut from pumpkins. It +will be hard work and a lot of it and I was +hoping that perhaps you’d help me with +this.”</p> + +<p>The three faces lighted up. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Of course we will,” Dicky said heartily.</p> + +<p>“Gee, I bet Dicky and I could make some +great lanterns,” Arthur said reflectively.</p> + +<p>“And I’ll help you fix up the store,” +Rosie said with enthusiasm. “I just love to +make things look pretty.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a bargain then,” Maida said. “And +now you must teach me how to help you +this very afternoon, Dicky.”</p> + +<p>They fell to work with a vim. At least +three of them did. Rosie continued to +frisk with Delia and Tag on the floor. +Dicky started Maida on the caps first. He +said that those were the easiest. And, indeed +she had very little trouble with anything +until she came to the boxes. She had +to do her first box over and over again +before it would come right. But Dicky was +very patient with her. He kept telling her +that she did better than most beginners or +she would have given it up. When she +made her first good box, her face beamed +with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“Do you mind if I take it home, Dicky?” +she asked. “I’d like to show it to my father +when he comes. It’s the first thing +I ever made in my life.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Of course,” Dicky said.</p> + +<p>“Don’t the other children ever try to copy +your things?” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“They try to,” Arthur answered, “but +they never do so well as Dicky.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to see their nose-pinchers,” +Rosie laughed. “They can’t stand up +straight. And their boxes and steamships +are the wobbliest things.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to get all kinds of stuff for +things we make for the fair,” Maida said +reflectively. “Gold and silver paper and +colored stars and pretty fancy pictures +for trimmings. You see if you’re going to +charge real money you must make them +more beautiful than those for which you +only charged nails.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” Dicky said. “By George, +that will be great! You go ahead and buy +whatever you think is right, Maida, and I’ll +pay you for it from what we take in at the +fair.”</p> + +<p>“That’s settled. What do you whittle, +Arthur?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, all kinds of things—things I made +up myself and things I learned how to do +in sloyd in school. I make bread-boards +and rolling pins and shinny sticks and cats +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +and little baskets out of cherry-stones.”</p> + +<p>“Jiminy crickets, he’s forgetting the +boats,” Dicky burst in enthusiastically. +“He makes the dandiest boats you ever saw +in your life.”</p> + +<p>Maida looked at Arthur in awe. “I +never heard anything like it! Can you +make anything for girls?”</p> + +<p>“Made me a set of the darlingest dolls’ +furniture you ever saw in your life,” Rosie +put in from the floor.</p> + +<p>“Say, did you get into any trouble last +night?” Arthur turned suddenly to Rosie. +“I forgot to ask you.”</p> + +<p>“Arthur and Rosie hooked jack yesterday, +in all that rain,” Dicky explained to +Maida. “They knew a place where they +could get a whole lot of old iron and they +were afraid if they waited, it would be +gone.”</p> + +<p>“I should say I did,” Rosie answered Arthur’s +question. “Somebody went and tattled +to my mother. Of course, I was wet +through to the skin and that gave the whole +thing away, anyway. I got the worst scolding +and mother sent me to bed without my +supper. But I climbed out the window and +went over to see Maida. I don’t mind! I +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +hate school and as long as I live I shall +never go except when I want to—never, +never, never! I guess I’m not going to be +shut up studying when I’d rather be out in +the open air. Wouldn’t you hook jack if +you wanted to, Maida?”</p> + +<p>Maida did not reply for an instant. She +hated to have Rosie ask this question, point-blank +for she did not want to answer it. If +she said exactly what she thought there +might be trouble. And it seemed to her +that she would do almost anything rather +than lose Rosie’s friendship. But Maida +had been taught to believe that the truth is +the most precious thing in the world. And +so she told the truth after a while but it +was with a great effort.</p> + +<p>“No, I wouldn’t,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all right for <span style="font-style: italic">you</span> to say,” +Rosie said firing up. “You don’t have to +go to school. You live the easiest life that +anybody can—just sitting in a chair and +tending shop all day. What do you know +about it, anyway?”</p> + +<p>Maida’s lips quivered. “It is true I +don’t go to school, Rosie,” she said. “But +it isn’t because I don’t want to. I’d give +anything on earth if I could go. I watch +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +that line of children every morning and +afternoon of my life and wish and <span style="font-style: italic">wish</span> +and WISH I was in it. And when the +windows are opened and I hear the singing +and reading, it seems as if I just +couldn’t stand it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” Rosie’s tone was still scornful. +“I don’t believe, even if you did go +to school, that you’d ever do anything bad. +You’d never be anything but a fraid-cat and +teacher’s pet.”</p> + +<p>“I guess I’d be so glad to be there, I’d +do anything the teacher asked,” Maida said +dejectedly. “I do a lot of things that bother +Granny but I guess I never have been a +very naughty girl. You can’t be very +naughty with your leg all crooked under +you.” Maida’s voice had grown bitter. +The children looked at her in amazement. +“But what’s the use of talking to you two,” +she went on. “You could never understand. +I guess Dicky knows what I mean, +though.”</p> + +<p>To their great surprise, Maida put her +head down on the table and cried.</p> + +<p>For a moment the room was perfectly silent. +The fire snapped and Dicky went +over to look at it. He stood with his back +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +turned to the other children but a suspicious +snuffle came from his direction. Arthur +Duncan walked to the window and stood +looking out. Rosie sat still, her eyes downcast, +her little white teeth biting her red +lips. Then suddenly she jumped to her +feet, ran like a whirlwind to Maida’s side. +She put her arms about the bowed figure.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do excuse me, Maida,” she begged. +“I know I’m the worst girl in the world. +Everybody says so and I guess it’s true. +But I do love you and I wouldn’t have hurt +your feelings for anything. I don’t believe +you’d be a fraid-cat or teacher’s pet—I +truly don’t. Please excuse me.”</p> + +<p>Maida wiped her tears away. “Of course +I’ll excuse you! But just the same, Rosie, +I hope you won’t hook jack any more for +someday you’ll be sorry.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to make some candy now,” +Rosie said, adroitly changing the subject. +“I brought some molasses and butter and +everything I need.” She began to bustle +about the stove. Soon they were all laughing +again.</p> + +<p>Maida had never pulled candy before and +she thought it the most enchanting fun in +the world. It was hard to keep at work, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +though, when it was such a temptation to +stop and eat it. But she persevered and succeeded +in pulling hers whiter than anybody’s. +She laughed and talked so busily +that, when she started to put on her things, +all traces of tears had disappeared.</p> + +<p>The rain had stopped. The puddle was +of monster size after so long a storm. They +came out just in time to help Molly fish +Tim out of the water and to prevent Betsy +from giving a stray kitten a bath. Following +Rosie and Arthur, Maida waded through +it from one end to the other—it seemed the +most perilous of adventures to her.</p> + +<p>After that meeting, the W.M.N.T.’s +were busier than they had ever been. Every +other afternoon, and always when it was +bad weather, they worked at Maida’s house. +Granny gave Maida a closet all to herself +and as fast as the things were finished they +were put in boxes and stowed away on its +capacious shelves.</p> + +<p>Arthur whittled and carved industriously. +His work went slower than Dicky’s of +course but, still, it went with remarkable +quickness. Maida often stopped her own +work on the paper things to watch Arthur’s. +It was a constant marvel to her that such +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +big, awkward-looking hands could perform +feats of such delicacy. Her own fingers, +small and delicate as they were, bungled +surprisingly at times.</p> + +<p>“And as for the paste,” Maida said in +disgust to Rosie one day, “you’d think that +I fell into the paste-pot every day. I wash +it off my hands and face. I pick it off of +my clothes and sometimes Granny combs it +out of my hair.”</p> + +<p>Often after dinner, the W.M.N.T.’s +would call in a body on Maida. Then would +follow long hours of such fun that Maida +hated to hear the clock strike nine. Always +there would be molasses-candy making by +the capable Rosie at the kitchen stove and +corn-popping by the vigorous Arthur on the +living-room hearth. After the candy had +cooled and the pop corn had been flooded in +melted butter, they would gather about the +hearth to roast apples and chestnuts and to +listen to the fairy-tales that Maida would +read.</p> + +<p>The one thing which she could do and +they could not was to read with the ease +and expression of a grown person. As +many of her books were in French as in +English and it was the wonder of the other +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +W.M.N.T.’s that she could read a French +story, translating as she went. Her books +were a delight to Arthur and Dicky and she +lent them freely. Rosie liked to listen to +stories but she did not care to read.</p> + +<p>Maida was very happy nowadays. Laura +was the only person in the Court who had +caused her any uneasiness. Since the day +that Laura had made herself so disagreeable, +Maida had avoided her steadily. Best +of all, perhaps, Maida’s health had improved +so much that even her limp was +slowly disappearing.</p> + +<p>In the course of time, the children taught +Maida the secret language of the W.M.N.T.’s. +They could hold long conversations +that were unintelligible to anybody else. +When at first they used it in fun before +Maida, she could not understand a word. +After they had explained it to her, she wondered +that she had ever been puzzled.</p> + +<p>“It’s as easy as anything,” Rosy said. +“You take off the first sound of a word and +put it on the end with an <span style="font-style: italic">ay</span> added to it +like MAN—an-may. BOY—oy-bay. +GIRL—irl-gay. When a word is just one +sound like I or O, or when it begins with +a vowel like EEL or US or OUT, you add +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +<span style="font-style: italic">way</span>, like I—I-way. O—O-way. EEL—eel-way. +US—us-way. OUT—out-way.”</p> + +<p>Thus Maida could say to Rosie:</p> + +<p>“Are-way ou-yay oing-gay o-tay ool-schay +o-tay ay-day?” and mean simply, “Are you +going to school to-day?”</p> + +<p>And sometimes to Maida’s grief, Rosie +would reply roguishly:</p> + +<p>“O-nay I-way am-way oing-gay o-tay ook-hay +ack-jay ith-way Arthur-way.”</p> + +<p>Billy Potter was finally invited to join the +W.M.N.T.’s too. He never missed a +meeting if he could possibly help it.</p> + +<p>“Why do you call Maida, <span style="font-style: normal">‘Petronilla’</span>?” +Dicky asked him curiously one day when +Maida had run home for more paper.</p> + +<p>“Petronilla is the name of a little girl in +a fairy-tale that I read when I was a little +boy,” Billy answered.</p> + +<p>“And was she like Maida?” Arthur +asked.</p> + +<p>“Very.”</p> + +<p>“How?” Rosie inquired.</p> + +<p>“Petronilla had a gold star set in her +forehead by a fairy when she was a baby,” +Billy explained. “It was a magic star. +Nobody but fairies could see it but it was +always there. Anybody who came within +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +the light of Petronilla’s star, no matter how +wicked or hopeless or unhappy he was, was +made better and hopefuller and happier.”</p> + +<p>Nobody spoke for an instant.</p> + +<p>Then, “I guess Maida’s got the star all +right,” Dicky said.</p> + +<p>Billy was very interested in the secret +language. At first when they talked this +gibberish before him, he listened mystified. +But to their great surprise he never asked +a question. They went right on talking as +if he were not present. In an interval of +silence, Billy said softly:</p> + +<p>“I-way onder-way if-way I-way ought-bay +a-way uart-quay of-way ice-way-eam-cray, +ese-thay ildren-chay ould-way eat-way +it-way.”</p> + +<p>For a moment nobody could speak. Then +a deafening, “es-yay!” was shouted at the +top of four pairs of lungs.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>PLAY</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>But although the W.M.N.T.’s worked +very hard, you must not suppose that +they left no time to play. Indeed, the +weather was so fine that it was hard to stay +in the house. The beautiful Indian summer +had come and each new day dawned +more perfect than the last. The trees had +become so gorgeous that it was as if the +streets were lined with burning torches. +Whenever a breeze came, they seemed to +flicker and flame and flare. Maida and +Rosie used to shuffle along the gutters gathering +pocketsful of glossy horse-chestnuts +and handfuls of gorgeous leaves.</p> + +<p>Sometimes it seemed to Maida that she did +not need to play, that there was fun enough +in just being out-of-doors. But she did +play a great deal for she was well enough to +join in all the fun now and it seemed to her +that she never could get enough of any one +game. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<p>She would play house and paper-dolls +and ring-games with the little children in +the morning when the older ones were in +school. She would play jackstones with +the bigger girls in the afternoon. She +would play running games with the crowd +of girls and boys, of whom the W.M.N.T.’s +were the leaders, towards night. Then +sometimes she would grumble to Granny because +the days were so short.</p> + +<p>Of all the games, Hoist-the-Sail was her +favorite. She often served as captain on +her side. But whether she called or awaited +the cry, “Liberty poles are bending—hoist +the sail!” a thrill ran through her that made +her blood dance.</p> + +<p>“It’s no use in talking, Granny,” Maida +said joyfully one day. “My leg is getting +stronger. I jumped twenty jumps to-day +without stopping.”</p> + +<p>After that her progress was rapid. She +learned to jump in the rope with Rosie.</p> + +<p>They were a pretty sight. People passing +often gave them more than one glance—Rosie +so vivid and sparkling, in the scarlet +cape and hat all velvety jet-blacks, satiny +olives and brilliant crimsons—Maida slim, +delicate, fairy-like in her long squirrel-coat +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +and cap, her airy ringlets streaming in the +breeze and the eyes that had once been so +wistful now shining with happiness.</p> + +<p>“Do you know what you look like, +Maida?” Rosie said once. Before Maida +could answer, she went on. “You look like +that little mermaid princess in Anderson’s +fairy tales—the one who had to suffer so +to get legs like mortals.”</p> + +<p>“Do I?” Maida laughed. “Now isn’t it +strange I have always thought that you look +like somebody in a fairy tale, too. You’re +like Rose-Red in <span style="font-style: normal">‘Rose-Red and Snow-White.’</span> +I think,” she added, flushing, for +she was a little afraid that it was not polite +to say things like this, “that you are the +beautifulest girl I ever saw.”</p> + +<p>“Why, that’s just what I think of you,” +Rosie said in surprise.</p> + +<p>“I just love black hair,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>“And I just adore golden hair,” Rosie +said. “Now, isn’t that strange?”</p> + +<p>“I guess,” Maida announced after a moment +of thought, “people like what they +haven’t got.”</p> + +<p>After a while, Rosie taught Maida to jump +in the big rope with a half a dozen children +at once. Maida never tired of this. When +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +she heard the rope swishing through the +air, a kind of excitement came over her. +She was proud to think that she had caught +the trick—that something inside would +warn her when to jump—that she could be +sure that this warning would not come an +instant too soon or too late. The consciousness +of a new strength and a new power +made a different child of her. It made her +eyes sparkle like gray diamonds. It made +her cheeks glow like pink peonies.</p> + +<p>By this time she could spin tops with +the best of them—sometimes she had five +tops going at once. This was a sport of +which the W.M.N.T.’s never tired. They +kept it up long into the twilight. Sometimes +Granny would have to ring the dinner-bell +a half a dozen times before Maida +appeared. Maida did not mean to be disobedient. +She simply did not hear the bell. +Granny’s scoldings for this carelessness +were very gentle—Maida’s face was too radiant +with her triumph in this new skill.</p> + +<p>There was something about Primrose +Court—the rows of trees welded into a yellow +arch high over their heads, the sky +showing through in diamond-shaped glints +of blue, the tiny trim houses and their +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +tinier, trimmer yards, the doves pink-toeing +everywhere, their throats bubbling color as +wonderful as the old Venetian glass in the +Beacon Street house, the children running +and shouting, the very smell of the dust +which their pattering feet threw up—something +in the look of all this made Maida’s +spirits leap.</p> + +<p>“I’m happy, <span style="font-style: italic">happy</span>, HAPPY,” Maida +said one day. The next—Rosie came rushing +into the shop with a frightened face.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Maida,” she panted, “a terrible +thing has happened. Laura Lathrop’s got +diphtheria—they say she’s going to die.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie, how dreadful! Who told +you so?”</p> + +<p>“Annie the cook told Aunt Theresa. Dr. +Ames went there three times yesterday. +Annie says Mrs. Lathrop looks something +awful.”</p> + +<p>“The poor, poor woman,” Granny murmured +compassionately.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m so sorry I was cross to Laura,” +Maida said, conscience-stricken. “Oh, I do +hope she won’t die.”</p> + +<p>“It must be dreadful for Laura,” Rosie +continued, “Harold can’t go near her. Nobody +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +goes into the room but her mother and +the nurse.”</p> + +<p>The news cast a deep gloom over the +Court. The little children—Betsy, Molly +and Tim played as usual for they could not +understand the situation. But the noisy +fun of the older children ceased entirely. +They gathered on the corner and talked in +low voices, watching with dread any movement +in the Lathrop house. For a week +or more Primrose Court was the quietest +spot in the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>“They say she’s sinking,” Rosie said that +first night.</p> + +<p>The thought of it colored Maida’s dreams.</p> + +<p>“She’s got through the night all right,” +Rosie reported in the morning, her face +shining with hope. “And they think she’s +a little better.” But late the next afternoon, +Rosie appeared again, her face dark +with dread, “Laura’s worse again.”</p> + +<p>Two or three days passed. Sometimes +Laura was better. Oftener she was worse. +Dr. Ames’s carriage seemed always to be +driving into the Court.</p> + +<p>“Annie says she’s dying,” Rosie retailed +despairingly. “They don’t think she’ll live +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +through the night. Oh, won’t it be dreadful +to wake up to-morrow and find the crape +on the door.”</p> + +<p>The thought of what she might see in the +morning kept Maida awake a long time that +night. When she arose her first glance was +for the Lathrop door. There was no crape.</p> + +<p>“No better,” Rosie dropped in to say on +her way to school “but,” she added hopefully, +“she’s no worse.”</p> + +<p>Maida watched the Lathrop house all day, +dreading to see the undertaker’s wagon +drive up. But it did not come—not that +day, nor the next, nor the next.</p> + +<p>“They think she’s getting better,” Rosie +reported joyfully one day.</p> + +<p>And gradually Laura did get better. +But it was many days before she was well +enough to sit up.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Lathrop says,” Rosie burst in one +day with an excited face, “that if we all +gather in front of the house to-morrow at +one o’clock, she’ll lift Laura up to the window +so that we can see her. She says Laura +is crazy to see us all.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie, I’m so glad!” Maida exclaimed, +delighted. Seizing each other by +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +the waist, the two little girls danced about +the room.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m going to be so good to Laura +when she gets well,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>“So am I,” Rosie declared with equal +fervor. “The last thing I ever said to her +was that she was ‘a hateful little smarty-cat.’”</p> + +<p>Five minutes before one, the next day, all +the children in Primrose Court gathered on +the lawn in front of Laura’s window. +Maida led Molly by one hand and Tim by +the other. Rosie led Betsy and Delia. +Dorothy Clark held Fluff and Mabel held +Tag. Promptly at one o’clock, Mrs. Lathrop +appeared at the window, carrying a little, +thin, white wisp of a girl, all muffled up +in a big shawl.</p> + +<p>The children broke into shouts of joy. +The boys waved their hats and the girls +their handkerchiefs. Tag barked madly +and Rosie declared afterwards that even +Fluff looked excited. But Maida stood still +with the tears streaming down her cheeks—Laura’s +face looked so tiny, her eyes so big +and sad. From her own experience, Maida +could guess how weak Laura felt. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<p>Laura stayed only an instant at the window. +One feeble wave of her claw-like +hand and she was gone.</p> + +<p>“Annie says Mrs. Lathrop is worn to a +shadow trying to find things to entertain +Laura,” Rosie said one night to Maida and +Billy Potter. “She’s read all her books to +her and played all her games with her and +Laura keeps saying she wished she had +something new.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I do wish we could think of something +to do for her,” Maida said wistfully. +“I know just how she feels. If I could +only think of a new toy—but Laura has +everything. And then the trouble with toys +is that after you’ve played with them once, +there’s no more fun in them. I know what +that is. If we all had telephones, we could +talk to her once in a while. But even that +would tire her, I guess.”</p> + +<p>Billy jumped. “I know what we can do +for Laura,” he said. “I’ll have to have +Mrs. Lathrop’s permission though.” He +seized his hat and made for the door. “I’d +better see her about it to-night.” The door +slammed.</p> + +<p>It had all happened so suddenly that the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +children gazed after him with wide-open +mouths and eyes.</p> + +<p>“What do you suppose it’s going to be, +Maida?” Rosie asked finally.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” Maida answered. “I +haven’t the least idea. But if Billy makes +it, you may be sure it will be wonderful.”</p> + +<p>When Billy came back, they asked him a +hundred questions. But they could not get +a word out of him in regard to the new toy.</p> + +<p>He appeared at the shop early the next +morning with a suit-case full of bundles. +Then followed doings that, for a long time, +were a mystery to everybody. A crowd of +excited children followed him about, asking +him dozens of questions and chattering +frantically among themselves.</p> + +<p>First, he opened one of the bundles—out +dropped eight little pulleys. Second, he +went up into Maida’s bedroom and fastened +one of the little pulleys on the sill outside +her window. Third, he did the same thing +in Rosie’s house, in Arthur’s and in Dicky’s. +Fourth, he fastened four of the little pulleys +at the playroom window in the Lathrop +house.</p> + +<p>“Oh, what is he doing?” “I can’t think +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +of anything.” “Oh, I wish he’d tell us,” +came from the children who watched these +manœuvres from the street.</p> + +<p>Fifth, Billy opened another bundle—this +time, out came four coils of a thin rope.</p> + +<p>“I know now,” Arthur called up to him, +“but I won’t tell.”</p> + +<p>Billy grinned.</p> + +<p>And, sure enough, “You watch him,” was +all Arthur would say to the entreaties of +his friends.</p> + +<p>Sixth, Billy ran a double line of rope +between Maida’s and Laura’s window, a +second between Rosie’s and Laura’s, a third +between Arthur’s and Laura’s, a fourth between +Dicky’s and Laura’s.</p> + +<p>Last, Billy opened another bundle. Out +dropped four square tin boxes, each with a +cover and a handle.</p> + +<p>“I’ve guessed it! I’ve guessed it!” +Maida and Rosie screamed together. “It’s +a telephone.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the answer,” Billy confessed. +He went from house to house fastening a +box to the lower rope.</p> + +<p>“Now when you want to say anything to +Laura,” he said on his return, “just write +a note, put it in the box, pull on the upper +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +string and it will sail over to her window. +Suppose you all run home and write something +now. I’ll go over to Laura’s to see +how it works.”</p> + +<p>The children scattered. In a few moments, +four excited little faces appeared at +as many windows. The telephone worked +perfectly. Billy handed Mrs. Lathrop the +notes to deliver to Laura.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Potter,” Mrs. Lathrop said suddenly, +“there’s a matter that I wished to +speak to you about. That little Flynn girl +has lived in the family of Mr. Jerome +Westabrook, hasn’t she?”</p> + +<p>Billy’s eyes “skrinkled up.” “Yes, Mrs. +Lathrop,” he admitted, “she lived in the +Westabrook family for several years.”</p> + +<p>“So I guessed,” Mrs. Lathrop said. +“She’s a very sweet little girl,” she went +on earnestly for she had been touched by +the sight of Maida’s grief the day that she +held Laura to the window. “I hope Mr. +Westabrook’s own little girl is as sweet.”</p> + +<p>“She is, Mrs. Lathrop, I assure you she +is,” Billy said gravely.</p> + +<p>“What is the name of the Westabrook +child?”</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth Fairfax Westabrook.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What is she like?”</p> + +<p>“She’s a good deal like Maida,” Billy +said, his eyes beginning to “skrinkle up” +again. “They could easily pass for sisters.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose that’s why the Westabrooks +have been so good to the little Flynn girl,” +Mrs. Lathrop went on, “for they certainly +are very good to her. It is quite evident +that Maida’s clothes belonged once to the +little Westabrook girl.”</p> + +<p>“You are quite right, Mrs. Lathrop. +They were made for the little Westabrook +girl.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lathrop always declared afterwards +that it was the telephone that really cured +Laura. Certainly, it proved to be the most +exciting of toys to the little invalid. There +was always something waiting for her when +she waked up in the morning and the tin +boxes kept bobbing from window to window +until long after dark. The girls kept her +informed of what was going on in the neighborhood +and the boys sent her jokes and +conundrums and puzzle pictures cut from +the newspapers. Gifts came to her at all +hours. Sometimes it would be a bit of +wood-carving—a grotesque face, perhaps—that +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +Arthur had done. Sometimes it was +a bit of Dicky’s pretty paper-work. Rosie +sent her specimens of her cooking from +candy to hot roasted potatoes, and Maida +sent her daily translations of an exciting +fairy tale which she was reading in French +for the first time.</p> + +<p>Pretty soon Laura was well enough to answer +the notes herself. She wrote each of +her correspondents a long, grateful and affectionate +letter. By and by, she was able +to sit in a chair at the window and watch +the games. The children remembered every +few moments to look and wave to her +and she always waved back. At last came +the morning when a very thin, pale Laura +was wheeled out into the sunshine. After +that she grew well by leaps and bounds. In +a day or two, she could stand in the ring-games +with the little children. By the end +of a week, she seemed quite herself.</p> + +<p>One morning every child in Primrose +Court received a letter in the mail. It was +written on gay-tinted paper with a pretty +picture at the top. It read:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 3.00em; margin-left: 4.00em; margin-top: 2.00em; margin-right: 4.00em"> +“You are cordially invited to a Halloween +party to be given by Miss Laura +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +Lathrop at 29 Primrose Court on Saturday +evening, October 31, at a half after seven.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>But as Maida ceased gradually to worry +about Laura, she began to be troubled about +Rosie. For Rosie was not the same child. +Much of the time she was silent, moody and +listless.</p> + +<p>One afternoon she came over to the shop, +bringing the Clark twins with her. For awhile +she and Maida played “house” with +the little girls. Suddenly, Rosie tired of +this game and sent the children home. +Then for a time, she frolicked with Fluff +while Maida read aloud. As suddenly as +she had stopped playing “house” she interrupted +Maida.</p> + +<p>“Don’t read any more,” she commanded, +“I want to talk with you.”</p> + +<p>Maida had felt the whole afternoon that +there was something on Rosie’s mind for +whenever the scowl came between Rosie’s +eyebrows, it meant trouble. Maida closed +her book and sat waiting.</p> + +<p>“Maida,” Rosie asked, “do you remember +your mother?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” Maida answered, “perfectly. +She was very beautiful. I could not forget +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +her any more than a wonderful picture. +She used to come and kiss me every night +before she went to dinner with papa. She +always smelled so sweet—whenever I see +any flowers, I think of her. And she wore +such beautiful dresses and jewels. She +loved sparkly things, I guess—sometimes +she looked like a fairy queen. Once she +had a new lace gown all made of roses of +lace and she had a diamond fastened in +every rose to make it look like dew. When +her hair was down, it came to her knees. +She let me brush it sometimes with her gold +brush.”</p> + +<p>“A gold brush,” Rosie said in an awed +tone.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it was gold with her initials in diamonds +on it. Papa gave her a whole set one +birthday.”</p> + +<p>“How old were you when she died?” +Rosie asked after a pause in which her +scowl grew deeper.</p> + +<p>“Eight.”</p> + +<p>“What did she die of?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” Maida answered. “You +see I was so little that I didn’t understand +about dying. I had never heard of it. +They told me one day that my mother had +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +gone away. I used to ask every day when +she was coming back and they’d say <span style="font-style: normal">‘next +week’</span> and <span style="font-style: normal">‘next week’</span> and <span style="font-style: normal">‘next week’</span> +until one day I got so impatient that I cried. +Then they told me that my mother was living +far away in a beautiful country and she +would never come back. They said that I +must not cry for she still loved me and was +always watching over me. It was a great +comfort to know that and of course I never +cried after that for fear of worrying her. +But at first it was very lonely. Why, +Rosie—” She stopped terrified. “What’s +the matter?”</p> + +<p>Rosie had thrown herself on the couch, +and was crying bitterly. “Oh, Maida,” she +sobbed, “that’s exactly what they say to me +when I ask them—‘next week’ and ‘next +week’ and ‘next week’ until I’m sick of it. +My mother is dead and I know it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie!” Maida protested. “Oh no, +no, no—your mother is not dead. I can’t +believe it. I won’t believe it.”</p> + +<p>“She is,” Rosie persisted. “I know she +is. Oh, what shall I do? Think how +naughty I was! What shall I do?” She +sobbed so convulsively that Maida was +frightened. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Listen, Rosie,” she said. “You don’t +<span style="font-style: italic">know</span> your mother is dead. And I for one +don’t believe that she is.”</p> + +<p>“But they said the same thing to you,” +Rosie protested passionately.</p> + +<p>“I think it was because I was sick,” +Maida said after a moment in which she +thought the matter out. “They were afraid +that I might die if they told me the truth. +But whether your mother is alive or dead, +the only way you can make up for being +naughty is to be as good to your Aunt +Theresa as you can. Oh, Rosie, please go +to school every day.”</p> + +<p>“Do you suppose I could ever hook jack +again?” Rosie asked bitterly. She dried +her eyes. “I guess I’ll go home now,” she +said, “and see if I can help Aunt Theresa +with the supper. And I’m going to get her +to teach me how to cook everything so that +I can help mother—if she ever comes +home.”</p> + +<p>The next day Rosie came into the shop +with the happiest look that she had worn +for a long time.</p> + +<p>“I peeled the potatoes for Aunt Theresa, +last night,” she announced, “and set the +table and wiped the dishes. She was real +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +surprised. She asked me what had got into +me?”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad,” Maida approved.</p> + +<p>“I asked her when mother was coming +back and she said the same thing, ‘Next +week, I think.’” Rosie’s lip quivered.</p> + +<p>“I think she’ll come back, Rosie,” Maida +insisted. “And now let’s not talk any more +about it. Let’s come out to play.”</p> + +<p>Mindful of her own lecture on obedience +to Rosie, Maida skipped home the first +time Granny rang the bell.</p> + +<p>Granny met her at the door. Her eyes +were shining with mischief. “You’ve got +a visitor,” she said. Maida could see that +she was trying to keep her lips prim at the +corners. She wondered who it was. Could +it be—</p> + +<p>She ran into the living-room. Her father +jumped up from the easy-chair to meet +her.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, well, Miss Rosy-Cheeks. No +need to ask how you are!” he said kissing +her.</p> + +<p>“Oh papa, papa, I never was so happy in +all my life. If you could only be here with +me all the time, there wouldn’t be another +thing in the world that I wanted. Don’t +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +you think you could give up Wall Street +and come to live in this Court? You might +open a shop too. Papa, I know you’d make +a good shopkeeper although it isn’t so easy +as a lot of people think. But I’d teach you +all I know—and, then, it’s such fun. You +could have a big shop for I know just how +you like big things—just as I like little +ones.”</p> + +<p>“Buffalo” Westabrook laughed. “I may +have to come to it yet but it doesn’t look +like it this moment. My gracious, Posie, +how you have improved! I never would +know you for the same child. Where did +you get those dimples? I never saw them +in your face before. Your mother had +them, though.”</p> + +<p>The shadow, that the mention of her +mother’s name always brought, darkened +his face. “How you are growing to look +like her!” he said.</p> + +<p>Maida knew that she must not let him +stay sad. “Dimples!” she squealed. “Really, +papa?” She ran over to the mirror, +climbed up on a chair and peeked in. Her +face fell. “I don’t see any,” she said +mournfully.</p> + +<p>“And you’re losing your limp,” Mr. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +Westabrook said. Then catching sight of +her woe-begone face, he laughed. “That’s +because you’ve stopped smiling, you little +goose,” he said. “Grin and you’ll see +them.”</p> + +<p>Obedient, Maida grinned so hard that it +hurt. But the grin softened to a smile of +perfect happiness. For, sure enough, +pricking through the round of her soft, pink +cheeks, were a pair of tiny hollows.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>HALLOWEEN</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>Halloween fell on Saturday that +year. That made Friday a very busy +time for Maida and the other members of +the W.M.N.T. In the afternoon, they +all worked like beavers making jack-o’-lanterns +of the dozen pumpkins that Granny +had ordered. Maida and Rosie and Dicky +hollowed and scraped them. Arthur did +all the hard work—the cutting out of the +features, the putting-in of candle-holders. +These pumpkin lanterns were for decoration. +But Maida had ordered many paper +jack-o’-lanterns for sale. The W.M.N.T.’s +spent the evening rearranging the shop. +Maida went to bed so tired that she could +hardly drag one foot after the other. +Granny had to undress her.</p> + +<p>But when the school-children came flocking +in the next morning, she felt more than +repaid for her work. The shop resounded +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +with the “Oh mys,” and “Oh looks,” of +their surprise and delight.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the room seemed full of twinkling +yellow faces. Lines of them grinned in the +doorway. Rows of them smirked from the +shelves. A frieze, close-set as peas in a pod, +grimaced from the molding. The jolly-looking +pumpkin jacks, that Arthur had +made, were piled in a pyramid in the window. +The biggest of them all—“he +looks just like the man in the moon,” Rosie +said—smiled benignantly at the passers-by +from the top of the heap. Standing about +everywhere among the lanterns were groups +of little paper brownies, their tiny heads +turned upwards as if, in the greatest astonishment, +they were examining these monster +beings.</p> + +<p>The jack-o’-lanterns sold like hot cakes. +As for the brownies, “Granny, you’d think +they were marching off the shelves!” Maida +said. By dark, she was diving breathlessly +into her surplus stock. At the first touch +of twilight, she lighted every lantern left +in the place. Five minutes afterwards, a +crowd of children had gathered to gaze at +the flaming faces in the window. Even the +grown-ups stopped to admire the effect. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<p>More customers came and more—a great +many children whom Maida had never seen +before. By six o’clock, she had sold out +her entire stock. When she sat down to +dinner that night, she was a very happy +little girl.</p> + +<p>“This is the best day I’ve had since I +opened the shop,” she said contentedly. +She was not tired, though. “I feel just +like going to a party to-night. Granny, can +I wear my prettiest Roman sash?”</p> + +<p>“You can wear annyt’ing you want, my +lamb,” Granny said, “for ’tis the good, busy +little choild you’ve been this day.”</p> + +<p>Granny dressed her according to Maida’s +choice, in white. A very, simple, soft little +frock, it was, with many tiny tucks made by +hand and many insertions of a beautiful, +fine lace. Maida chose to wear with it pale +blue silk stockings and slippers, a sash of +blue, striped in pink and white, a string of +pink Venetian beads.</p> + +<p>“Now, Granny, I’ll read until the children +call for me,” she suggested, “so I +won’t rumple my dress.”</p> + +<p>But she was too excited to read. She sat +for a long time at the window, just looking +out. Presently the jack-o’-lanterns, lighted +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +now, began to make blobs of gold in the +furry darkness of the street. She could not +at first make out who held them. It was +strange to watch the fiery, grinning heads, +flying, bodiless, from place to place. But +she identified the lanterns in the court by +the houses from which they emerged. The +three small ones on the end at the left meant +Dicky and Molly and Tim. Two big ones, +mounted on sticks, came from across the +way—Rosie and Arthur, of course. Two, +just alike, trotting side by side betrayed +the Clark twins. A baby-lantern, swinging +close to the ground—that could be nobody +but Betsy.</p> + +<p>The crowd in the Court began to march +towards the shop. For an instant, Maida +watched the spots of brilliant color dancing +in her direction. Then she slipped into her +coat, and seized her own lantern. When +she came outside, the sidewalk seemed +crowded with grotesque faces, all laughing +at her.</p> + +<p>“Just think,” she said, “I have never +been to a Halloween party in my life.”</p> + +<p>“You are the queerest thing, Maida,” +Rosie said in perplexity. “You’ve been to +Europe. You can talk French and Italian. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +And yet, you’ve never been to a Halloween +party. Did you ever hang May-baskets?”</p> + +<p>Maida shook her head.</p> + +<p>“You wait until next May,” Rosie prophesied +gleefully.</p> + +<p>The crowd crossed over into the Court +Two motionless, yellow faces, grinning at +them from the Lathrop steps, showed that +Laura and Harold had come out to meet +them. On the lawn they broke into an impromptu +game of tag which the jack-o’-lanterns +seemed to enjoy as much as the +children: certainly, they whizzed from +place to place as quickly and, certainly, +they smiled as hard.</p> + +<p>The game ended, they left their lanterns +on the piazza and trooped into the house.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to play the first games in the +kitchen,” Laura announced after the coats +and hats had come off and Mrs. Lathrop +had greeted them all.</p> + +<p>Maida wondered what sort of party it was +that was held in the kitchen but she asked +no questions. Almost bursting with curiosity, +she joined the long line marching to +the back of the house.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the kitchen floor stood +a tub of water with apples floating in it. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Bobbing for apples!” the children exclaimed. +“Oh, that’s the greatest fun of all. +Did you ever bob for apples, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Let Maida try it first, then,” Laura said. +“It’s very easy, Maida,” she went on with +twinkling eyes. “All you have to do is to +kneel on the floor, clasp your hands behind +you, and pick out one of the apples with +your teeth. You’ll each be allowed three +minutes.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I can get a half a dozen in three +minutes, I guess,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>Laura tied a big apron around Maida’s +waist and stood, watch in hand. The children +gathered in a circle about the tub. +Maida knelt on the floor, clasped her hands +behind her and reached with a wide-open +mouth for the nearest apple. But at the +first touch of her lips, the apple bobbed +away. She reached for another. That +bobbed away, too. Another and another +and another—they all bobbed clean out of +her reach, no matter how delicately she +touched them. That method was unsuccessful.</p> + +<p>“One minute,” called Laura.</p> + +<p>Maida could hear the children giggling at +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +her. She tried another scheme, making vicious +little dabs at the apples. Her beads +and her hair-ribbon and one of her long +curls dipped into the water. But she only +succeeded in sending the apples spinning +across the tub.</p> + +<p>“Two minutes!” called Laura.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you get those half a dozen,” +the children jeered. “You know you said +it was so easy.”</p> + +<p>Maida giggled too. But inwardly, she +made up her mind that she would get one +of those apples if she dipped her whole +head into the tub. At last a brilliant idea +occurred to her. Using her chin as a guide, +she poked a big rosy apple over against the +side of the tub. Wedging it there +against another big apple, she held it +tight. Then she dropped her head a little, +gave a sudden big bite and arose amidst applause, +with the apple secure between her +teeth.</p> + +<p>After that she had the fun of watching +the other children. The older ones were +adepts. In three minutes, Rosie secured +four, Dicky five and Arthur six. Rosie did +not get a drop of water on her but the boys +emerged with dripping heads. The little +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +children were not very successful but they +were more fun. Molly swallowed so much +water that she choked and had to be patted +on the back. Betsy after a few snaps of +her little, rosebud mouth, seized one of the +apples with her hand, sat down on the floor +and calmly ate it. But the climax was +reached when Tim Doyle suddenly lurched +forward and fell headlong into the tub.</p> + +<p>“I knew he’d fall in,” Molly said in a +matter-of-fact voice. “He always falls into +everything. I brought a dry set of clothes +for him. Come, Tim!”</p> + +<p>At this announcement, everybody shrieked. +Molly disappeared with Tim in the direction +of Laura’s bedroom. When she reappeared, +sure enough, Tim had a dry suit +on.</p> + +<p>Next Laura ordered them to sit about +the kitchen-table. She gave each child an +apple and a knife and directed him to pare +the apple without breaking the peel. If +you think that is an easy thing to do, try it. +It seemed to Maida that she never would accomplish +it. She spoiled three apples before +she succeeded.</p> + +<p>“Now take your apple-paring and form +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +in line across the kitchen-floor,” Laura commanded.</p> + +<p>The flock scampered to obey her.</p> + +<p>“Now when I say ‘Three!’” she continued, +“throw the parings back over your +shoulder to the floor. If the paring makes +a letter, it will be the initial of your future +husband or wife. One! <span style="font-style: italic">Two</span>! THREE!”</p> + +<p>A dozen apple-parings flew to the floor. +Everybody raced across the room to examine +the results.</p> + +<p>“Mine is B,” Dicky said.</p> + +<p>“And mine’s an O,” Rosie declared, “as +plain as anything. What’s yours, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“It’s an X,” Maida answered in great +perplexity. “I don’t believe that there are +any names beginning with X except Xenophon +and Xerxes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, mine’s as bad,” Laura laughed, +“it’s a Z. I guess I’ll be Mrs. Zero.”</p> + +<p>“That’s nothing,” Arthur laughed, +“mine’s an &—I can’t marry anybody +named ——‘and.’”</p> + +<p>“Well, if that isn’t successful,” Laura +said, “there’s another way of finding out +who your husband or wife’s going to be. +You must walk down the cellar-stairs backwards +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +with a candle in one hand and a mirror +in the other. You must look in the mirror +all the time and, when you get to the +foot of the stairs, you will see, reflected in +it, the face of your husband or wife.”</p> + +<p>This did not interest the little children +but the big ones were wild to try it.</p> + +<p>“Gracious, doesn’t it sound scary?” +Rosie said, her great eyes snapping. “I love +a game that’s kind of spooky, don’t you, +Maida?”</p> + +<p>Maida did not answer. She was watching +Harold who was sneaking out of the +room very quietly from a door at the side.</p> + +<p>“All right, then, Rosie,” Laura caught +her up, “you can go first.”</p> + +<p>The children all crowded over to the door +leading to the cellar. The stairs were as +dark as pitch. Rosie took the mirror and +the candle that Laura handed her and +slipped through the opening. The little audience +listened breathless.</p> + +<p>They heard Rosie stumble awkwardly +down the stairs, heard her pause at the +foot. Next came a moment of silence, of +waiting as tense above as below. Then +came a burst of Rosie’s jolly laughter. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +She came running up to them, her cheeks +like roses, her eyes like stars.</p> + +<p>They crowded around her. “What did +you see?” “Tell us about it?” they clamored.</p> + +<p>Rosie shook her head. “No, no, no,” she +maintained, “I’m not going to tell you what +I saw until you’ve been down yourself.”</p> + +<p>It was Arthur’s turn next. They listened +again. The same thing happened—awkward +stumbling down the stairs, a +pause, then a roar of laughter.</p> + +<p>“Oh what did you see?” they implored +when he reappeared.</p> + +<p>“Try it yourself!” he advised. “I’m not +going to tell.”</p> + +<p>Dicky went next. Again they all listened +and to the same mysterious doings. +Dicky came back smiling but, like the +others, he refused to describe his experiences.</p> + +<p>Now it was Maida’s turn. She took the +candle and the mirror from Dicky and +plunged into the shivery darkness of the +stairs. It was doubly difficult for her to go +down backwards because of her lameness. +But she finally arrived at the bottom and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +stood there expectantly. It seemed a long +time before anything happened. Suddenly, +she felt something stir back of her. A +lighted jack-o’-lantern came from between +the folds of a curtain which hung from the +ceiling. It grinned over her shoulder at +her face in the mirror.</p> + +<p>Maida burst into a shriek of laughter and +scrambled upstairs. “I’m going to marry +a jack-o’-lantern,” she said. “My name’s +going to be Mrs. Jack Pumpkin.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to marry Laura’s sailor-doll,” +Rosie confessed. “My name is Mrs. Yankee +Doodle.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to marry Laura’s big doll, +Queenie,” Arthur admitted.</p> + +<p>“And I’m going to marry Harold’s Teddy-bear,” +Dicky said.</p> + +<p>After that they blew soap-bubbles and +roasted apples and chestnuts, popped corn +and pulled candy at the great fireplace in +the playroom. And at Maida’s request, +just before they left, Laura danced for +them.</p> + +<p>“Will you help me to get on my costume, +Maida?” Laura asked.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” Maida said, wondering.</p> + +<p>“I asked you to come down here, Maida,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +Laura said when the two little girls were +alone, “because I wanted to tell you that I +am sorry for the way I treated you just before +I got diphtheria. I told my mother +about it and she said I did those things because +I was coming down sick. She said +that people are always fretty and cross +when they’re not well. But I don’t think it +was all that. I guess I did it on purpose +just to be disagreeable. But I hope you +will excuse me.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I will, Laura,” Maida said +heartily. “And I hope you will forgive me +for going so long without speaking to you. +But you see I heard,” she stopped and hesitated, +“things,” she ended lamely.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know what you heard. I said +those things about you to the W.M.N.T.’s +so that they’d get back to you. I wanted +to hurt your feelings.” Laura in her turn +stopped and hesitated for an instant. “I +was jealous,” she finally confessed in a +burst. “But I want you to understand +this, Maida. I didn’t believe those horrid +things myself. I always have a feeling inside +when people are telling lies and I +didn’t have that feeling when you were +talking to me. I knew you were telling the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +truth. And all the time while I was getting +well, I felt so dreadfully about it that I +knew I never would be happy again unless +I told you so.”</p> + +<p>“I did feel bad when I heard those +things,” Maida said, “but of course I forgot +about them when Rosie told me you +were ill. Let’s forget all about it again.”</p> + +<p>But Maida told the W.M.N.T.’s something +of her talk with Laura and the result +was an invitation to Laura to join the +club. It was accepted gratefully.</p> + +<p>The next month went by on wings. It +was a busy month although in a way, it +was an uneventful one. The weather kept +clear and fine. Little rain fell but, on the +other hand, to the great disappointment of +the little people of Primrose Court, there +was no snow. Maida saw nothing of her +father for business troubles kept him in +New York. He wrote constantly to her +and she wrote as faithfully to him. Letters +could not quite fill the gap that his absence +made. Perhaps Billy suspected +Maida’s secret loneliness for he came +oftener and oftener to see her.</p> + +<p>One night the W.M.N.T.’s begged so +hard for a story that he finally began one +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +called “The Crystal Ball.” A wonderful +thing about it was that it was half-game +and half-story. Most wonderful of all, it +went on from night to night and never +showed any signs of coming to an end. +But in order to play this game-story, there +were two or three conditions to which you +absolutely must submit. For instance, it +must always be played in the dark. And +first, everybody must shut his eyes tight. +Billy would say in a deep voice, “Abracadabra!” +and, presto, there they all were, +Maida, Rosie, Laura, Billy, Arthur and +Dicky inside the crystal ball. What people +lived there and what things happened to +them can not be told here. But after an +hour or more, Billy’s deepest voice would +boom, “Abracadabra!” again and, presto, +there they all were again, back in the cheerful +living-room.</p> + +<p>Maida hoped against hope that her father +would come to spend Thanksgiving +with her but that, he wrote finally, was impossible. +Billy came, however, and they +three enjoyed one of Granny’s delicious +turkey dinners.</p> + +<p>“I hoped that I would have found your +daughter Annie by this time, Granny,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +Billy said. “I ask every Irishman I meet +if he came from Aldigarey, County Sligo +or if he knows anybody who did, or if he’s +ever met a pretty Irish girl by the name of +Annie Flynn. But I’ll find her yet—you’ll +see.”</p> + +<p>“I hope so, Misther Billy,” Granny said +respectfully. But Maida thought her voice +sounded as if she had no great hope.</p> + +<p>Dicky still continued to come for his +reading-lessons, although Maida could see +that, in a month or two, he would not need +a teacher. The quiet, studious, pale little +boy had become a great favorite with +Granny Flynn.</p> + +<p>“Sure an’ Oi must be after getting over +to see the poor lad’s mother some noight,” +she said. “’Tis a noice woman she must be +wid such a pretty-behaved little lad.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, she is, Granny,” Maida said earnestly. +“I’ve been there once or twice when +Mrs. Dore came home early. And she’s +just the nicest lady and so fond of Dicky +and the baby.”</p> + +<p>But Granny was old and very easily tired +and, so, though her intentions were of the +best, she did not make this call.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, after Thanksgiving, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +Maida ran over to Dicky’s to borrow some +pink tissue paper. She knocked gently. +Nobody answered. But from the room +came the sound of sobbing. Maida listened. +It was Dicky’s voice. At first she +did not know what to do. Finally, she +opened the door and peeped in. Dicky was +sitting all crumpled up, his head resting on +the table.</p> + +<p>“Oh, what is the matter, Dicky?” Maida +asked.</p> + +<p>Dicky jumped. He raised his head and +looked at her. His face was swollen with +crying, his eyes red and heavy. For a moment +he could not speak. Maida could see +that he was ashamed of being caught in +tears, that he was trying hard to control +himself.</p> + +<p>“It’s something I heard,” he replied at +last.</p> + +<p>“What?” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“Last night after I got to bed, Doc +O’Brien came here to get his bill paid. +Mother thought I was asleep and asked him +a whole lot of questions. He told her that +I wasn’t any better and I never would be +any better. He said that I’d be a cripple +for the rest of my life.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>In spite of all his efforts, Dicky’s voice +broke into a sob.</p> + +<p>“Oh Dicky, Dicky,” Maida said. Better +than anybody else in the world, Maida felt +that she could understand, could sympathize. +“Oh, Dicky, how sorry I am!”</p> + +<p>“I can’t bear it,” Dicky said.</p> + +<p>He put his head down on the table and +began to sob. “I can’t bear it,” he said. +“Why, I thought when I grew up to be a +man, I was going to take care of mother +and Delia. Instead of that, they’ll be taking +care of me. What can a cripple do? +Once I read about a crippled newsboy. Do +you suppose I could sell papers?” he asked +with a gleam of hope.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure you could,” Maida said heartily, +“and a great many other things. But +it may not be as bad as you think, Dicky. +Dr. O’Brien may be mistaken. You know +something was wrong with me when I was +born and I did not begin to walk until a +year ago. My father has taken me to so +many doctors that I’m sure he could not +remember half their names. But they all +said the same thing—that I never would +walk like other children. Then a very +great physician—Dr. Greinschmidt—came +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +from away across the sea, from Germany. +He said he could cure me and he did. I +had to be operated on and—oh—I suffered +dreadfully. But you see that I’m all well +now. I’m even losing my limp. Now, I +believe that Doctor Greinschmidt can cure +you. The next time my father comes home +I’m going to ask him.”</p> + +<p>Dicky had stopped crying. He was +drinking down everything that she said. +“Is he still here—that doctor?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” Maida admitted sorrowfully. +“But there must be doctors as good as he +somewhere. But don’t you worry about it +at all, Dicky. You wait until my father +sees you—he always gets everything made +right.”</p> + +<p>“When’s your father coming home?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t quite know—but I look for him +any time now.”</p> + +<p>Dicky started to set the table. “I guess +I wouldn’t have cried,” he said after a +while, “if I could have cried last night when +I first heard it. But of course I couldn’t +let mother or Doc O’Brien know that I’d +heard them—it would make them feel bad. +I don’t want my mother ever to know that +I know it.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>After that, Maida redoubled her efforts +to be nice to Dicky. She cudgeled her +brains too for new decorative schemes for +his paper-work. She asked Billy Potter to +bring a whole bag of her books from the +Beacon Street house and she lent them to +Dicky, a half dozen at a time.</p> + +<p>Indeed, they were a very busy quartette—the +W.M.N.T.’s. Rosie went to school +every day. She climbed out of her window +no more at night. She seemed to prefer +helping Maida in the shop to anything else. +Arthur Duncan was equally industrious. +With no Rosie to play hookey with, he, too, +was driven to attending school regularly. +His leisure hours were devoted to his +whittling and wood-carving. He was always +doing kind things for Maida and +Granny, bringing up the coal, emptying the +ashes, running errands.</p> + +<p>And so November passed into December.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>THE FIRST SNOW</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>“Look out the window, my lamb,” +Granny called one morning early in +December. Maida opened her eyes, jumped +obediently out of bed and pattered across +the room. There, she gave a scream of delight, +jumping up and down and clapping +her hands.</p> + +<p>“Snow! Oh goody, goody, goody! Snow +at last!”</p> + +<p>It looked as if the whole world had been +wrapped in a blanket of the whitest, fleeciest, +shiningest wool. Sidewalks, streets, +crossings were all leveled to one smoothness. +The fences were so muffled that they +had swelled to twice their size. The houses +wore trim, pointy caps on their gables. +The high bushes in the yard hung to the +very ground. The low ones had become +mounds. The trees looked as if they had +been packed in cotton-wool and put away +for the winter. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And the lovely part of it is, it’s still +snowing,” Maida exclaimed blissfully.</p> + +<p>“Glory be, it’ull be a blizzard before +we’re t’rough wid ut,” Granny said and +shivered.</p> + +<p>Maida dressed in the greatest excitement. +Few children came in to make purchases +that morning and the lines pouring into +the schoolhouse were very shivery and +much shorter than usual. At a quarter to +twelve, the one-session bell rang. When +the children came out of school at one, the +snow was whirling down thicker and faster +than in the morning. A high wind came +up and piled it in the most unexpected +places. Trade stopped entirely in the shop. +No mother would let her children brave so +terrific a storm.</p> + +<p>It snowed that night and all the next +morning. The second day fewer children +went to school than on the first. But at +two o’clock when the sun burst through the +gray sky, the children swarmed the streets. +Shovels and brooms began to appear, snow-balls +to fly, sleigh-bells to tinkle.</p> + +<p>Rosie came dashing into the shop in the +midst of this burst of excitement. “I’ve +shoveled our sidewalk,” she announced triumphantly. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +“Is anything wrong with me? +Everybody’s staring at me.”</p> + +<p>Maida stared too. Rosie’s scarlet cape +was dotted with snow, her scarlet hat was +white with it. Great flakes had caught in +her long black hair, had starred her soft +brows—they hung from her very eyelashes. +Her cheeks and lips were the color of coral +and her eyes like great velvety moons.</p> + +<p>“You look in the glass and see what +they’re staring at,” Maida said slyly. +Rosie went to the mirror.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see anything the matter.”</p> + +<p>“It’s because you look so pretty, goose!” +Maida exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Rosie always blushed and looked ashamed +if anybody alluded to her prettiness. Now +she leaped to Maida’s side and pretended +to beat her.</p> + +<p>“Stop that!” a voice called. Startled, +the little girls looked up. Billy stood in the +doorway. “I’ve come over to make a snow-house,” +he explained.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy, what things you do think of!” +Maida exclaimed. “Wait till I get Arthur +and Dicky!”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t get many more in here, could +we?” Billy commented when the five had +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +assembled in the “child’s size” yard. “I +don’t know that we could stow away another +shovel. Now, first of all, you’re to +pile all the snow in the yard into that corner.”</p> + +<p>Everybody went to work. But Billy and +Arthur moved so quickly with their big +shovels that Maida and Rosie and Dicky did +nothing but hop about them. Almost before +they realized it, the snow-pile reached +to the top of the fence.</p> + +<p>“Pack it down hard,” Billy commanded, +“as hard as you can make it.”</p> + +<p>Everybody scrambled to obey. For a +few moments the sound of shovels beating +on the snow drowned their talk.</p> + +<p>“That will do for that,” Billy commanded +suddenly. His little force stopped, +breathless and red-cheeked. “Now I’m going +to dig out the room. I guess I’ll have +to do this. If you’re not careful enough, +the roof will cave in. Then it’s all got to +be done again.”</p> + +<p>Working very slowly, he began to hollow +out the structure. After the hole had +grown big enough, he crawled into it. But +in spite of his own warning, he must have +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +been too energetic in his movements. Suddenly +the roof came down on his head.</p> + +<p>Billy was on his feet in an instant, shaking +the snow off as a dog shakes off water.</p> + +<p>“Why, Billy, you look like a snow-man,” +Maida laughed.</p> + +<p>“I feel like one,” Billy said, wiping the +snow from his eyes and from under his collar. +“But don’t be discouraged, my hearties, +up with it again. I’ll be more careful +the next time.”</p> + +<p>They went at it again with increased interest, +heaping up a mound of snow bigger +than before, beating it until it was as hard +as a brick, hollowing out inside a chamber +big enough for three of them to occupy at +once. But Billy gave them no time to enjoy +their new dwelling.</p> + +<p>“Run into the house,” was his next order, +“and bring out all the water you can +carry.”</p> + +<p>There was a wild scramble to see which +would get to the sink first but in a few moments, +an orderly file emerged from the +house, Arthur with a bucket, Dicky with a +basin, Rosie with the dish-pan, Maida with +a dipper. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now I’m going to pour water over the +house,” Billy explained. “You see if it +freezes now it will last longer.” Very +carefully, he sprayed it on the sides and +roof, dashing it upwards on the inside +walls:</p> + +<p>“We might as well make it look pretty +while we’re about it,” Billy continued. +“You children get to work and make a lot +of snow-balls the size of an orange and just +as round as you can turn them out.”</p> + +<p>This was easy work. Before Billy could +say, “Jack Robinson!” four pairs of eager +hands had accumulated snow-balls enough +for a sham battle. In the meantime, Billy +had decorated the doorway with two tall, +round pillars. He added a pointed roof to +the house and trimmed it with snow-balls, +all along the edge.</p> + +<p>“Now I guess we’d better have a snow-man +to live in this mansion while we’re +about it,” Billy suggested briskly. “Each +of you roll up an arm or a leg while I make +the body.”</p> + +<p>Billy placed the legs in the corner opposite +the snow-house. He lifted on to +them the big round body which he himself +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +had rolled. Putting the arms on was not +so easy. He worked for a long time before +he found the angle at which they would +stick.</p> + +<p>Everybody took a hand at the head. +Maida contributed some dulse for the hair, +slitting it into ribbons, which she stuck on +with glue. Rosie found a broken clothes-pin +for the nose. The round, smooth coals +that Dicky discovered in the coal-hod made +a pair of expressive black eyes. Arthur cut +two sets of teeth from orange peel and inserted +them in the gash that was the mouth. +When the head was set on the shoulders, +Billy disappeared into the house for a moment. +He came back carrying a suit-case. +“Shut your eyes, every manjack of you,” +he ordered. “You’re not to see what I do +until it’s done. If I catch one of you peeking, +I’ll confine you in the snow-house for +five minutes.”</p> + +<p>The W.M.N.T.’s shut their eyes tight +and held down the lids with resolute fingers. +But they kept their ears wide open. The +mysterious work on which Billy was engaged +was accompanied by the most tantalizing +noises. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy, can’t I please look,” Maida +begged, jiggling up and down. “I can’t +stand it much longer.”</p> + +<p>“In a minute,” Billy said encouragingly. +The mysterious noises kept up. “Now,” +Billy said suddenly.</p> + +<p>Four pairs of eyes leaped open. Four +pairs of lips shrieked their delight. Indeed, +Maida and Rosie laughed so hard that +they finally rolled in the snow.</p> + +<p>Billy had put an old coat on the snow-man’s +body. He had put a tall hat—Arthur +called it a “stove-pipe”—on the snow-man’s +head. He had put an old black pipe +between the snow-man’s grinning, orange-colored +teeth. Gloves hung limply from +the snow-man’s arm-stumps and to one of +them a cane was fastened. Billy had managed +to give the snow-man’s head a cock to +one side. Altogether he looked so spruce +and jovial that it was impossible not to like +him.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Chumpleigh, ladies and gentlemen,” +Billy said. “Some members of the W.M.N.T., +Mr. Chumpleigh.”</p> + +<p>And Mr. Chumpleigh, he was until—until—</p> + +<p>Billy stayed that night to dinner. They +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +had just finished eating when an excited +ring of the bell announced Rosie.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Granny,” she said, “the boys have +made a most wonderful coast down Halliwell +Street and Aunt Theresa says I can go +coasting until nine o’clock if you’ll let +Maida go too. I thought maybe you would, +especially if Billy comes along.”</p> + +<p>“If Misther Billy goes, ’twill be all +roight.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Granny,” Maida said, “you dear, +darling, old fairy-dame!” She was so excited +that she wriggled like a little eel all +the time Granny was bundling her into her +clothes. And when she reached the street, +it seemed as if she must explode.</p> + +<p>A big moon, floating like a silver balloon +in the sky, made the night like day. The +neighborhood sizzled with excitement for +the street and sidewalks were covered with +children dragging sleds.</p> + +<p>“It’s like the <span style="font-style: normal">‘Pied Piper’</span>, Rosie,” +Maida said joyfully, “children everywhere +and all going in the same direction.”</p> + +<p>They followed the procession up Warrington +Street to where Halliwell Street +sloped down the hill.</p> + +<p>Billy let out a long whistle of astonishment. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +“Great Scott, what a coast!” he +said.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the street was a ribbon +of ice three feet wide and as smooth as +glass. At the foot of the hill, a piled-up +mound of snow served as a buffer.</p> + +<p>“The boys have been working on the slide +all day,” Rosie said. “Did you ever see +such a nice one, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“I never saw any kind of a one,” Maida +confessed. “How did they make it so +smooth?”</p> + +<p>“Pouring water on it.”</p> + +<p>“Have you never coasted before, +Maida?” Billy asked.</p> + +<p>“Never.”</p> + +<p>“Well, here’s your chance then,” said a +cheerful voice back of them. They all +turned. There stood Arthur Duncan with +what Maida soon learned was a “double-runner.”</p> + +<p>Billy examined it carefully. “Did you +make it, Arthur?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Pretty good piece of work,” Billy commented. +“Want to try it, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“I’m crazy to!”</p> + +<p>“All right. Pile on!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>Arthur took his place in front. Rosie +sat next, then Dicky, then Maida, then +Billy.</p> + +<p>“Hold on to Dicky,” Billy instructed +Maida, “and I’ll hold on to you.”</p> + +<p>Tingling with excitement, Maida did as +she was told. But it seemed as if they +would never start. But at last, she heard +Billy’s voice, “On your marks. Get set! +Go!” The double-runner stirred.</p> + +<p>It moved slowly for a moment across the +level top of the street. Then came the first +slope of the hill—they plunged forward. +She heard Rosie’s hysterical shriek, Dicky’s +vociferous cheers and Billy’s blood-curdling +yells, but she herself was as silent as a little +image. They struck the second slope of the +hill—then she screamed, too. The houses +on either side shot past like pictures in the +kinetoscope. She felt a rush of wind that +must surely blow her ears off. They +reached the third slope of the hill—and now +they had left the earth and were sailing +through the air. The next instant the +double-runner had come to rest on the bank +of snow and Rosie and she were hugging +each other and saying, “Wasn’t it +GREAT?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>They climbed to the top of the hill again. +All the way back, Maida watched the sleds +whizzing down the coast, boys alone on +sleds, girls alone on sleds, pairs of girls, +pairs of boys, one seated in front, the other +steering with a foot that trailed behind on +the ice, timid little girls who did not dare +the ice but contented themselves with sliding +on the snow at either side, daring little boys +who went down lying flat on their sleds.</p> + +<p>At the top they were besieged with entreaties +to go on the double-runner and, as +there was room enough for one more, they +took a little boy or girl with them each time. +Rosie lent her sled to those who had none. +At first there were plenty of these, standing +at the top of the coast, wistfully watching +the fun of more fortunate children. But +after a while it was discovered that the +ice was so smooth that almost anything +could be used for coasting. The sledless +ones rushed home and reappeared with all +kinds of things. One little lad went down +on a shovel and his intrepid little sister followed +on a broom. Boxes and shingles and +even dish-pans began to appear. Most +reckless of all, one big fellow slid down on +his two feet, landing in a heap in the snow. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + +<p>Maida enjoyed every moment of it—even +the long walks back up the hill. Once the +double-runner struck into a riderless sled +that had drifted on to the course, and was +overturned immediately. Nobody was hurt. +Rosie, Dicky and Arthur were cast safely +to one side in the soft snow. But Maida +and Billy were thrown, whirling, on to the +ice. Billy kept his grip on Maida and they +shot down the hill, turning round and +round and round. At first Maida was a little +frightened. But when she saw that they +were perfectly safe, that Billy was making +her spin about in that ridiculous fashion, +she laughed so hard that she was weak when +they reached the bottom.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do let’s do that again!” she said +when she caught her breath.</p> + +<p>Never was such a week as followed. The +cold weather kept up. Continued storms +added to the snow. For the first time in +years came four one-session days in a single +week. It seemed as if Jack Frost were on +the side of the children. He would send +violent flurries of snow just before the one-session +bell rang but as soon as the children +were safely on the street, the sun would +come out bright as summer. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>Every morning when Maida woke up, she +would say to herself, “I wonder how Mr. +Chumpleigh is to-day.” Then she would +run over to the window to see.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chumpleigh had become a great favorite +in the neighborhood. He was so tall +that his round, happy face with its eternal +orange-peel grin could look straight over +the fence to the street. The passers-by used +to stop, paralyzed by the vision. But after +studying the phenomenon, they would go +laughing on their way. Occasionally a bad +boy would shy a snow-ball at the smiling +countenance but Mr. Chumpleigh was so +hard-headed that nothing seemed to hurt +him. In the course of time, the “stove-pipe” +became very battered and, as the result +of continued storms, one eye sank down +to the middle of his cheek. But in spite of +these injuries, he continued to maintain his +genial grin.</p> + +<p>“Let’s go out and fix Mr. Chumpleigh,” +Rosie would say every day. The two little +girls would brush the snow off his hat +and coat, adjust his nose and teeth, would +straighten him up generally.</p> + +<p>After a while, Maida threw her bird-crumbs +all over Mr. Chumpleigh. Thereafter, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +the saucy little English sparrows ate +from Mr. Chumpleigh’s hat-brim, his pipe-bowl, +even his pockets.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps the snow will last all winter,” +Maida said hopefully one day. “If it does, +Mr. Chumpleigh’s health will be perfect.”</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps, it’s just as well if he +goes,” Rosie said sensibly; “we haven’t +done a bit of work since he came.”</p> + +<p>On Sunday the weather moderated a little. +Mr. Chumpleigh bore a most melancholy +look all the afternoon as if he feared +what was to come. What was worse, he +lost his nose.</p> + +<p>Monday morning, Maida ran to the window +dreading what she might see. But instead +of the thaw she expected, a most beautiful +sight spread out before her. The +weather had turned cold in the night. Everything +that had started to melt had frozen +up again. The sidewalks were liked frosted +cakes. Long icicles made pretty fringes +around the roofs of the houses. The trees +and bushes were glazed by a sheathing of +crystal. The sunlight playing through all +this turned the world into a heap of diamonds.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chumpleigh had perked up under the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +influence of the cold. His manner had +gained in solidity although his gaze was a +little glassy. Hopefully Maida hunted +about until she found his nose.</p> + +<p>She replaced his old set with some new +orange-peel teeth and stuck his pipe between +them. He looked quite himself.</p> + +<p>But, alas, the sun came out and melted +the whole world. The sidewalks trickled +streams. The icicles dripped away in +showers of diamonds. The trees lost their +crystal sheathing.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, Mr. Chumpleigh began +to droop. By night his head was resting +disconsolately on his own shoulder. +When Maida looked out the next morning, +there was nothing in the corner but a mound +of snow. An old coat lay to one side. +Strewn about were a hat, a pair of gloves, +a pipe and a cane.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chumpleigh had passed away in the +night.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>THE FAIR</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em"> +<span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 130%">SAVE YOUR +PENNIES</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 90%">A CHRISTMAS +FAIR</span><br /><span style="font-size: 90%">WILL BE HELD IN THIS +SHOP</span><br /><span style="font-size: 90%">THE SATURDAY +BEFORE</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 120%">CHRISTMAS</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 90%">DELICIOUS +CANDIES MADE BY</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 120%">MISS ROSIE +BRINE</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 90%">PAPER GOODS DESIGNED +AND</span><br /><span style="font-size: 90%">EXECUTED BY</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 120%">MASTER +RICHARD DORE</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 90%">WOOD CARVING DESIGNED +AND</span><br /><span style="font-size: 90%">EXECUTED BY</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 120%">MASTER ARTHUR +DUNCAN</span><br /><span style="font-size: 120%">DON'T MISS IT!</span></span> +</p> +<p></p> +<p>This sign hung in Maida’s window for +a week. Billy made it. The lettering +was red and gold. In one corner, he +painted a picture of a little boy and girl in +their nightgowns peeking up a chimney-place +hung with stockings. In the other +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +corner, the full-moon face of a Santa Claus +popped like a jolly jack-in-the-box from a +chimney-top. A troop of reindeer, dragging +a sleigh full of toys, scurried through +the printing. The whole thing was enclosed +in a wreath of holly.</p> + +<p>The sign attracted a great deal of attention. +Children were always stopping to admire +it and even grown-people paused now +and then. There was such a falling-off of +Maida’s trade that she guessed that the +children were really saving their pennies +for the fair. This delighted her.</p> + +<p>The W.M.N.T.’s wasted no time that +last week in spite of a very enticing snowstorm. +Maida, of course, had nothing to do +on her own account, but she worked with +Dicky, morning and afternoon.</p> + +<p>Rosie could not make candy until the last +two or three days for fear it would get stale. +Then she set to like a little whirlwind.</p> + +<p>“My face is almost tanned from bending +over the stove,” she said to Maida; +“Aunt Theresa says if I cook another batch +of candy, I’ll have a crop of freckles.”</p> + +<p>Arthur seemed to work the hardest of all +because his work was so much more difficult. +It took a great deal of time and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +strength and yet nobody could help him in +it. The sound of his hammering came into +Maida’s room early in the morning. It +came in sometimes late at night when, cuddling +between her blankets, she thought +what a happy girl she was.</p> + +<p>“I niver saw such foine, busy little +folks,” Granny said approvingly again and +again. “It moinds me av me own Annie. +Niver a moment but that lass was working +at some t’ing. Oh, I wonder what she’s +doun’ and finking this Christmas.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you worry,” Maida always said. +“Billy’ll find her for you yet—he said he +would.”</p> + +<p>Maida, herself, was giving, for the first +time in her experience, a good deal of +thought to Christmas time.</p> + +<p>In the first place, she had sent the following +invitation to every child in Primrose +Court:</p> + +<p>“Will you please come to my Christmas +Tree to be given Christmas Night in the +<span style="font-style: normal">‘Little Shop.’</span> Maida.”</p> + +<p>In the second place, she was spying on +all her friends, listening to their talk, watching +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +them closely in work and play to find +just the right thing to give them.</p> + +<p>“Do you know, I never made a Christmas +present in my life,” she said one day to +Rosie.</p> + +<p>“You never made a Christmas present?” +Rosie repeated.</p> + +<p>Maida’s quick perception sensed in Rosie’s +face an unspoken accusation of selfishness.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, Rosie +dear,” Maida hastened to explain. “It was +because I was too sick. You see, I was always +in bed. I was too weak to make anything +and I could not go out and buy presents +as other children did. But people +used to give me the loveliest things.”</p> + +<p>“What did they give you?” Rosie asked +curiously.</p> + +<p>“Oh, all kinds of things. Father’s given +me an automobile and a pair of Shetland +ponies and a family of twenty dolls and my +weight in silver dollars. I can’t remember +half the things I’ve had.”</p> + +<p>“A pair of Shetland ponies, an automobile, +a family of twenty dolls, your weight +in silver dollars,” Rosie repeated after her. +“Why, Maida, you’re dreaming or you’re +out of your head.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Out of my head! Why, Rosie you’re +out of <span style="font-style: italic">your</span> head. Don’t you suppose I +know what I got for Christmas?” Maida’s +eyes began to flash and her lips to tremble.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, Maida, just think of it,” Rosie +said in her most reasonable voice. “Here +you are a little girl just like anybody else +only you’re running a shop. Now just as +if you could afford to have an automobile! +Why, my father knows a man who knows +another man who bought an automobile and +it cost nine hundred dollars. What did +yours cost?”</p> + +<p>“Two thousand dollars.” Maida said +this with a guilty air in spite of her knowledge +of her own truth.</p> + +<p>Rosie smiled roguishly. “Maida, dear,” +she coaxed, “you dreamed it.”</p> + +<p>Maida started to her feet. For a moment +she came near saying something very +saucy indeed. But she remembered in time. +Of course nobody in the neighborhood knew +that she was “Buffalo” Westabrook’s +daughter. It was impossible for her to +prove any of her statements. The flash +died out of her eyes. But another flash +came into her cheeks—the flash of dimples.</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps I <span style="font-style: italic">did</span> +dream it, Rosie,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +she said archly. “But I don’t think I did,” +she added in a quiet voice.</p> + +<p>Rosie turned the subject tactfully. +“What are you going to give your father?” +she asked.</p> + +<p>“That’s bothering me dreadfully,” Maida +sighed; “I can’t think of anything he +needs.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you buy him the same thing +I’m going to get my papa,” Rosie suggested +eagerly. “That is, I’m going to buy +it if I make enough money at the fair. +Does your father shave himself?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Adolph, his valet, always shaves +him,” Maida answered.</p> + +<p>Rosie’s brow knit over the word +<span style="font-style: italic">valet</span>—but +Maida was always puzzling the neighborhood +with strange expressions. Then +her brow lightened. “My father goes to a +barber, too,” she said. “I’ve heard him +complaining lots of times how expensive it +is. And the other day Arthur told me +about a razor his father uses. He says it’s +just like a lawn-mower or a carpet-sweeper. +You don’t have to have anybody shave you +if you have one of them. You run it right +over your face and it takes all the beard off +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +and doesn’t cut or anything. Now, wouldn’t +you think that would be fun?”</p> + +<p>“I should think it would be just lovely,” +Maida agreed. “That’s just the thing for +papa—for he is so busy. How much does +it cost, Rosie?”</p> + +<p>“About a dollar, Arthur thought. I +never paid so much for a Christmas present +in my life. And I’m not sure yet that I +can get one. But if I do sell two dollars +worth of candy, I can buy something perfectly +beautiful for both father and +mother.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie,” Maida asked breathlessly, +“do you mean that your mother’s come +back?”</p> + +<p>Rosie’s face changed. “Don’t you think +I’d tell you that the first thing? No, she +hasn’t come back and they don’t say anything +about her coming back. But if she +ever does come, I guess I’m going to have +her Christmas present all ready for her.”</p> + +<p>Maida patted her hand. “She’s coming +back,” she said; “I know it.”</p> + +<p>Rosie sighed. “You come down Main +Street the night before Christmas. Dicky +and I are going to buy our Christmas presents +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +then and we can show you where to +get the little razor.”</p> + +<p>“I’d love to.” Maida beamed. And indeed, +it seemed the most fascinating prospect +in the world to her. Every night +after she went to bed, she thought it over. +She was really going to buy Christmas presents +without any grown-up person about to +interfere. It was rapture.</p> + +<p>The night before the fair, the children +worked even harder than the night before +Halloween, for there were so many things +to display. It was evident that the stock +would overflow windows and shelves and +show cases.</p> + +<p>“We’ll bring the long kitchen table in +for your things, Arthur,” Maida decided +after a perplexed consideration of the subject. +“Dicky’s and Rosie’s things ought to +go on the shelves and into the show cases +where nobody can handle them.”</p> + +<p>They tugged the table into the shop and +covered it with a beautiful old blue counter-pane.</p> + +<p>“That’s fine!” Arthur approved, unpacking +his handicraft from the bushel-baskets +in which he brought them.</p> + +<p>The others stood round admiring the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +treasures and helping him to arrange them +prettily. A fleet of graceful little boats occupied +one end of the table, piles of bread-boards, +rolling-pins and “cats,” the other. +In the center lay a bowl filled with tiny +baskets, carved from peach-stones. From +the molding hung a fringe of hockey-sticks.</p> + +<p>Having arranged all Arthur’s things, the +quartette filed upstairs to the closet where +Dicky’s paper-work was kept.</p> + +<p>“Gracious, I didn’t realize there were so +many,” Rosie said.</p> + +<p>“Sure, the lad has worked day and +night,” Granny said, patting Dicky’s thin +cheek.</p> + +<p>They filled Arthur’s baskets and trooped +back to the shop. They lined show case and +shelves with the glittering things—boxes, +big and little, gorgeously ornamented with +stars and moons, caps of gold and silver, +flying gay plumes, rainbow boats too beautiful +to sail on anything but fairy seas, miniature +jackets and trousers that only a circus +rider would wear.</p> + +<p>“Dicky, I never did see anything look so +lovely,” Maida said, shaking her hands with +delight. “I really didn’t realize how pretty +they were.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dicky’s big eyes glowed with satisfaction. +“Nor me neither,” he confessed.</p> + +<p>“And now,” Maida said, bubbling over +with suppressed importance, “Rosie’s candies—I’ve +saved that until the last.” She +pulled out one of the drawers under the +show case and lifted it on to the counter. +It was filled with candy-boxes of paper, +prettily decorated with flower patterns on +the outside, with fringes of lace paper on +the inside. “I ordered these boxes for you, +Rosie,” she explained. “I knew your +candy would sell better if it was put up +nicely. I thought the little ones could be +five-cent size, the middle-sized ones ten-cent +size, and the big ones twenty-five cent size.”</p> + +<p>Rosie was dancing up and down with delight. +“They’re just lovely, Maida, and +how sweet you were to think of it. But it +was just like you.”</p> + +<p>“Now we must pack them,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>Four pairs of hands made light work of +this. By nine o’clock all the boxes were +filled and spread out temptingly in the +show case. By a quarter past nine, three +of the W.M.N.T.’s were in bed trying +hard to get to sleep. But Maida stayed up. +The boxes were not her only surprise. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<p>After the others had gone, she and Granny +worked for half an hour in the little shop.</p> + +<p>The Saturday before Christmas dawned +clear and fair. Rosie hallooed for Dicky +and Arthur as she came out of doors at half-past +seven and all three arrived at the shop +together. Their faces took on such a +comic look of surprise that Maida burst out +laughing.</p> + +<p>“But where did it all come from?” Rosie +asked in bewilderment. “Maida, you slyboots, +you must have done all this after we +left.”</p> + +<p>Maida nodded.</p> + +<p>But all Arthur and Dicky said was +“Gee!” and “Jiminy crickets!” But +Maida found these exclamatives quite as expressive +as Rosie’s hugs. And, indeed, she +herself thought the place worthy of any degree +of admiring enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>The shop was so strung with garlands of +Christmas green that it looked like a bower. +Bunches of mistletoe and holly added their +colors to the holiday cheer. Red Christmas +bells hung everywhere.</p> + +<p>“My goodness, I never passed such a day +in my life,” Maida said that night at dinner. +She was telling it all to Granny, who +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +had been away on mysterious business of +her own. “It’s been like a beehive here +ever since eight o’clock this morning. If +we’d each of us had an extra pair of hands +at our knees and another at our waists, perhaps +we could have begun to wait on all the +people.”</p> + +<p>“Sure ’twas no more than you deserved +for being such busy little bees,” Granny approved.</p> + +<p>“The only trouble was,” Maida went on +smilingly, “that they liked everything so +much that they could not decide which they +wanted most. Of course, the boys preferred +Arthur’s carvings and the girls +Rosie’s candy. But it was hard to say who +liked Dicky’s things the best.”</p> + +<p>Granny twinkled with delight. She had +never told Maida, but she did not need to +tell her, that Dicky was her favorite.</p> + +<p>“And then the grown people who came, +Granny! First Arthur’s father on his way +to work, then Mrs. Lathrop and Laura—they +bought loads of things, and Mrs. Clark +and Mrs. Doyle and even Mr. Flanagan +bought a hockey-stick. He said,” Maida +dimpled with delight, “he said he bought it +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +to use on Arthur and Rosie if they ever +hooked jack again. Poor Miss Allison +bought one of Arthur’s ‘cats’—what do you +suppose for?”</p> + +<p>Granny had no idea.</p> + +<p>“To wind her wool on. Then Billy came +at the last minute and bought everything +that was left. And just think, Granny, +there was a crowd of little boys and girls +who had stood about watching all day without +any money to spend and Billy divided +among them all the things he bought. +Guess how much money they made!”</p> + +<p>Granny guessed three sums, and each +time Maida said, triumphantly, “More!” +At last Granny had to give it up.</p> + +<p>“Arthur made five dollars and thirty +cents. Dicky made three dollars and +eighty-seven cents. Rosie made two dollars +and seventy cents.”</p> + +<p>After dinner that night, Maida accompanied +Rosie and Dicky on the Christmas-shopping +expedition.</p> + +<p>They went first to a big dry goods store +with Dicky. They helped Dicky to pick out +a fur collar for his mother from a counter +marked conspicuously $2.98. The one they +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +selected was of gray and brown fur. It was +Maida’s opinion that it was sable and chinchilla +mixed.</p> + +<p>Dicky’s face shone with delight when at +last he tucked the big round box safely under +his arm. “Just think, I’ve been planning +to do this for three years,” he said, +“and I never could have done it now if it +hadn’t been for you, Maida.”</p> + +<p>Next Dicky took the two little girls where +they could buy razors. “The kind that goes +like a lawn-mower,” Rosie explained to the +proprietor. The man stared hard before he +showed them his stock. But he was very +kind and explained to them exactly how the +wonderful little machine worked.</p> + +<p>Maida noticed that Rosie examined very +carefully all the things displayed in windows +and on counters. But nothing she +saw seemed to satisfy her, for she did not +buy.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Rosie?” Maida asked after +a while.</p> + +<p>“I’m looking for something for my +mother.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll help you,” Maida said. She took +Rosie’s hand, and, thus linked together, the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +two little girls discussed everything that +they saw.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, Rosie uttered a little cry of joy +and stopped at a jeweler’s window. A tray +with the label, “SOLID SILVER, $1,” +overflowed with little heart-shaped pendants.</p> + +<p>“Mama’d love one of those,” Rosie said. +“She just loved things she could hang round +her neck.”</p> + +<p>They went inside. “It’s just what I +want,” Rosie declared. “But I wish I had +a little silver chain for it. I can’t afford +one though,” she concluded wistfully.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know what to do,” Maida said. +“Buy a piece of narrow black velvet ribbon. +Once my father gave my mother a beautiful +diamond heart. Mother used to wear it on +a black velvet ribbon. Afterwards papa +bought her a chain of diamonds. But she +always liked the black velvet best and so did +papa and so did I. Papa said it made her +neck look whiter.”</p> + +<p>The other three children looked curiously +at Maida when she said, “diamond heart.” +When she said, “string of diamonds,” they +looked at each other. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Was that another of your dreams, +Maida?” Rosie asked mischievously.</p> + +<p>“Dreams!” Maida repeated, firing up. +But before she could say anything that she +would regret, the dimples came. “Perhaps +it was a dream,” she said prettily. “But if +it was, then everything’s a dream.”</p> + +<p>“I believe every word that Maida says,” +Dicky protested stoutly.</p> + +<p>“I believe that Maida believes it,” Arthur +said with a smile.</p> + +<p>They all stopped with Rosie while she +bought the black velvet ribbon and strung +the heart on it. She packed it neatly away +in the glossy box in which the jeweler had +done it up.</p> + +<p>“If my mama doesn’t come back to wear +that heart, nobody else ever will,” she said +passionately. “Never—never—never—unless +I have a little girl of my own some day.”</p> + +<p>“Your mother’ll come back,” Maida +said.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>CHRISTMAS HAPPENINGS</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>Maida was awakened early Christmas +morning by a long, wild peal of the +bell. Before she could collect her scattered +wits, she heard Rosie’s voice, “Merry +Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry +Christmas! Oh, Granny, won’t you please +let me run upstairs and wake Maida? I’ve +got something dreadfully important to tell +her.”</p> + +<p>Maida heard Granny’s bewildered “All +roight, child,” heard Rosie’s rush through +the living-room and then she bounded out +of bed, prickling all over with excitement.</p> + +<p>“Maida,” Rosie called from the stairs, +“wake up! I’ve something wonderful to +tell you.”</p> + +<p>But Maida had guessed it.</p> + +<p>“I know,” she cried, as Rosie burst into +the room. “Your mother’s come home.”</p> + +<p>“My mother’s come home,” Rosie echoed.</p> + +<p>The two little girls seized each other and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +hopped around the room in a mad dance, +Maida chanting in a deep sing-song, “Your +mother’s come home!” and Rosie screaming +at the top of her lungs, “My mother’s come +home!” After a few moments of this, they +sank exhausted on the bed.</p> + +<p>“Tell me all about it,” Maida gasped. +“Begin at the very beginning and don’t +leave anything out.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” Rosie began, “I will. +When I went to bed last night after leaving +you, I got to thinking of my mother and +pretty soon I was so sad that I nearly cried +my eyes out. Well, after a long while I got +to sleep and I guess I must have been very +tired, for I didn’t wake up the way I do +generally of my own accord. Aunt Theresa +had to wake me. She put on my best dress +and did my hair this new way and even let +me put cologne on. I couldn’t think why, +because I never dress up until afternoons. +Once when I looked at her, I saw there were +tears in her eyes and, oh, Maida, it made me +feel something awful, for I thought she was +going to tell me that my mother was dead. +When I came downstairs, my father hugged +me and kissed me and sat with me while I +ate my breakfast. Oh, I was so afraid he +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +was going to tell me that mother was dead! +But he didn’t! After awhile, he said, +<span style="font-style: normal">‘Your Christmas presents are all up in your +mother’s bedroom, Rosie.’</span> So I skipped +up there. My father and Aunt Theresa +didn’t come with me, but I noticed they +stood downstairs and listened. I opened +the door.”</p> + +<p>Rosie stopped for breath.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” Maida entreated; “oh, do +hurry.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there, lying on the bed was my +mother. Maida, I felt so queer that I +couldn’t move. My feet wouldn’t walk—-just +like in a dream. My mother said, +<span style="font-style: normal">‘Come here, my precious little girl,’</span> but it +sounded as if it came from way, way, way +off. And Maida <span style="font-style: italic">then</span> I could move. I ran +across the room and hugged her and kissed +her until I couldn’t breathe. Then she said, +<span style="font-style: normal">‘I have a beautiful Christmas gift for you, +little daughter,’</span> and she pulled something +over towards me that lay, all wrapped up, in +a shawl on the bed. What do you think it +was?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Oh, tell me, Rosie!”</p> + +<p>“Guess,” Rosie insisted, her eyes dancing. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Rosie, if you don’t tell me this minute, +I’ll pinch you.”</p> + +<p>“It was a baby—a little baby brother.”</p> + +<p>“A baby! Oh, Rosie!”</p> + +<p>The two little girls hopped about the +room in another mad dance.</p> + +<p>“Maida, he’s the darlingest baby that +ever was in the whole wide world! His +name is Edward. He’s only six weeks old +and <span style="font-style: italic">he can smile</span>,”</p> + +<p>“Smile, Rosie?”</p> + +<p>“He can—I saw him—and sneeze!”</p> + +<p>“Sneeze, Rosie?”</p> + +<p>“That’s not all,” said Rosie proudly. +“He can wink his eyes and double up his +fists—and—and—and a whole lot of things. +There’s no doubt that he’s a remarkable +baby. My mother says so. And pretty as—oh, +he’s prettier than any puppy I ever +saw. He’s a little too pink in the face and +he hasn’t much hair yet—there’s a funny +spot in the top of his head that goes up and +down all the time that you have to be dreadfully +careful about. But he certainly is the +loveliest baby I ever saw. What do you +think my mother let me do?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, what?”</p> + +<p>“She let me rock him for a moment. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +And I asked her if you could rock him some +day and she said you could.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! oh!”</p> + +<p>“And what else do you think she’s going +to let me do?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t guess. Oh, tell me quick, +Rosie.”</p> + +<p>“She says she’s going to let me give him +his bath Saturdays and Sundays and wheel +him out every day in his carriage.”</p> + +<p>“Rosie,” Maida said impressively, “you +ought to be the happiest little girl in the +world. Think of having a baby brother for +a Christmas present. You will let me wheel +him sometimes, won’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I will. I shall divide him exactly +in half with you.”</p> + +<p>“Where has your mother been all this +time?” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, she’s been dreadfully sick in a hospital. +She was sick after the baby came to +her—so sick that she couldn’t even take +care of him. She said they were afraid she +was going to die. But she’s all right now. +Father bought her for Christmas a beautiful, +long, red-silk dress that’s just to lie +down in. She looks like a queen in it, and +yet she looks like a little girl, too, for her +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +hair is done in two braids. Her hair comes +way down below her waist like your mother’s +hair. And when I gave her the little +silver heart, she was so pleased with it. +She put it right on and it looked sweet. +She said she would much rather wear it on +a black velvet ribbon than on a silver +chain.”</p> + +<p>“Everything’s come out all right, hasn’t +it?” Maida said with ecstasy.</p> + +<p>“I guess it has. Now I must go. I want +to be sure to be there when the baby wakes +up. I asked my mother when you could see +the baby, Maida, and she said to-morrow. +I can’t wait to show you its feet—you never +did see such little toes in your life.”</p> + +<p>Exciting as this event was, it was as nothing +to what followed.</p> + +<p>Granny and Maida were still talking +about Rosie’s happiness when Billy Potter +suddenly came marching through the shop +and into the living-room.</p> + +<p>“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! +Merry Christmas!” they all said at once.</p> + +<p>“Granny,” Billy asked immediately, “if +you could have your choice of all the Christmas +gifts in the world, which one would you +choose?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<p>An expression of bewilderment came +into Granny’s bright blue eyes.</p> + +<p>“A Christmas gift, Misther Billy,” she +said in an uncertain tone; “I cudn’t t’ink +of a t’ing as long as Oi can’t have me little +Annie wid me.”</p> + +<p>Maida saw Billy’s eyes snap and sparkle +at the word Annie. She wondered what—Could +it be possible that—She began to +tremble.</p> + +<p>“And so you’d choose your daughter, +Granny?” Billy questioned.</p> + +<p>“Choose my daughter. Av coorse Oi +wud!” Granny stopped to stare in astonishment +at Billy. “Oh, Misther Billy, if +you cud only foind her!” She gazed imploringly +at him. Billy continued to smile +at her, his eyes all “skrinkled up.” Granny +jumped to her feet. She seized Billy’s arm. +“Oh, Misther Billy, you <span style="font-style: italic">have</span> found her,” +she quavered.</p> + +<p>Billy nodded. “I’ve found her, Granny! +I told you I would and I have. Now don’t +get excited. She’s all right and you’re all +right and everything’s all right. She’ll be +here just as soon as you’re ready to see +her.”</p> + +<p>For a moment Maida was afraid Granny +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +was going to faint, for she dropped back +into her chair and her eyes filled with tears. +But at Billy’s last words the old fire came +back to her eyes, the color to her cheeks. +“Oi want to see her at wance,” she said with +spirit.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” Billy said. “Last night I happened +to fall into conversation with a young +Irishman who had come to read the gas-meter +in my house. I asked him where he +came from. He said, <span style="font-style: normal">‘Aldigarey, County +Sligo.’</span> I asked him if he knew Annie +Flynn. <span style="font-style: normal">‘Sure, didn’t she marry my cousin? +She lives—’</span> Well, the short of it is +that I went right over to see her, though +it was late then. I found her a widow with +two children. She nearly went crazy at the +prospect of seeing her mother again, but +we agreed that we must wait until morning. +We planned—oh, come in, Annie,” he called +suddenly.</p> + +<p>At his call, the shop door opened and +shut. There was a rush of two pairs of +feet through the shop. In the doorway appeared +a young woman carrying a baby. +Behind her came a little boy on crutches. +Granny stood like a marble statue, staring. +But Maida screamed. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<p>Who do you suppose they were?</p> + +<p>They were Mrs. Dore and Delia and +Dicky.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my mother!” Mrs. Dore said.</p> + +<p>“My little Annie—my little girl,” Granny +murmured. The tears began to stream +down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>Followed kissings and huggings by the +dozen. Followed questions and answers by +the score.</p> + +<p>“And to t’ink you’ve been living forninst +us all this time,” Granny said after the excitement +had died down. She was sitting +on the couch now, with Delia asleep in her +lap, Mrs. Dore on one side and Dicky on the +other. “And sure, me own hearrt was telling +me the trut’ all the toime did Oi but +listhen to ut—for ’twas loving this foine little +lad ivry minut av the day.” She patted +Dicky’s head. “And me niver seeing the +baby that had me own name!” She cuddled +Delia close. “OI’m the happiest +woman in the whole woide wurrld this +day.”</p> + +<p> +It was arranged that the two families +were to have Christmas dinner together. +Dicky and Mrs. Dore hurried back for a +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +few moments to bring their turkey to the +feast.</p> + +<p>“Granny, will you love me just the same +now that you’ve got Dicky and Delia?” +Maida said wistfully.</p> + +<p>“Love you, my lamb? Sure, I’ll love you +all the more for ’twas t’rough you I met +Misther Billy and t’rough Misther Billy I +found me Annie. Ah, Misther Billy, ’tis +the grand man you make for such a b’y that +you are!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, m’m,” said Billy.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Dore returned, mother and +daughter went to work on the dinner, while +Billy and Maida and Dicky trimmed the +tree. When the door opened, they caught +bits of conversation, Granny’s brogue +growing thicker and thicker in her excitement, +and Mrs. Dore relapsing, under its influence, +into old-country speech. At such +times, Maida noticed that Billy’s eyes always +“skrinkled up.”</p> + +<p>They were just putting the finishing +touches to the tree when the window darkened +suddenly. Maida looked up in surprise. +And then, “Oh, my papa’s come!” +she screamed; “my papa’s come to my +Christmas tree after all!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<p>There is so much to tell about the Christmas +tree that I don’t know where to begin.</p> + +<p>First of all came Laura and Harold. +Mrs. Lathrop stopped with them for a moment +to congratulate Mrs. Dore on finding +her mother.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Lathrop, permit me to introduce +my father, Mr. Westabrook,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lathrop was very gracious. “The +neighborhood have accepted your daughter +as Mrs. Flynn’s grandchild, Mr. Westabrook. +But I guessed the truth from the +first. I believed, however, that you wished +the matter kept a secret and I have said +nothing of it to anybody.”</p> + +<p>“I thank you, madam,” said “Buffalo” +Westabrook, bending on her one of his +piercing scrutinies. “How ever the neighborhood +accepted her, they have given her +back her health. I can never be too grateful +to them.”</p> + +<p>Came Rosie next with a, “Oh, Maida, if +you could only have seen Edward when my +mother bathed him to-night!” Came Arthur, +came the Doyles, came the Clark twins +with Betsy tagging at their heels. Last of +all, to Maida’s great delight, came Dr. +Pierce. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nobody was allowed to go into the shop +where the tree stood until the last guest +had arrived. But in spite of their impatience +they had a gay half hour of waiting. +Billy amused them with all kinds of games +and tricks and jokes, and when he tired, Dr. +Pierce, who soon became a great favorite, +took them in hand.</p> + +<p>Dr. Pierce sat, most of the evening, holding +Betsy in his lap, listening to her funny +baby chatter and roaring at her escapades. +He took a great fancy to the Clark twins +and made all manner of fun for the children +by pretending that there was only one of +them. “Goodness; how you do fly about!” +he would say ruefully to Dorothy, “An instant +ago you were standing close beside +me,” or “How can you be here on the +couch,” he would say to Mabel, “when there +you are as plain as a pikestaff standing up +in the corner?”</p> + +<p>“What can you do about that leg, Eli?” +Mr. Westabrook asked Dr. Pierce once +when Dicky swung across the room.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been thinking about that,” Dr. +Pierce answered briskly. “I guess Granny +and Annie will have to let me take Dicky for +a while. A few months in my hospital and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +he’ll be jumping round here like a frog with +the toothache.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dr. Pierce, do you think you can +cure him?” Mrs. Dore asked, clasping her +hands.</p> + +<p>“Cure him!” Dr. Pierce answered with +his jolliest laugh. “Of course we can. +He’s not in half so bad a condition as +Maida was when we straightened her out. +Greinschmidt taught us a whole bag of +tricks. Dicky could almost mend himself if +he’d only stay still long enough. Look at +Maida. Would you ever think she’d been +much worse than Dicky?”</p> + +<p>Everybody stared hard at Maida, seated +on her father’s knee, and she dimpled and +blushed under the observation. She was +dressed all in white—white ribbons, white +sash, white socks and shoes, the softest, +filmiest white cobweb dress. Her hair +streamed loose—a cascade of delicate, clinging +ringlets of the palest gold. Her big, +gray eyes, soft with the happiness of the +long day, reflected the firelight. Her +cheeks had grown round as well as pink and +dimpled.</p> + +<p>She did not look sick.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dicky,” she cried, “just think, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +you’re going to be cured. Didn’t I tell you +when my father saw you, he’d fix it all +right? My father’s a magician!”</p> + +<p>But Dicky could not answer. He was +gulping furiously to keep back the tears of +delight. But he smiled his radiant smile. +Billy took everybody’s attention away from +him by turning an unexpected cartwheel in +the middle of the floor.</p> + +<p>Finally, Maida announced that it was +time for the tree. They formed in line and +marched into the shop to a tune that Billy +thumped out of the silver-toned old spinet.</p> + +<p>I wish you could have heard the things +the children said.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The tree went close to the ceiling. Just +above it, with arms outstretched, swung a +beautiful Christmas angel. Hanging from +it were all kinds of glittery, quivery, +sparkly things in silver and gold. Festooned +about it were strings of pop corn +and cranberries. At every branch-tip glistened +a long glass icicle. And the whole +thing was ablaze with candles and veiled +in a mist of gold and silver.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the tree, groups of tiny +figures in painted plaster told the whole +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +Christmas Day story from the moment of +the first sight of the star by the shepherds +who watched their flocks to the arrival, at +the manger, of the Wise Men, bearing gold, +frankincense and myrrh.</p> + +<p>Billy Potter disappeared for a moment +and came in, presently, the most chubby and +pink-faced and blue-eyed of Santa Clauses, +in purple velvet trimmed with ermine, with +long white hair and a long white beard.</p> + +<p>I can’t begin to name to you all the fruits +of that magic tree. From Maida, there +came to Rosie a big golden cage with a pair +of canary birds, to Arthur a chest of wonderful +tools, to Dicky a little bookcase full +of beautiful books, to Laura a collection of +sashes and ribbons, to Harold a long train +of cars. For Molly, Betsy and the Clark +twins came so many gifts that you could +hardly count them all—dolls and dolls’ +wardrobes, tiny doll-houses and tinier doll-furniture. +For Tim came a sled and bicycle.</p> + +<p>To Maida came a wonderful set of paper +boxes from Dicky, a long necklace of carved +beads from Arthur, a beautiful blank-book, +with all her candy recipes, beautifully written +out, from Rosie, a warm little pair of +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +knitted bed-shoes from Granny, a quaint, +little, old-fashioned locket from Dr. Pierce—he +said it had once belonged to another +little sick girl who died.</p> + +<p>From Billy came a book. Perhaps you +can fancy how Maida jumped when she read +“The Crystal Ball,” by William Potter, on +the cover. But I do not think you can +imagine how pleased she looked when inside +she read the printed dedication, “To Petronilla.”</p> + +<p>From her father came a beautiful miniature +of her mother, painted on ivory. +The children crowded about her to see the +beautiful face of which Maida had told them +so much. There was the mass of golden +hair which she had described so proudly. +There, too, was a heart-shaped pendant of +diamonds, suspended from a black velvet +ribbon tied close to the white throat.</p> + +<p>The children looked at the picture. Then +they looked at each other.</p> + +<p>But Maida did not notice. She was +watching eagerly while Dr. Pierce and Billy +and her father opened her gifts to them.</p> + +<p>She was afraid they would not understand. +“They’re to save time, you see, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +when you want to shave in a hurry,” she +explained.</p> + +<p>“Maida,” her father said gravely, “that +is a very thoughtful gift. It’s strange +when you come to think of it, as busy a man +as I am and with all the friends I have, nobody +has ever thought to give me a safety +razor.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know how I ever managed to get +along without one,” Dr. Pierce declared, his +curls bobbing.</p> + +<p>“As for me—I shall probably save about +a third of my income in the future,” Billy +announced.</p> + +<p>All three were so pleased that they +laughed for a long time.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to give you another Christmas +present, Maida,” Mr. Westabrook said suddenly, +“I’m going to give us both one—a +vacation. We’re going to start for Europe, +week after next.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, papa, papa, how lovely!” Maida +said. “Shall we see Venice again? But +how can I give up my little shop and my +friends?”</p> + +<p>“Maida going away!” the children exclaimed. +“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” “But +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +Mr. Westabrook, isn’t Maida coming back +again?” Rosie asked. “How I shall miss +her!” Laura chimed in.</p> + +<p>“Take my lamb away,” Granny wailed. +“Sure, she’ll be tuk sick in those woild +counthries! You’ll have to take me wid +you, Misther Westabrook—only—only—” +She did not finish her sentence but her eyes +went anxiously to her daughter’s face.</p> + +<p>“No, Granny, you’re not to go,” Mr. +Westabrook said decisively; “You’re to stay +right here with your daughter and her children. +You’re all to run the shop and live +over it. Maida’s old enough and well +enough to take care of herself now. And I +think she’d better begin to take care of me +as well. Don’t you think so, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I do, papa. If you need me, +I want to.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Westabrook,” Molly broke into the +conversation determinedly, “did you ever +give Maida a pair of Shetland ponies?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Westabrook bent on the Robin the +most amused of his smiles.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said.</p> + +<p>“And an automobile?” Tim asked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Westabrook turned to the Bogle. +“Yes,” he said, a little puzzled. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And did Maida’s mother have a gold +brush with her initials in diamonds on it?” +Rosie asked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Westabrook roared. “Yes,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“And have you got twelve peacocks, two +of them white?” Arthur asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And has Maida a little theater of her +own and a doll-house as big as a cottage?” +Laura asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And did she have a May-party last year +that she invited over four hundred children +to?” Harold asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And did you give her her weight in silver +dollars once?” Mabel asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And a family of twenty dolls?” Dorothy +asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you shall see all these things when +we come back,” Mr. Westabrook promised.</p> + +<p>“Then why did she run away?” Betsy +asked solemnly.</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed.</p> + +<p>“I always said Maida was a princess in +disguise,” Dicky maintained, “and now I +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +suppose she’s going back and be a princess +again.”</p> + +<p>“Dicky was the first friend I made, +papa,” Maida said, smiling at her first +friend.</p> + +<p>“But you’ll come back some time, won’t +you, Maida?” Dicky begged.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Dicky,” Maida answered, +“<span style="font-style: italic">I’ll</span> +come back.”</p> + +<p>Yes, Maida did come back. And what fun +they all have, the Little Six in their private +quarters, and the Big Six with their picnics, +and their adventures with the Gypsies, is +told in <span style="font-style: italic">Maida’s Little House</span>.<br /></p> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">THE END<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p style="font-size: 125%; text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">THE CAROLYN WELLS BOOKS FOR GIRLS</p> +<hr /> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Fresh, spirited stories that the modern small girl will take to her +heart these well known books by a famous author have won an important +place in the field of juvenile fiction.</p> + +<p style="margin-top:2.0em; text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">THE FAMOUS “PATTY” BOOKS</p> +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" summary="Patty Books" width="60%"> +<tr><td>Patty Fairfield</td><td>Patty’s Motor Car</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty at Home</td><td>Patty’s Butterfly Days</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty in the City</td><td>Patty’s Social Season</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty’s Summer Days</td><td>Patty’s Suitors</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty in Paris</td><td>Patty’s Romance</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty’s Friend</td><td>Patty’s Fortune</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty’s Pleasure Trip</td><td>Patty Blossom</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty’s Success</td><td>Patty—Bride</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" align="center">Patty and Azalea</td></tr> +</table> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 2.00em; margin-bottom: 1.00em">THE MARJORIE BOOKS</p> +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" summary="Marjorie Books" width="60%"> +<tr><td>Marjorie’s Vacation</td><td>Marjorie in Command</td></tr> +<tr><td>Marjorie’s Busy Days</td><td>Marjorie’s Maytime</td></tr> +<tr><td>Marjorie’s New Friend</td><td>Marjorie at Seacote</td></tr> +</table> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 2.00em ;margin-bottom: 1.00em">TWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIES</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Two Little Women<br /> +Two Little Women and Treasure House<br /> +Two Little Women on a Holiday +</p> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 2.00em; margin-bottom: 1.00em">DORRANCE SERIES</p> +<p style="text-align: center">The Dorrance Domain<br /> +Dorrance Doings +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p style="font-size: 125%; text-align: center; ">THE MARY JANE SERIES</p> +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">By CLARA INGRAM JUDSON</p> +<hr /> +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">Each Volume Complete in Itself.</p> +<hr /> +<p>Take a trip with Mary Jane. She is the heroine of this popular +series for young girls. You’ll find her a charming traveling +companion. Her good nature, her abounding interest in her +friends and surroundings, and her fascinating adventures both +at home and abroad have endeared her to thousands all over +the country.</p> + +<blockquote><p>MARY JANE—HER BOOK<br /> +MARY JANE—HER VISIT<br /> +MARY JANE’S KINDERGARTEN<br /> +MARY JANE DOWN SOUTH<br /> +MARY JANE’S CITY HOME<br /> +MARY JANE IN NEW ENGLAND<br /> +MARY JANE’S COUNTRY HOME<br /> +MARY JANE AT SCHOOL<br /> +MARY JANE IN CANADA<br /> +MARY JANE’S SUMMER FUN<br /> +MARY JANE’S WINTER SPORTS<br /> +MARY JANE’S VACATION<br /> +MARY JANE IN ENGLAND<br /> +MARY JANE IN SCOTLAND<br /> +MARY JANE IN FRANCE<br /> +MARY JANE IN SWITZERLAND<br /> +MARY JANE IN ITALY<br /> +MARY JANE IN SPAIN<br /> +MARY JANE’S FRIENDS IN HOLLAND</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p style="font-size: 125%; text-align: center; ">THE BEVERLY GRAY STORIES</p> +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">by <br />CLAIR BANK</p> +<hr /> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">These stories, full of the fun and thrills of college +life, with an exciting mystery in each, have unusual +appeal for the modern girl.</p> + +<blockquote><p>BEVERLY GRAY, FRESHMAN<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY, SOPHOMORE<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY, JUNIOR<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY, SENIOR<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY’S CAREER<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY ON A WORLD CRUISE<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY IN THE ORIENT<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY ON A TREASURE HUNT<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY’S RETURN<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY, REPORTER<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY’S ROMANCE</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p style="font-size: 125%; text-align: center; ">MELODY LANE MYSTERY STORIES</p> +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">By <br />LILIAN GARIS</p> +<hr /> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Thrills, secrets, ghosts—adventures that +will fascinate you seem to surround +pretty Carol Duncan. A vivid, plucky girl, her cleverness at solving mysteries +will captivate and thrill every mystery fan.</p> +<p></p> +<p>THE GHOST OF MELODY LANE</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">Three people see the "ghost" that wanders in the grove carrying a waxy white +rose. And in the end Carol finds the rose and the ghost too!</p> + +<p>THE FORBIDDEN TRAIL</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">Carol has several bad frights before she clears up the mystery that keeps +the family at Splatter Castle unhappy and afraid.</p> + +<p>THE TOWER SECRET</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">The winking lights from the old tower defy explanation. Had the engaging +circus family anything to do with them?</p> + +<p>THE WILD WARNING</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">What power did the strange, wild warning in the woods have over Polly +Flinders? Carol brings happiness to three families when she solves this mystery.</p> + +<p>THE TERROR AT MOANING CLIFF</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">Carol finally tracks the uncanny “haunts” in the great, bleak house on +“moaning cliff” to their source.</p> + +<p>THE DRAGON OF THE HILLS</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">When Carol runs a tea shop for a friend, a baffling mystery comes to her with +her first customer.</p> + +<p>THE MYSTERY OF STINGYMAN’S ALLEY</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">An adorable child is left at the day nursery where Carol works—who are all +the mysterious people trying to claim her?</p> + +<p>THE SECRET OF THE KASHMIR SHAWL</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em"><span style="font-style: italic">A sequel to </span>“The Wild +Warning”<br />A shawl brought from Egypt brings with it an absorbing mystery which +Cecy, with the aid of Polly Flinders, finally solves.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p style="font-size: 125%; text-align: center; ">FAIRY TALES</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-style: italic">and +tales of wonder that are favorites of young people the world over</span> +</p> + +<table summary="Fairy Tales" width="80%"> +<tr><td>ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE</td><td>Miss Mulock</td></tr> +<tr><td>ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES</td><td>Hans Christian Andersen</td></tr> +<tr><td>AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND</td><td>George MacDonald</td></tr> +<tr><td>THE BLUE FAIRY BOOK</td><td>Andrew Lang</td></tr> +<tr><td>ENGLISH FAIRY TALES</td><td>Joseph Jacobs</td></tr> +<tr><td>GRANNY’S WONDERFUL CHAIR</td><td>Frances Browne</td></tr> +<tr><td>GRIMM’S FAIRY TALES</td><td>The Brothers Grimm</td></tr> +<tr><td>JAPANESE FAIRY TALES</td><td>Yei Theadora Ozaki</td></tr> +<tr><td>THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE</td><td>Miss Mulock</td></tr> +<tr><td>PINOCCHIO</td><td>C. Collodi</td></tr> +<tr><td>THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE</td><td>George MacDonald</td></tr> +<tr><td>THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN</td><td>George MacDonald</td></tr> +<tr><td>THE RED FAIRY BOOK</td><td>Andrew Lang</td></tr> +<tr><td>THE WATER BABIES</td><td>Charles Kingsley</td></tr> +</table> + +<table style="margin-top: 2.00em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" summary="Publisher" width="60%"> +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center"><span style="font-size: 125%">GROSSET &. DUNLAP</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td style="text-align: left"><span style="font-style: italic;">Publishers</span></td> + <td style="text-align: right"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">New York</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Maida's Little Shop, by Inez Haynes Irwin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP *** + +***** This file should be named 17530-h.htm or 17530-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/3/17530/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Maida's Little Shop + +Author: Inez Haynes Irwin + +Release Date: January 16, 2006 [EBook #17530] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[Illustration: Maida’s Little Shop] + + +Maida’s Little Shop +By +Inez Haynes Irwin + +Author of +MAIDA'S LITTLE HOUSE, +MAIDA'S LITTLE SCHOOL, ETC. + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers +New York + +Copyright, 1909, by +B. W. HUEBSCH + + + +TO +LITTLE P. D. +FROM +BIG P. D. + + + +CONTENTS + +Chapter I: The Ride +Chapter II: Cleaning Up +Chapter III: The First Day +Chapter IV: The Second Day +Chapter V: Primrose Court +Chapter VI: Two Calls +Chapter VII: Trouble +Chapter VIII: A Rainy Day +Chapter IX: Work +Chapter X: Play +Chapter XI: Halloween +Chapter XII: The First Snow +Chapter XIII: The Fair +Chapter XIV: Christmas Happenings + + + + + MAIDA’S LITTLE SHOP + + CHAPTER I: THE RIDE + + +Four people sat in the big, shining automobile. Three of them were +men. The fourth was a little girl. The little girl’s name was Maida +Westabrook. The three men were “Buffalo” Westabrook, her father, Dr. +Pierce, her physician, and Billy Potter, her friend. They were +coming from Marblehead to Boston. + +Maida sat in one corner of the back seat gazing dreamily out at the +whirling country. She found it very beautiful and very curious. They +were going so fast that all the reds and greens and yellows of the +autumn trees melted into one variegated band. A moment later they +came out on the ocean. And now on the water side were two other +streaks of color, one a spongy blue that was sky, another a clear +shining blue that was sea. Maida half-shut her eyes and the whole +world seemed to flash by in ribbons. + +“May I get out for a moment, papa?” she asked suddenly in a thin +little voice. “I’d like to watch the waves.” + +“All right,” her father answered briskly. To the chauffeur he said, +“Stop here, Henri.” To Maida, “Stay as long as you want, Posie.” + +“Posie” was Mr. Westabrook’s pet-name for Maida. + +Billy Potter jumped out and helped Maida to the ground. The three +men watched her limp to the sea-wall. + +She was a child whom you would have noticed anywhere because of her +luminous, strangely-quiet, gray eyes and because of the ethereal +look given to her face by a floating mass of hair, pale-gold and +tendrilly. And yet I think you would have known that she was a sick +little girl at the first glance. When she moved, it was with a great +slowness as if everything tired her. She was so thin that her hands +were like claws and her cheeks scooped in instead of out. She was +pale, too, and somehow her eyes looked too big. Perhaps this was +because her little heart-shaped face seemed too small. + +“You’ve got to find something that will take up her mind, Jerome,” +Dr. Pierce said, lowering his voice, “and you’ve got to be quick +about it. Just what Greinschmidt feared has come—that languor—that +lack of interest in everything. You’ve got to find something for her +to _do_.” + +Dr. Pierce spoke seriously. He was a round, short man, just exactly +as long any one way as any other. He had springy gray curls all over +his head and a nose like a button. Maida thought that he looked like +a very old but a very jolly and lovable baby. When he laughed—and he +was always laughing with Maida—he shook all over like jelly that has +been turned out of a jar. His very curls bobbed. But it seemed to +Maida that no matter how hard he chuckled, his eyes were always +serious when they rested on her. + +Maida was very fond of Dr. Pierce. She had known him all her life. +He had gone to college with her father. He had taken care of her +health ever since Dr. Greinschmidt left. Dr. Greinschmidt was the +great physician who had come all the way across the ocean from +Germany to make Maida well. Before the operation Maida could not +walk. Now she could walk easily. Ever since she could remember she +had always added to her prayers at night a special request that she +might some day be like other little girls. Now she was like other +little girls, except that she limped. And yet now that she could do +all the things that other little girls did, she no longer cared to +do them—not even hopping and skipping, which she had always expected +would be the greatest fun in the world. Maida herself thought this +very strange. + +“But what can I find for her to do?” “Buffalo” Westabrook said. + +You could tell from the way he asked this question that he was not +accustomed to take advice from other people. Indeed, he did not look +it. But he looked his name. You would know at once why the +cartoonists always represented him with the head of a buffalo; why, +gradually, people had forgotten that his first name was Jerome and +referred to him always as “Buffalo” Westabrook. + +Like the buffalo, his head was big and powerful and emerged from the +midst of a shaggy mane. But it was the way in which it was set on +his tremendous shoulders that gave him his nickname. When he spoke +to you, he looked as if he were about to charge. And the glance of +his eyes, set far back of a huge nose, cut through you like a pair +of knives. + +It surprised Maida very much when she found that people stood in awe +of her father. It had never occurred to her to be afraid of him. + +“I’ve racked my brains to entertain her,” “Buffalo” Westabrook went +on. “I’ve bought her every gimcrack that’s made for children—her +nursery looks like a toy factory. I’ve bought her prize ponies, +prize dogs and prize cats—rabbits, guinea-pigs, dancing mice, +talking parrots, marmosets—there’s a young menagerie at the place in +the Adirondacks. I’ve had a doll-house and a little theater built +for her at Pride’s. She has her own carriage, her own automobile, +her own railroad car. She can have her own flying-machine if she +wants it. I’ve taken her off on trips. I’ve taken her to the theater +and the circus. I’ve had all kinds of nurses and governesses and +companions, but they’ve been mostly failures. Granny Flynn’s the +best of the hired people, but of course Granny’s old. I’ve had other +children come to stay with her. Selfish little brutes they all +turned out to be! They’d play with her toys and ignore her +completely. And this fall I brought her to Boston, hoping her +cousins would rouse her. But the Fairfaxes decided suddenly to go +abroad this winter. If she’d only express a desire for something, +I’d get it for her—if it were one of the moons of Jupiter.” + +“It isn’t anything you can _give_ her,” Dr. Pierce said impatiently; +“you must find something for her to _do_.” + +“Say, Billy, you’re an observant little duck. Can’t you tell us +what’s the matter?” “Buffalo” Westabrook smiled down at the third +man of the party. + +“The trouble with the child,” Billy Potter said promptly, “is that +everything she’s had has been ‘prize.’ Not that it’s spoiled her at +all. Petronilla is as simple as a princess in a fairy-tale.” + +“Petronilla” was Billy Potter’s pet-name for Maida. + +“Yes, she’s wonderfully simple,” Dr. Pierce agreed. “Poor little +thing, she’s lived in a world of bottles and splints and bandages. +She’s never had a chance to realize either the value or the +worthlessness of things.” + +“And then,” Billy went on, “nobody’s ever used an ounce of +imagination in entertaining the poor child.” + +“Imagination!” “Buffalo” Westabrook growled. “What has imagination +to do with it?” + +Billy grinned. + +Next to her father and Granny Flynn, Maida loved Billy Potter better +than anybody in the world. He was so little that she could never +decide whether he was a boy or a man. His chubby, dimply face was +the pinkest she had ever seen. From it twinkled a pair of blue eyes +the merriest she had ever seen. And falling continually down into +his eyes was a great mass of flaxen hair, the most tousled she had +ever seen. + +Billy Potter lived in New York. He earned his living by writing for +newspapers and magazines. Whenever there was a fuss in Wall +Street—and the papers always blamed “Buffalo” Westabrook if this +happened—Billy Potter would have a talk with Maida’s father. Then he +wrote up what Mr. Westabrook said and it was printed somewhere. Men +who wrote for the newspapers were always trying to talk with Mr. +Westabrook. Few of them ever got the chance. But “Buffalo” +Westabrook never refused to talk with Billy Potter. Indeed, the two +men were great friends. + +“He’s one of the few reporters who can turn out a good story and +tell it straight as I give it to him,” Maida had once heard her +father say. Maida knew that Billy could turn out good stories—he had +turned out a great many for her. + +“What has imagination to do with it?” Mr. Westabrook repeated. + +“It would have a great deal to do with it, I fancy,” Billy Potter +answered, “if somebody would only imagine the right thing.” + +“Well, imagine it yourself,” Mr. Westabrook snarled. “Imagination +seems to be the chief stock-in-trade of you newspaper men.” + +Billy grinned. When Billy smiled, two things happened—one to you and +the other to him. Your spirits went up and his eyes seemed to +disappear. Maida said that Billy’s eyes “skrinkled up.” The effect +was so comic that she always laughed—not with him but at him. + +“All right,” Billy agreed pleasantly; “I’ll put the greatest +creative mind of the century to work on the job.” + +“You put it to work at once, young man,” Dr. Pierce said. “The thing +I’m trying to impress on you both is that you can’t wait too long.” + +“Buffalo” Westabrook stirred uneasily. His fierce, blue eyes +retreated behind the frown in his thick brows until all you could +see were two shining points. He watched Maida closely as she limped +back to the car. “What are you thinking of, Posie?” he asked. + +“Oh, nothing, father,” Maida said, smiling faintly. This was the +answer she gave most often to her father’s questions. “Is there +anything you want, Posie?” he was sure to ask every morning, or, +“What would you like me to get you to-day, little daughter?” The +answer was invariable, given always in the same soft, thin little +voice: “Nothing, father—thank you.” + +“Where are we now, Jerome?” Dr. Pierce asked suddenly. + +Mr. Westabrook looked about him. “Getting towards Revere.” + +“Let’s go home through Charlestown,” Dr. Pierce suggested. “How +would you like to see the house where I was born, Maida—that old +place on Warrington Street I told you about yesterday. I think you’d +like it, Pinkwink.” + +“Pinkwink” was Dr. Pierce’s pet-name for Maida. + +“Oh, I’d love to see it.” A little thrill of pleasure sparkled in +Maida’s flat tones. “I’d just love to.” + +Dr. Pierce gave some directions to the chauffeur. + +For fifteen minutes or more the men talked business. They had come +away from the sea and the streams of yellow and red and green trees. +Maida pillowed her head on the cushions and stared fixedly at the +passing streets. But her little face wore a dreamy, withdrawn look +as if she were seeing something very far away. Whenever “Buffalo” +Westabrook’s glance shot her way, his thick brows pulled together +into the frown that most people dreaded to face. + +“Now down the hill and then to the left,” Dr. Pierce instructed +Henri. + +Warrington Street was wide and old-fashioned. Big elms marching in a +double file between the fine old houses, met in an arch above their +roofs. At intervals along the curbstones were hitching-posts of +iron, most of them supporting the head of a horse with a ring in his +nose. One, the statue of a negro boy with his arms lifted above his +head, seemed to beg the honor of holding the reins. Beside these +hitching-posts were rectangular blocks of granite—stepping-stones +for horseback riders and carriage folk. + +“There, Pinkwink,” Dr. Pierce said; “that old house on the +corner—stop here, Henri, please—that’s where I was brought up. The +old swing used to hang from that tree and it was from that big bough +stretching over the fence that I fell and broke my arm.” + +Maida’s eyes brightened. “And there’s the garret window where the +squirrels used to come in,” she exclaimed. + +“The same!” Dr. Pierce laughed. “You don’t forget anything, do you? +My goodness me! How small the house looks and how narrow the street +has grown! Even the trees aren’t as tall as they should be.” + +Maida stared. The trees looked very high indeed to her. And she +thought the street quite wide enough for anybody, the houses very +stately. + +“Now show me the school,” she begged. + +“Just a block or two, Henri,” Dr. Pierce directed. + +The car stopped in front of a low, rambling wooden building with a +yard in front. + +“That’s where you covered the ceiling with spit-balls,” Maida asked. + +“The same!” Dr. Pierce laughed heartily at the remembrance. It +seemed to Maida that she had never seen his curls bob quite so +furiously before. + +“It’s one of the few wooden, primary buildings left in the city,” he +explained to the two men. “It can’t last many years now. It’s +nothing but a rat-trap but how I shall hate to see it go!” + +Opposite the school was a big, wide court. Shaded with beautiful +trees—maples beginning to flame, horse-chestnuts a little browned, +it was lined with wooden toy houses, set back of fenced-in yards and +veiled by climbing vines. Pigeons were flying about, alighting now +and then to peck at the ground or to preen their green and purple +necks. Boys were spinning tops. Girls were jumping rope. The dust +they kicked up had a sweet, earthy smell in Maida’s nostrils. As she +stared, charmed with the picture, a little girl in a scarlet cape +and a scarlet hat came climbing up over one of the fences. Quick, +active as a squirrel, she disappeared into the next yard. + +“Primrose Court!” Dr. Pierce exclaimed. “Well, well, well!” + +“Primrose Court,” Maida repeated. “Do primroses grow there?” + +“Bless your heart, no,” Dr. Pierce laughed; “it was named after a +man called Primrose who used to own a great deal of the +neighborhood.” + +But Maida was scarcely listening. “Oh, what a cunning little shop!” +she exclaimed. “There, opposite the court. What a perfectly darling +little place!” + +“Good Lord! that’s Connors’,” Dr. Pierce explained. “Many a reckless +penny I’ve squandered there, my dear. Connors was the funniest, old, +bent, dried-up man. I wonder who keeps it now.” + +As if in answer to his question, a wrinkled old lady came to the +window to take a paper-doll from the dusty display there. + +“What are those yellow things in that glass jar?” Maida asked. + +“Pickled limes,” Dr. Pierce responded promptly. “How I used to love +them!” + +“Oh, father, buy me a pickled lime,” Maida pleaded. “I never had one +in my life and I’ve been crazy to taste one ever since I read +‘Little Women.’” + +“All right,” Mr. Westabrook said. “Let’s come in and treat Maida to +a pickled lime.” + +A bell rang discordantly as they opened the door. Its prolonged +clangor finally brought the old lady from the room at the back. She +looked in surprise at the three men in their automobile coats and at +the little lame girl. + +Coming in from the bright sunshine, the shop seemed unpleasantly +dark to Maida. After a while she saw that its two windows gave it +light enough but that it was very confused, cluttery and dusty. + +Mr. Westabrook bought four pickled limes and everybody ate—three of +them with enjoyment, Billy with many wry faces and a decided, +“Stung!” after the first taste. + +“I like pickled limes,” Maida said after they had started for +Boston. “What a funny little place that was! Oh, how I would like to +keep a little shop just like it.” + +Billy Potter started. For a moment it seemed as if he were about to +speak. But instead, he stared hard at Maida, falling gradually into +a brown study. From time to time he came out of it long enough to +look sharply at her. The sparkle had all gone out of her face. She +was pale and dream-absorbed again. + +Her father studied her with increasing anxiety as they neared the +big house on Beacon Street. Dr. Pierce’s face was shadowed too. + +“Eureka! I’ve found it!” Billy exclaimed as they swept past the +State House. “I’ve got it, Mr. Westabrook.” + +“Got what?” + +Billy did not answer at once. The automobile had stopped in front of +a big red-brick house. Over the beautifully fluted columns that held +up the porch hung a brilliant red vine. Lavender-colored glass, here +and there in the windows, made purple patches on the lace of the +curtains. + +“Got what?” Mr. Westabrook repeated impatiently. + +“That little job of the imagination that you put me on a few moments +ago,” Billy answered mysteriously. “In a moment,” he added with a +significant look at Maida. “You stay too, Dr. Pierce. I want your +approval.” + +The door of the beautiful old house had opened and a man in livery +came out to assist Maida. On the threshold stood an old +silver-haired woman in a black-silk gown, a white cap and apron, a little +black shawl pinned about her shoulders. + +“How’s my lamb?” she asked tenderly of Maida. + +“Oh, pretty well,” Maida said dully. “Oh, Granny,” she added with a +sudden flare of enthusiasm, “I saw the cunningest little shop. I +think I’d rather tend shop than do anything else in the world.” + +Billy Potter smiled all over his pink face. He followed Mr. +Westabrook and Dr. Pierce into the drawing-room. + + ---------------------- + +Maida went upstairs with Granny Flynn. + +Granny Flynn had come straight to the Westabrook house from the boat +that brought her from Ireland years ago. She had come to America in +search of a runaway daughter but she had never found her. She had +helped to nurse Maida’s mother in the illness of which she died and +she had always taken such care of Maida herself that Maida loved her +dearly. Sometimes when they were alone, Maida would call her “Dame,” +because, she said, “Granny looks just like the ‘Dame’ who comes into +fairy-tales.” + +Granny Flynn was very little, very bent, very old. “A t’ousand and +noine, sure,” she always answered when Maida asked her how old. Her +skin had cracked into a hundred wrinkles and her long sharp nose and +her short sharp chin almost met. But the wrinkles surrounded a pair +of eyes that were a twinkling, youthful blue. And her down-turned +nose and up-growing chin could not conceal or mar the lovely +sweetness of her smile. + +Just before Maida went to bed that night, she was surprised by a +visit from her father. + +“Posie,” he said, sitting down on her bed, “did you really mean it +to-day when you said you would like to keep a little shop?” + +“Oh, yes, father! I’ve been thinking it over ever since I came home +from our ride this afternoon. A little shop, you know, just like the +one we saw to-day.” + +“Very well, dear, you shall keep a shop. You shall keep that very +one. I’m going to buy out the business for you and put you in charge +there. I’ve got to be in New York pretty steadily for the next three +months and I’ve decided that I’ll send you and Granny to live in the +rooms over the shop. I’ll fix the place all up for you, give you +plenty of money to stock it and then I expect you to run it and make +it pay.” + +Maida sat up in bed with a vigor that surprised her father. She +shook her hands—a gesture that, with her, meant great delight. She +laughed. It was the first time in months that a happy note had +pealed in her laughter. “Oh, father, dear, how good you are to me! +I’m just crazy to try it and I know I can make it pay—if hard work +helps.” + +“All right. That’s settled. But listen carefully to what I’m going +to say, Posie. I can’t have this getting into the papers, you know. +To prevent that, you’re to play a game while you’re working in the +shop—just as princesses in fairy-tales had to play games sometimes. +You’re going _in disguise_. Do you understand?” + +“Yes, father, I understand.” + +“You’re to pretend that you belong to Granny Flynn, that you’re her +grandchild. You won’t have to tell any lies about it. When the +children in the neighborhood hear you call her ‘Granny,’ they’ll +simply take it for granted that you’re her son’s child. + +“Or I can pretend I’m poor Granny’s lost daughter’s little girl,” +Maida suggested. + +“If you wish. Billy Potter’s going to stay here in Boston and help +you. You’re to call on him, Posie, if you get into any snarl. But I +hope you’ll try to settle all your own difficulties before turning +to anybody else. Do you understand?” + +“Yes, father. Father, dear, I’m so happy. Does Granny know?” + +“Yes.” + +Maida heaved an ecstatic sigh. “I’m afraid I shan’t get to sleep +to-night—just thinking of it.” + +But she did sleep and very hard—the best sleep she had known since +her operation. And she dreamed that she opened a shop—a big shop +this was—on the top of a huge white cloud. She dreamed that her +customers were all little boy and girl angels with floating, golden +curls and shining rainbow-colored wings. She dreamed that she sold +nothing but cake. She used to cut generous slices from an angel-cake +as big as the golden dome of the Boston state house. It was very +delicious—all honey and jelly and ice cream on the inside, and all +frosting, stuck with candies and nuts and fruits, on the outside. + + ---------------------- + +The people on Warrington Street were surprised to learn in the +course of a few days that old Mrs. Murdock had sold out her business +in the little corner store. For over a week, the little place was +shut up. The school children, pouring into the street twice a day, +had to go to Main Street for their candy and lead pencils. For a +long time all the curtains were kept down. Something was going on +inside, but what, could not be guessed from the outside. Wagons +deposited all kinds of things at the door, rolls of paper, tins of +paint, furniture, big wooden boxes whose contents nobody could +guess. Every day brought more and more workmen and the more there +were, the harder they worked. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, all +the work stopped. + +The next morning when the neighborhood waked up, a freshly-painted +sign had taken the place over the door of the dingy old black and +white one. The lettering was gilt, the background a skyey blue. It +read: + + MAIDA’S LITTLE SHOP + + + + + + CHAPTER II: CLEANING UP + + +The next two weeks were the busiest Maida ever knew. + +In the first place she must see Mrs. Murdock and talk things over. +In the second place, she must examine all the stock that Mrs. +Murdock left. In the third place, she must order new stock from the +wholesale places. And in the fourth place, the rooms must be made +ready for her and Granny to live in. It was hard work, but it was +great fun. + +First, Mrs. Murdock called, at Billy’s request, at his rooms on +Mount Vernon Street. Granny and Maida were there to meet her. + +Mrs. Murdock was a tall, thin, erect old lady. Her bright black eyes +were piercing enough, but it seemed to Maida that the round-glassed +spectacles, through which she examined them all, were even more so. + +“I’ve made out a list of things for the shop that I’m all out of,” +she began briskly. “You’ll know what the rest is from what’s left on +the shelves. Now about buying—there’s a wagon comes round once a +month and I’ve told them to keep right on a-coming even though I +ain’t there. They’ll sell you your candy, pickles, pickled limes and +all sich stuff. You’ll have to buy your toys in Boston—your paper, +pens, pencils, rubbers and the like also, but not at the same places +where you git the toys. I’ve put all the addresses down on the list. +I don’t see how you can make any mistakes.” + +“How long will it take you to get out of the shop?” Billy asked. + +Maida knew that Billy enjoyed Mrs. Murdock, for often, when he +looked at that lady, his eyes “skrinkled up,” although there was not +a smile on his face. + +“A week is all I need,” Mrs. Murdock declared. “If it worn’t for +other folks who are keeping me waiting, I’d have that hull place +fixed as clean as a whistle in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Now I’ll +put a price on everything, so’s you won’t be bothered what to +charge. There’s some things I don’t ever git, because folks buy too +many of them and it’s sich an everlasting bother keeping them in +stock. But you’re young and spry, and maybe you won’t mind jumping +about for every Tom, Dick and Harry. But, remember,” she added in +parting, “don’t git expensive things. Folks in that neighborhood +ain’t got no money to fool away. Git as many things as you can for a +cent a-piece. Git some for five and less for ten and nothing for +over a quarter. But you must allus callulate to buy some things to +lose money on. I mean the truck you put in the window jess to make +folks look in. It gits dusty and fly-specked before you know it and +there’s an end on it. I allus send them to the Home for Little +Wanderers at Christmas time.” + +Early one morning, a week later, a party of three—Granny Flynn, +Billy and Maida—walked up Beacon Street and across the common to the +subway. Maida had never walked so far in her life. But her father +had told her that if she wanted to keep the shop, she must give up +her carriage and her automobile. That was not hard. She was willing +to give up anything that she owned for the little shop. + +They left the car at City Square in Charlestown and walked the rest +of the way. It was Saturday, a brilliant morning in a beautiful +autumn. All the children in the neighborhood were out playing. Maida +looked at each one of them as she passed. They seemed as wonderful +as fairy beings to her—for would they not all be her customers soon? +And yet, such was her excitement, she could not remember one face +after she had passed it. A single picture remained in her mind—a +picture of a little girl standing alone in the middle of the court. +Black-haired, black-eyed, a vivid spot of color in a scarlet cape +and a scarlet hat, the child was scattering bread-crumbs to a flock +of pigeons. The pigeons did not seem afraid of her. They flew close +to her feet. One even alighted on her shoulder. + +“It makes me think of St. Mark’s in Venice,” Maida said to Billy. + +But, little girl—scarlet cape—flocks of doves—St. Mark’s, all went +out of her head entirely when she unlocked the door of the little +shop. + +“Oh, oh, oh!” she cried, “how nice and clean it looks!” + +The shop seemed even larger than she remembered it. The confused, +dusty, cluttery look had gone. But with its dull paint and its +blackened ceiling, it still seemed dark and dingy. + +Maida ran behind the counter, peeped into the show cases, poked her +head into the window, drew out the drawers that lined the wall, +pulled covers from the boxes on the shelves. There is no knowing +where her investigations would have ended if Billy had not said: + +“See here, Miss Curiosity, we can’t put in the whole morning on the +shop. This is a preliminary tour of investigation. Come and see the +rest of it. This way to the living-room!” + +The living-room led from the shop—a big square room, empty now, of +course. Maida limped over to the window. “Oh, oh, oh!” she cried; +“did you ever see such a darling little yard?” + +“It surely is little,” Billy agreed, “not much bigger than a pocket +handkerchief, is it?” + +And yet, scrap of a place as the yard was, it had an air of +completeness, a pretty quaintness. Two tiny brick walks curved from +the door to the gate. On either side of these spread out microscopic +flower-beds, crowded tight with plants. Late-blooming dahlias and +asters made spots of starry color in the green. A vine, running over +the door to the second story, waved like a crimson banner dropped +from the window. + +“The old lady must have been fond of flowers,” Billy Potter said. He +squinted his near-sighted blue eyes and studied the bunches of +green. “Syringa bush in one corner. Lilac bush in the other. +Nasturtiums at the edges. Morning-glories running up the fence. +Sunflowers in between. My, won’t it be fun to see them all racing up +in the spring!” + +Maida jumped up and down at the thought. She could not jump like +other children. Indeed, this was the first time that she had ever +tried. It was as if her feet were like flat-irons. Granny Flynn +turned quickly away and Billy bit his lips. + +“I know just how I’m going to fix this room up for you, Petronilla,” +Billy said, nodding his head mysteriously. “Now let’s go into the +kitchen.” + +The kitchen led from the living-room. Billy exclaimed when he saw it +and Maida shook her hands, but it was Granny who actually screamed +with delight. + +Much bigger than the living-room, it had four windows with sunshine +pouring in through every one of them. But it was not the four +windows nor yet the sunshine that made the sensation—it was the +stone floor. + +“We’ll put a carpet on it if you think it’s too cold, Granny,” Billy +suggested immediately. + +“Oh, lave it be, Misther Billy,” Granny begged. “’Tis loike me ould +home in Oireland. Sure ’tis homesick Oi am this very minut looking +at ut.” + +“All right,” Billy agreed cheerfully. “What you say goes, Granny. +Now upstairs to the sleeping-rooms.” + +To get to the second floor they climbed a little stairway not more +than three feet wide, with steps very high, most of them triangular +in shape because the stairway had to turn so often. And +upstairs—after they got there—consisted of three rooms, two big and +square and light, and one smaller and darker. + +“The small room is to be made into a bathroom,” Billy explained, +“and these two big ones are to be your bedrooms. Which one will you +have, Maida?” + +Maida examined both rooms carefully. “Well, I don’t care for myself +which I have,” she said. “But it does seem as if there were a +teeny-weeny more sun in this one. I think Granny ought to have it, for +she loves the sunshine on her old bones. You know, Billy, Granny and I +have the greatest fun about our bones. Hers are all wrong because +they’re so old, and mine are all wrong because they’re so young.” + +“All right,” Billy agreed. “Sunshiny one for Granny, shady one for +you. That’s settled! I hope you realize, Miss Maida, Elizabeth, +Fairfax, Petronilla, Pinkwink, Posie Westabrook what perfectly bully +rooms these are! They’re as old as Noah.” + +“I’m glad they’re old,” Maida said. “But of course they must be. +This house was here when Dr. Pierce was a little boy. And that must +have been a long, long, long time ago.” + +“Just look at the floors,” Billy went on admiringly. “See how uneven +they are. You’ll have to walk straight here, Petronilla, to keep +from falling down. That old wooden wainscoting is simply charming. +That’s a nice old fireplace too. And these old doors are perfect.” + +Granny Flynn was working the latch of one of the old doors with her +wrinkled hands. “Manny’s the toime Oi’ve snibbed a latch loike that +in Oireland,” she said, and she smiled so hard that her very +wrinkles seemed to twinkle. + +“And look at the windows, Granny,” Billy said. “Sixteen panes of +glass each. I hope you’ll make Petronilla wash them.” + +“Oh, Granny, will you let me wash the windows?” Maida asked +ecstatically. + +“When you’re grand and sthrong,” Granny promised. + +“I know just how I’ll furnish the room,” Billy said half to himself. + +“Oh, Billy, tell me!” Maida begged. + +“Can’t,” he protested mischievously. “You’ve got to wait till it’s +all finished before you see hide or hair of it.” + +“I know I’ll die of curiosity,” Maida protested. “But then of course +I shall be very busy with my own business.” + +“Ah, yes,” Billy replied. “Now that you’ve embarked on a mercantile +career, Miss Westabrook, I think you’ll find that you’ll have less +and less time for the decorative side of life.” + +Billy spoke so seriously that most little girls would have been awed +by his manner. But Maida recognized the tone that he always employed +when he was joking her. Beside, his eyes were all “skrinkled up.” +She did not quite understand what the joke was, but she smiled back +at him. + +“Now can we look at the things downstairs?” she pleaded. + +“Yes,” Billy assented. “To-day is a very important day. Behind +locked doors and sealed windows, we’re going to take account of +stock.” + +Granny Flynn remained in the bedrooms to make all kinds of +mysterious measurements, to open and shut doors, to examine closets, +to try window-sashes, even to poke her head up the chimney. + +Downstairs, Billy and Maida opened boxes and boxes and boxes and +drawers and drawers and drawers. Every one of these had been +carefully gone over by the conscientious Mrs. Murdock. Two boxes +bulged with toys, too broken or soiled to be of any use. These they +threw into the ash-barrel at once. What was left they dumped on the +floor. Maida and Billy sat down beside the heap and examined the +things, one by one. Maida had never seen such toys in her life—so +cheap and yet so amusing. + +It was hard work to keep to business with such enchanting temptation +to play all about them. Billy insisted on spinning every top—he got +five going at once—on blowing every balloon—he produced such +dreadful wails of agony that Granny came running downstairs in great +alarm—on jumping with every jump-rope—the short ones tripped him up +and once he sprawled headlong—on playing jackstones—Maida beat him +easily at this—on playing marbles—with a piece of crayon he drew a +ring on the floor—on looking through all the books—he declared that +he was going to buy some little penny-pamphlet fairy-tales as soon +as he could save the money. But in spite of all this fooling, they +really accomplished a great deal. + +They found very few eatables—candy, fruit, or the like. Mrs. Murdock +had wisely sold out this perishable stock. One glass jar, however, +was crammed full of what Billy recognized to be “bulls-eyes”—round +lumps of candy as big as plums and as hard as stones. Billy said +that he loved bulls-eyes better than terrapin or broiled live +lobster, that he had not tasted one since he was “half-past ten.” +For the rest of the day, one of his cheeks stuck out as if he had +the toothache. + +They came across all kinds of odds and ends—lead pencils, +blank-books, an old slate pencil wrapped in gold paper which Billy +insisted on using to draw pictures on a slate—he made this squeak so +that Maida clapped her hands over her ears. They found single pieces +from sets of miniature furniture, a great many dolls, rag-dolls, +china dolls, celluloid dolls, the latest bisque beauties, and two +old-fashioned waxen darlings whose features had all run together +from being left in too great a heat. + +They went through all these things, sorting them into heaps which +they afterwards placed in boxes. At noon, Billy went out and bought +lunch. Still squatting on the floor, the three of them ate +sandwiches and drank milk. Granny said that Maida had never eaten so +much at one meal. + +All this happened on Saturday. Maida did not see the little shop +again until it was finished. + +By Monday the place was as busy as a beehive. Men were putting in a +furnace, putting in a telephone, putting in a bathroom, whitening +the plaster, painting the woodwork. + +Finally came two days of waiting for the paint to dry. “Will it +ever, _ever_, EVER dry?” Maida used to ask Billy in the most +despairing of voices. + +By Thursday, the rooms were ready for their second coat of paint. + +“Oh, Billy, do tell me what color it is—I can’t wait to see it,” +Maida begged. + +But, “Sky-blue-pink” was all she got from Billy. + +Saturday the furniture came. + +In the meantime, Maida had been going to all the principal wholesale +places in Boston picking out new stock. Granny Flynn accompanied her +or stayed at home, according to the way she felt, but Billy never +missed a trip. + +Maida enjoyed this tremendously, although often she had to go to bed +before dark. She said it was the responsibility that tired her. + +To Maida, these big wholesale places seemed like the storehouses of +Santa Claus. In reality they were great halls, lined with parallel +rows of counters. The counters were covered with boxes and the boxes +were filled with toys. Along the aisles between the counters moved +crowds of buyers, busily examining the display. + +It was particularly hard for Maida to choose, because she was +limited by price. She kept recalling Mrs. Murdock’s advice, “Get as +many things as you can for a cent a-piece.” The expensive toys +tempted her, but although she often stopped and looked them +wistfully over, she always ended by going to the cheaper counters. + +“You ought to be thinking how you’ll decorate the windows for your +first day’s sale,” Billy advised her. “You must make it look as +tempting as possible. I think, myself, it’s always a good plan to +display the toys that go with the season.” + +Maida thought of this a great deal after she went to bed at night. +By the end of the week, she could see in imagination just how her +windows were going to look. + +Saturday night, Billy told her that everything was ready, that she +should see the completed house Monday morning. It seemed to Maida +that the Sunday coming in between was the longest day that she had +ever known. + +When she unlocked the door to the shop, the next morning, she let +out a little squeal of joy. “Oh, I would never know it,” she +declared. “How much bigger it looks, and lighter and prettier!” + +Indeed, you would never have known the place yourself. The ceiling +had been whitened. The faded drab woodwork had been painted white. +The walls had been colored a beautiful soft yellow. Back of the +counter a series of shelves, glassed in by sliding doors, ran the +whole length of the wall and nearly to the ceiling. Behind the show +case stood a comfortable, cushioned swivel-chair. + +“The stuff you’ve been buying, Petronilla,” Billy said, pointing to +a big pile of boxes in the corner. “Now, while Granny and I are +putting some last touches to the rooms upstairs, you might be +arranging the window.” + +“That’s just what I planned to do,” Maida said, bubbling with +importance. “But you promise not to interrupt me till it’s all +done.” + +“All right,” Billy agreed, smiling peculiarly. He continued to smile +as he opened the boxes. + +It did not occur to Maida to ask them what they were going to do +upstairs. It did not occur to her even to go up there. From time to +time, she heard Granny and Billy laughing. “One of Billy’s jokes,” +she said to herself. Once she thought she heard the chirp of a bird, +but she would not leave her work to find out what it was. + +When the twelve o’clock whistle blew, she called to Granny and to +Billy to come to see the results of her morning’s labor. + +“I say!” Billy emitted a long loud whistle. + +“Oh, do you like it?” Maida asked anxiously. + +“It’s a grand piece of work, Petronilla,” Billy said heartily. + +The window certainly struck the key-note of the season. Tops of all +sizes and colors were arranged in pretty patterns in the middle. +Marbles of all kinds from the ten-for-a-cent “peeweezers” up to the +most beautiful, colored “agates” were displayed at the sides. +Jump-ropes of variegated colors with handles, brilliantly painted, were +festooned at the back. One of the window shelves had been furnished +like a tiny room. A whole family of dolls sat about on the tiny +sofas and chairs. On the other shelf lay neat piles of blank-books +and paper-blocks, with files of pens, pencils, and rubbers arranged +in a decorative pattern surrounding them all. + +In the show case, fresh candies had been laid out carefully on +saucers and platters of glass. On the counter was a big, flowered +bowl. + +“To-morrow, I’m going to fill that bowl with asters,” Maida +explained. + +“OI’m sure the choild has done foine,” Granny Flynn said, “Oi cudn’t +have done betther mesilf.” + +“Now come and look at your rooms, Petronilla,” Billy begged, his +eyes dancing. + +Maida opened the door leading into the living-room. Then she +squealed her delight, not once, but continuously, like a very happy +little pig. + +The room was as changed as if some good fairy had waved a magic wand +there. All the woodwork had turned a glistening white. The wall +paper blossomed with garlands of red roses, tied with snoods of red +ribbons. At each of the three windows waved sash curtains of a snowy +muslin. At each of the three sashes hung a golden cage with a pair +of golden canaries in it. Along each of the three sills marched pots +of brilliantly-blooming scarlet geraniums. A fire spluttered and +sparkled in the fireplace, and drawn up in front of it was a big +easy chair for Granny, and a small easy one for Maida. Familiar +things lay about, too. In one corner gleamed the cheerful face of +the tall old clock which marked the hours with so silvery a voice +and the moon-changes by such pretty pictures. In another corner +shone the polished surface of a spidery-legged little spinet. Maida +loved both these things almost as much as if they had been human +beings, for her mother and her grandmother and her great-grandmother +had loved them before her. Needed things caught her eyes everywhere. +Here was a little bookcase with all her favorite books. There was a +desk, stocked with business-like-looking blank-books. Even the +familiar table with Granny’s “Book of Saints” stood near the easy +chair. Granny’s spectacles lay on an open page, familiarly marking +the place. + +In the center of the room stood a table set for three. + +“It’s just the dearest place,” Maida said. “Billy, you’ve remembered +everything. I thought I heard a bird peep once, but I was too busy +to think about it.” + +“Want to go upstairs?” Billy asked. + +“I’d forgotten all about bedrooms.” Maida flew up the stairs as if +she had never known a crutch. + +The two bedrooms were very simple, all white—woodwork, furniture, +beds, even the fur rugs on the floor. But they were wonderfully gay +from the beautiful paper that Billy had selected. In Granny’s room, +the walls imitated a flowered chintz. But in Maida’s room every +panel was different. And they all helped to tell the same happy +story of a day’s hunting in the time when men wore long feathered +hats on their curls, when ladies dressed like pictures and all +carried falcons on their wrists. + +“Granny, Granny,” Maida called down to them, “Did you ever see any +place in all your life that felt so _homey_?” + +“I guess it will do,” Billy said in an undertone. + +That night, for the first time, Maida slept in the room over the +little shop. + + + + + + CHAPTER III: THE FIRST DAY + + +If you had gone into the little shop the next day, you would have +seen a very pretty picture. + +First of all, I think you would have noticed the little girl who sat +behind the counter—a little girl in a simple blue-serge dress and a +fresh white “tire”—a little girl with shining excited eyes and +masses of pale-gold hair, clinging in tendrilly rings about a thin, +heart-shaped face—a little girl who kept saying as she turned round +and round in her swivel-chair: + +“Oh, Granny, do you think _anybody’s_ going to buy _anything_ +to-day?” + +Next I think you would have noticed an old woman who kept coming to +the living-room door—an old woman in a black gown and a white apron +so stiffly starched that it rattled when it touched anything—an old +woman with twinkling blue eyes and hair, enclosing, as in a silver +frame, a little carved nut of a face—an old woman who kept soothing +the little girl with a cheery: + +“Now joost you be patient, my lamb, sure somebody’ll be here soon.” + +The shop was unchanged since yesterday, except for a big bowl of +asters, red, white and blue. + +“Three cheers for the red, white and blue,” Maida sang when she +arranged them. She had been singing at intervals ever since. +Suddenly the latch slipped. The bell rang. + +Maida jumped. Then she sat so still in her high chair that you would +have thought she had turned to stone. But her eyes, glued to the +moving door, had a look as if she did not know what to expect. + +The door swung wide. A young man entered. It was Billy Potter. + +He walked over to the show case, his hat in his hand. And all the +time he looked Maida straight in the eye. But you would have thought +he had never seen her before. + +“Please, mum,” he asked humbly, “do you sell fairy-tales here?” + +Maida saw at once that it was one of Billy’s games. She had to bite +her lips to keep from laughing. “Yes,” she said, when she had made +her mouth quite firm. “How much do you want to pay for them?” + +“Not more than a penny each, mum,” he replied. + +Maida took out of a drawer the pamphlet-tales that Billy had liked +so much. + +“Are these what you want?” she asked. But before he could answer, +she added in a condescending tone, “Do you know how to read, little +boy?” + +Billy’s face twitched suddenly and his eyes “skrinkled up.” Maida +saw with a mischievous delight that he, in his turn, was trying to +keep the laughter back. + +“Yes, mum,” he said, making his face quite serious again. “My +teacher says I’m the best reader in the room.” + +He took up the little books and looked them over. “‘The Three +Boars’—no,‘Bears,’” he corrected himself. “‘Puss-in-Boats’—no, +‘Boots’; ‘Jack-and-the-Bean-Scalp’—no,‘Stalk’; ‘Jack the +Joint-Cooler’—no, ‘Giant-Killer’; ‘Cinderella,’ ‘Bluebird’—no, +‘Bluebeard’; ‘Little Toody-Goo-Shoes’—no, ‘Little Goody-Two-Shoes’; +‘Tom Thumb,’ ‘The Sweeping Beauty,’—no, ‘The Sleeping Beauty,’ ‘The +Babes in the Wood.’ I guess I’ll take these ten, mum.” + +He felt in all his pockets, one after another. After a long time, he +brought out some pennies, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, +eight, nine, ten,” he counted slowly. + +He took the books, turned and left the shop. Maida watched him in +astonishment. Was he really going for good? + +In a few minutes the little bell tinkled a second time and there +stood Billy again. + +“Good morning, Petronilla,” he said pleasantly, as if he had not +seen her before that morning, “How’s business?” + +“Fine!” Maida responded promptly. “I’ve just sold ten fairy books to +the funniest little boy you ever saw.” + +“My stars and garters!” Billy exclaimed. “Business surely is brisk. +Keep that up and you can afford to have a cat. I’ve brought you +something.” + +He opened the bag he carried and took a box out from it. “Hold out +your two hands,—it’s heavy,” he warned. + +In spite of his preparation, the box nearly fell to the floor—it was +so much heavier than Maida expected. “What can be in it?” she cried +excitedly. She pulled the cover off—then murmured a little “oh!” of +delight. + +The box was full—cram-jam full—of pennies; pennies so new that they +looked like gold—pennies so many that they looked like a fortune. + +“Gracious, what pretty money!” Maida exclaimed. “There must be a +million here.” + +“Five hundred,” Billy corrected her. + +He put some tiny cylindrical rolls of paper on the counter. Maida +handled them curiously—they, too, were heavy. + +“Open them,” Billy commanded. + +Maida pulled the papers away from the tops. Bright new dimes fell +out of one, bright new nickels came from the other. + +“Oh, I’m so glad to have nice clean money,” Maida said in a +satisfied tone. She emptied the money drawer and filled its pockets +with the shining coins. “It was very kind of you to think of it, +Billy. I know it will please the children.” The thought made her +eyes sparkle. + +The bell rang again. Billy went out to talk with Granny, leaving +Maida alone to cope with her first strange customer. + +Again her heart began to jump into her throat. Her mouth felt dry on +the inside. She watched the door, fascinated. + +On the threshold two little girls were standing. They were exactly +of the same size, they were dressed in exactly the same way, their +faces were as alike as two peas in a pod. Maida saw at once that +they were twins. They had little round, chubby bodies, bulging out +of red sweaters; little round, chubby faces, emerging from tall, +peaky, red-worsted caps. They had big round eyes as expressionless +as glass beads and big round golden curls as stiff as candles. They +stared so hard at Maida that she began to wonder nervously if her +face were dirty. + +“Come in, little girls,” she called. + +The little girls pattered over to the show case and looked in. But +their big round eyes, instead of examining the candy, kept peering +up through the glass top at Maida. And Maida kept peering down +through it at them. + +“I want to buy some candy for a cent,” one of them whispered in a +timid little voice. + +“I want to buy some candy for a cent, too,” the other whispered in a +voice, even more timid. + +“All the cent candy is in this case,” Maida explained, smiling. + +“What are you going to have, Dorothy?” one of them asked. + +“I don’t know. What are you going to have, Mabel?” the other +answered. They discussed everything in the one-cent case. Always +they talked in whispers. And they continued to look more often at +Maida than at the candy. + +“Have you anything two-for-a-cent?” Mabel whispered finally. + +“Oh, yes—all the candy in this corner.” + +The two little girls studied the corner Maida indicated. For two or +three moments they whispered together. At one point, it looked as if +they would each buy a long stick of peppermint, at another, a paper +of lozenges. But they changed their minds a great many times. And in +the end, Dorothy bought two large pickles and Mabel bought two large +chocolates. Maida saw them swapping their purchases as they went +out. + +The two pennies which the twins handed her were still moist from the +hot little hands that had held them. Maida dropped them into an +empty pocket in the money drawer. She felt as if she wanted to keep +her first earnings forever. It seemed to her that she had never seen +such _precious-looking_ money. The gold eagles which her father had +given her at Christmas and on her birthday did not seem half so +valuable. + +But she did not have much time to think of all this. The bell rang +again. This time it was a boy—a big fellow of about fourteen, she +guessed, an untidy-looking boy with large, intent black eyes. A mass +of black hair, which surely had not been combed, fell about a face +that as certainly had not been washed that morning. + +“Give me one of those blue tops in the window,” he said gruffly. He +did not add these words but his manner seemed to say, “And be quick +about it!” He threw his money down on the counter so hard that one +of the pennies spun off into a corner. + +He did not offer to pick the penny up. He did not even apologize. +And he looked very carefully at the top Maida handed him as if he +expected her to cheat him. Then he walked out. + +It was getting towards school-time. Children seemed to spring up +everywhere as if they grew out of the ground. The quiet streets +began to ring with the cries of boys playing tag, leap frog and +prisoners’ base. The little girls, much more quiet, squatted in +groups on doorsteps or walked slowly up and down, arm-in-arm. But +Maida had little time to watch this picture. The bell was ringing +every minute now. Once there were six children in the little shop +together. + +“Do you need any help?” Granny called. + +“No, Granny, not yet,” Maida answered cheerfully. + +But just the same, she did have to hurry. The children asked her for +all kinds of things and sometimes she could not remember where she +had put them. When in answer to the school bell the long lines began +to form at the big doorways, two round red spots were glowing in +Maida’s cheeks. She drew an involuntary sigh of relief when she +realized that she was going to have a chance to rest. But first she +counted the money she had taken in. Thirty-seven cents! It seemed a +great deal to her. + +For an hour or more, nobody entered the shop. Billy left in a little +while for Boston. Granny, crooning an old Irish song, busied herself +upstairs in her bedroom. Maida sat back in her chair, dreaming +happily of her work. Suddenly the bell tinkled, rousing her with a +start. + +It seemed a long time after the bell rang before the door opened. +But at last Maida saw the reason of the delay. The little boy who +stood on the threshold was lame. Maida would have known that he was +sick even if she had not seen the crutches that held him up, or the +iron cage that confined one leg. + +His face was as colorless as if it had been made of melted wax. His +forehead was lined almost as if he were old. A tired expression in +his eyes showed that he did not sleep like other children. He must +often suffer, too—his mouth had a drawn look that Maida knew well. + +The little boy moved slowly over to the counter. It could hardly be +said that he walked. He seemed to swing between his crutches exactly +as a pendulum swings in a tall clock. Perhaps he saw the sympathy +that ran from Maida’s warm heart to her pale face, for before he +spoke he smiled. And when he smiled you could not possibly think of +him as sick or sad. The corners of his mouth and the corners of his +eyes seemed to fly up together. It made your spirits leap just to +look at him. + +“I’d like a sheet of red tissue paper,” he said briskly. + +Maida’s happy expression changed. It was the first time that anybody +had asked her for anything which she did not have. + +“I’m afraid I haven’t any,” she said regretfully. + +The boy looked disappointed. He started to go away. Then he turned +hopefully. “Mrs. Murdock always kept her tissue paper in that drawer +there,” he said, pointing. + +“Oh, yes, I do remember,” Maida exclaimed. She recalled now a few +sheets of tissue paper that she had left there, not knowing what to +do with them. She pulled the drawer open. There they were, neatly +folded, as she had left them. + +“What did Mrs. Murdock charge for it?” she inquired. + +“A cent a sheet.” + +Maida thought busily. “I’m selling out all the old stock,” she said. +“You can have all that’s left for a cent if you want it.” + +“Sure!” the boy exclaimed. “Jiminy crickets! That’s a stroke of luck +I wasn’t expecting.” + +He spread the half dozen sheets out on the counter and ran through +them. He looked up into Maida’s face as if he wanted to thank her +but did not know how to put it. Instead, he stared about the shop. +“Say,” he exclaimed, “you’ve made this store look grand. I’d never +know it for the same place. And your sign’s a crackajack.” + +The praise—the first she had had from outside—pleased Maida. It +emboldened her to go on with the conversation. + +“You don’t go to school,” she said. + +The moment she had spoken, she regretted it. It was plain to be +seen, she reproached herself inwardly, why he did not go to school. + +“No,” the boy said soberly. “I can’t go yet. Doc O’Brien says I can +go next year, he thinks. I’m wild to go. The other fellows hate +school but I love it. I s’pose it’s because I can’t go that I want +to. But, then, I want to learn to read. A fellow can have a good +time anywhere if he knows how to read. I can read some,” he added in +a shamed tone, “but not much. The trouble is I don’t have anybody to +listen and help with the hard words.” + +“Oh, let me help you!” Maida cried. “I can read as easy as +anything.” This was the second thing she regretted saying. For when +she came to think of it, she could not see where she was going to +have much time to herself. + +But the little lame boy shook his head. “Can’t,” he said decidedly. +“You see, I’m busy at home all day long and you’ll be busy here. My +mother works out and I have to do most of the housework and take +care of the baby. Pretty slow work on crutches, you know—although +it’s easy enough getting round after you get the hang of it. No, I +really don’t have any time to fool until evenings.” + +“Evenings!” Maida exclaimed electrically. “Why, that’s just the +right time! You see I’m pretty busy myself during the daytime—at my +business.” Her voice grew a little important on that last phrase. +“Granny! Granny!” she called. + +Granny Flynn appeared in the doorway. Her eyes grew soft with pity +when they fell on the little lame boy. “The poor little gossoon!” +she murmured. + +“Granny,” Maida explained, “this little boy can’t go to school +because his mother works all day and he has to do the housework and +take care of the baby, too, and he wants to learn to read because he +thinks he won’t be half so lonely with books, and you know, Granny, +that’s perfectly true, for I never suffered half so much with my +legs after I learned to read.” + +It had all poured out in an uninterrupted stream. She had to stop +here to get breath. + +“Now, Granny, what I want you to do is to let me hear him read +evenings until he learns how. You see his mother comes home then and +he can leave the baby with her. Oh, do let me do it, Granny! I’m +sure I could. And I really think you ought to. For, if you’ll excuse +me for saying so, Granny, I don’t think you can understand as well +as I do what a difference it will make.” She turned to the boy. +“Have you read ‘Little Men’ and ‘Little Women’?” + +“No—why, I’m only in the first reader.” + +“I’ll read them to you,” Maida said decisively, “and ‘Treasure +Island’ and ‘The Princes and the Goblins’ and ‘The Princess and +Curdie.’” She reeled off the long list of her favorites. + +In the meantime, Granny was considering the matter. Dr. Pierce had +said to her of Maida: “Let her do anything that she wants to do—as +long as it doesn’t interfere with her eating and sleeping. The main +thing to do is to get her _to want to do things_.” + +“What’s your name, my lad?” she asked. + +“Dicky Dore, ma’am,” the boy answered respectfully. + +“Well, Oi don’t see why you shouldn’t thry ut, acushla,” she said to +Maida. “A half an hour iv’ry avening after dinner. Sure, in a wake, +’twill be foine and grand we’ll be wid the little store running like +a clock.” + +“We’ll begin next week, Monday,” Maida said eagerly. “You come over +here right after dinner.” + +“All right.” The little lame boy looked very happy but, again, he +did not seem to know what to say. “Thank you, ma’am,” he brought out +finally. “And you, too,” turning to Maida. + +“My name’s Maida.” + +“Thank you, Maida,” the boy said with even a greater display of +bashfulness. He settled the crutches under his thin shoulders. + +“Oh, don’t go, yet,” Maida pleaded. “I want to ask you some +questions. Tell me the names of those dear little girls—the twins.” + +Dicky Dore smiled his radiant smile. “Their last name’s Clark. Say, +ain’t they the dead ringers for each other? I can’t tell Dorothy +from Mabel or Mabel from Dorothy.” + +“I can’t, either,” Maida laughed. “It must be fun to be a twin—to +have any kind of a sister or brother. Who’s that big boy—the one +with the hair all hanging down on his face?” + +“Oh, that’s Arthur Duncan.” Dicky’s whole face shone. “He’s a dandy. +He can lick any boy of his size in the neighborhood. I bet he could +lick any boy of his size in the world. I bet he could lick his +weight in wild-cats.” + +Maida’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t like him,” she said. “He’s not +polite.” + +“Well, I like him,” Dicky Dore maintained stoutly. “He’s the best +friend I’ve got anywhere. Arthur hasn’t any mother, and his father’s +gone all day. He takes care of himself. He comes over to my place a +lot. You’ll like him when you know him.” + +The bell tinkling on his departure did not ring again till noon. But +Maida did not mind. + +“Granny,” she said after Dicky left, “I think I’ve made a friend. +Not a friend somebody’s brought to me—but a friend of my very own. +Just think of that!” + +At twelve, Maida watched the children pour out of the little +schoolhouse and disappear in all directions. At two, she watched +them reappear from all directions and pour into it again. But +between those hours she was so busy that she did not have time to +eat her lunch until school began again. After that, she sat +undisturbed for an hour. + +In the middle of the afternoon, the bell rang with an +important-sounding tinkle. Immediately after, the door shut with an +important-sounding slam. The footsteps, clattering across the room to +the show case, had an important-sounding tap. And the little girl, who +looked inquisitively across the counter at Maida, had decidedly an +important manner. + +She was not a pretty child. Her skin was too pasty, her blue eyes +too full and staring. But she had beautiful braids of glossy brown +hair that came below her waist. And you would have noticed her at +once because of the air with which she wore her clothes and because +of a trick of holding her head very high. + +Maida could see that she was dressed very much more expensively than +the other children in the neighborhood. Her dark, blue coat was +elaborate with straps and bright buttons. Her pale-blue beaver hat +was covered with pale-blue feathers. She wore a gold ring with a +turquoise in it, a silver bracelet with a monogram on it, a little +gun-metal watch pinned to her coat with a gun-metal pin, and a long +string of blue beads from which dangled a locket. + +Maida noticed all this decoration with envy, for she herself was +never permitted to wear jewelry. Occasionally, Granny would let her +wear one string from a big box of bead necklaces which Maida had +bought in Venice. + +“How much is that candy?” the girl asked, pointing to one of the +trays. + +Maida told her. + +“Dear me, haven’t you anything better than that?” + +Maida gave her all her prices. + +“I’m afraid there’s nothing good enough here,” the little girl went +on disdainfully. “My mother won’t let me eat cheap candy. Generally, +she has a box sent over twice a week from Boston. But the one we +expected to-day didn’t come.” + +“The little girl likes to make people think that she has nicer +things than anybody else,” Maida thought. She started to speak. If +she had permitted herself to go on, she would have said: “The candy +in this shop is quite good enough for any little girl. But I won’t +sell it to you, anyway.” But, instead, she said as quietly as she +could: “No, I don’t believe there’s anything here that you’ll care +for. But I’m sure you’ll find lots of expensive candy on Main +Street.” + +The little girl evidently was not expecting that answer. She +lingered, still looking into the show case. “I guess I’ll take five +cents’ worth of peppermints,” she said finally. Some of the +importance had gone out of her voice. + +Maida put the candy into a bag and handed it to her without +speaking. The girl bustled towards the door. Half-way, she stopped +and came back. + +“My name is Laura Lathrop,” she said. “What’s yours?” + +“Maida.” + +“Maida?” the girl repeated questioningly. “Maida?—oh, yes, I +know—Maida Flynn. Where did you live before you came here?” + +“Oh, lots of places.” + +“But where?” Laura persisted. + +“Boston, New York, Newport, Pride’s Crossing, the Adirondacks, +Europe.” + +“Oh, my! Have you been to Europe?” Laura’s tone was a little +incredulous. + +“I lived abroad a year.” + +“Can you speak French?” + +“Oui, Mademoiselle, je parle Français un peu.” + +“Say some more,” Laura demanded. + +Maida smiled. “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, +dix, onze, douze—” + +Laura looked impressed. “Do you speak any other language?” + +“Italian and German—a very little.” + +Laura stared hard at her and her look was full of question. But it +was evident that she decided to believe Maida. + +“I live in Primrose Court,” she said, and now there was not a shadow +of condescension left in her voice. “That large house at the back +with the big lawn about it. I’d like to have you come and play with +me some afternoon. I’m very busy most of the time, though. I take +music and fancy dancing and elocution. Next winter, I’m going to +take up French. I’ll send you word some afternoon when I have time +to play.” + +“Thank you,” Maida said in her most civil voice. “Come and play with +me sometime,” she added after a pause. + +“Oh, my mother doesn’t let me play in other children’s houses,” +Laura said airily. “Good-bye.” + +“Good-bye,” Maida answered. + +She waited until Laura had disappeared into the court. “Granny,” she +called impetuously, “a little girl’s been here who I think is the +hatefullest, horridest, disagreeablest thing I ever saw in my life.” + +“Why, what did the choild do?” Granny asked in surprise. + +“Do?” Maida repeated. “She did everything. Why, she—she—” She +interrupted herself to think hard a moment. “Well, it’s the queerest +thing. I can’t tell you a thing she did, Granny, and yet, all the +time she was here I wanted to slap her.” + +“There’s manny folks that-a-way,” said Granny. “The woisest way is +to take no notuce av ut.” + +“Take no notice of it!” Maida stormed. “It’s just like not taking +any notice of a bee when it’s stinging you.” + +Maida was so angry that she walked into the living-room without +limping. + +At four that afternoon, when the children came out of school, there +was another flurry of trade. Towards five, it slackened. Maida sat +in her swivel-chair and wistfully watched the scene in the court. +Little boys were playing top. Little girls were jumping rope. Once +she saw a little girl in a scarlet cape come out of one of the +yards. On one shoulder perched a fluffy kitten. Following her, +gamboled an Irish setter and a Skye terrier. Presently it grew dark +and the children began to go indoors. Maida lighted the gas and lost +herself in “Gulliver’s Travels.” + +The sound of voices attracted her attention after awhile. She turned +in her chair. Outside, staring into the window, stood a little boy +and girl—a ragged, dirty pair. Their noses pressed so hard against +the glass that they were flattened into round white circles. They +took no notice of Maida. Dropping her eyes to her book, she +pretended to read. + +“I boneys that red top, first,” said the little boy in a piping +voice. + +He was a round, brown, pop-eyed, big-mouthed little creature. Maida +could not decide which he looked most like—a frog or a brownie. She +christened him “the Bogle” at once. + +“I boneys that little pink doll with the curly hair, first,” said +the girl. + +She was a round, brown little creature, too—but pretty. She had +merry brown eyes and a merry little red and white smile. Maida +christened her “the Robin.” + +“I boneys that big agate, second,” said the Bogle. + +“I boneys that little table, second,” said the Robin. + +“I boneys that knife, third,” said the Bogle. + +“I boneys that little chair, third,” said the Robin. + +Maida could not imagine what kind of game they were playing. She +went to the door. “Come in, children,” she called. + +The children jumped and started to run away. But they stopped a +little way off, turned and stood as if they were not certain what to +do. Finally the Robin marched over to Maida’s side and the Bogle +followed. + +“Tell me about the game you were playing,” Maida said. “I never +heard of it before.” + +“’Tain’t any game,” the Bogle said. + +“We were just boneying,” the Robin explained. “Didn’t you ever boney +anything?” + +“No.” + +“Why, you boneys things in store windows,” the Robin went on. “You +always boney with somebody else. You choose one thing for yours and +they choose something else for theirs until everything in the window +is all chosen up. But of course they don’t really belong to you. You +only play they do.” + +“I see,” Maida said. + +She went to the window and took out the red top and the little pink +doll with curly hair. “Here, these are the things you boneyed first. +You may have them.” + +“Oh, thank you—thank you—thank you,” the Robin exclaimed. She kissed +the little pink doll ecstatically, stopping now and then to look +gratefully at Maida. + +“Thank you,” the Bogle echoed. He did not look at Maida but he began +at once to wind his top. + +“What is your name?” Maida asked. + +“Molly Doyle,” the Robin answered. “And this is my brother, Timmie +Doyle.” + +“My name’s Maida. Come and see me again, Molly, and you, too, +Timmie.” + +“Of course I’ll come,” Molly answered, “and I’m going to name my +doll ‘Maida.’” + +Molly ran all the way home, her doll tightly clutched to her breast. +But Timmie stopped to spin his top six times—Maida counted. + +No more customers came that evening. At six, Maida closed and locked +the shop. + +After dinner she thought she would read one of her new books. She +settled herself in her little easy chair by the fire and opened to a +story with a fascinating picture. But the moment her eyes fell on +the page—it was the strangest thing—a drowsiness, as deep as a +fairy’s enchantment, fell upon her. She struggled with it for +awhile, but she could not throw it off. The next thing she knew, +Granny was helping her up the stairs, was undressing her, had laid +her in her bed. The next thing she was saying dreamily, “I made one +dollar and eighty-seven cents to-day. If my papa ever gets into any +more trouble in Wall Street, he can borrow from me.” + +The next thing, she felt the pillow soft and cool under her cheek. +The next thing—bright sunlight was pouring through the window—it was +morning again. + + + + + + CHAPTER IV: THE SECOND DAY + + +It had rained all that night, but the second morning dawned the +twinklingest kind of day. It seemed to Maida that Mother Nature had +washed a million tiny, fleecy, white clouds and hung them out to dry +in the crisp blue air. Everything still dripped but the brilliant +sunshine put a sparkle on the whole world. Slates of old roofs +glistened, brasses of old doors glittered, silver of old name-plates +shone. Curbstones, sidewalks, doorsteps glimmered and gleamed. The +wet, ebony-black trunks of the maples smoked as if they were afire, +their thick-leaved, golden heads flared like burning torches. Maida +stood for a long time at the window listening to a parrot who called +at intervals from somewhere in the neighborhood. “Get up, you +sleepy-heads! Get up! Get up!” + +A huge puddle stretched across Primrose Court. When Maida took her +place in the swivel-chair, three children had begun already to float +shingles across its muddy expanse. Two of them were Molly and Tim +Doyle, the third a little girl whom Maida did not know. For a time +she watched them, fascinated. But, presently, the school children +crowding into the shop took all her attention. After the bell rang +and the neighborhood had become quiet again, she resumed her watch +of the mud-puddle fun. + +Now they were loading their shingles with leaves, twigs, pebbles, +anything that they could find in the gutters. By lashing the water +into waves, as they trotted in the wake of their frail craft, they +managed to sail them from one end of the puddle to the other. Maida +followed the progress of these merchant vessels as breathlessly as +their owners. Some capsized utterly. Others started to founder and +had to be dragged ashore. A few brought the cruise to a triumphant +finish. + +But Tim soon put an end to this fun. Unexpectedly, his foot caught +somewhere and he sprawled headlong in the tide. “Oh, Tim!” Molly +said. But she said it without surprise or anger. And Tim lay flat on +his stomach without moving, as if it were a common occurrence with +him. Molly waded out to him, picked him up and marched him into the +house. + +The other little girl had disappeared. Suddenly she came out of one +of the yards, clasping a Teddy-bear and a whole family of dolls in +her fat arms. She sat down at the puddle’s edge and began to undress +them. Maida idly watched the busy little fingers—one, two, three, +four, five—now there were six shivering babies. What was she going +to do with them? Maida wondered. + +“Granny,” Maida called, “do come and see this little girl! She’s—” +But Maida did not finish that sentence in words. It ended in a +scream. For suddenly the little girl threw the Teddy-bear and all +the six dolls into the puddle. Maida ran out the door. Half-way +across the court she met Dicky Dore swinging through the water. +Between them they fished all the dolls out. One was of celluloid and +another of rubber—they had floated into the middle of the pond. Two +china babies had sunk to the very bottom—their white faces smiled +placidly up through the water at their rescuers. A little rag-doll +lay close to the shore, water-logged. A pretty paper-doll had melted +to a pulp. And the biggest and prettiest of them, a lovely blonde +creature with a shapely-jointed body and a bisque head, covered with +golden curls, looked hopelessly bedraggled. + +“Oh, Betsy Hale!” Dicky said. “You naughty, naughty girl! How could +you drown your own children like that?” + +“I were divin’ them a baff,” Betsy explained. + +Betsy was a little, round butterball of a girl with great brown eyes +all tangled up in eyelashes and a little pink rosebud of a mouth, +folded over two rows of mice-teeth. She smiled deliciously up into +Maida’s face: + +“I aren’t naughty, is I?” she asked. + +“Naughty? You bunny-duck! Of course you are,” Maida said, giving her +a bear-hug. “I don’t see how anybody can scold her,” she whispered +to Dicky. + +“Scold her! You can’t,” Dicky said disgustedly. “She’s too cute. And +then if you did scold her it wouldn’t do any good. She’s the +naughtiest baby in the neighborhood—although,” he added with pride, +“I think Delia’s going to be pretty nearly as naughty when she gets +big enough. But Betsy Hale—why, the whole street has to keep an eye +on her. Come, pick up your dollies, Betsy,” he wheedled, “they’ll +get cold if you leave them out here.” + +The thought of danger to her darlings produced immediate activity on +Betsy’s part. She gathered the dolls under her cape, hugging them +close. “Her must put her dollies to bed,” she said wisely. + +“Calls herself _her_ half the time,” Dicky explained. He gathered up +the dresses and shooing Betsy ahead of him, followed her into the +yard. + +“She’s the greatest child I ever saw,” he said, rejoining Maida a +little later. “The things she thinks of to do! Why, the other day, +Miss Allison—the sister of the blind lady what sits in the window +and knits—the one what owns the parrot—well, Miss Allison painted +one of her old chairs red and put it out in the yard to dry. Then +she washed a whole lot of lace and put that out to dry. Next thing +she knew she looked out and there was Betsy washing all the red +paint off the chair with the lace. You’d have thought that would +have been enough for one day, wouldn’t you? Well, that afternoon she +turned the hose on Mr. Flanagan—that’s the policeman on the beat.” + +“What did he say?” Maida asked in alarm. She had a vague imaginary +picture of Betsy being dragged to the station-house. + +“Roared! But then Mr. Flanagan thinks Betsy’s all right. Always +calls her ’sophy Sparkles.’ Betsy runs away about twice a week. Mr. +Flanagan’s always finding her and lugging her home. I guess every +policeman in Charlestown knows her by this time. There, look at her +now! Did you ever see such a kid?” + +Betsy had come out of the yard again. She was carrying a huge +feather duster over her head as if it were a parasol. + +“The darling!” Maida said joyously. “I hope she’ll do something +naughty every day.” + +“Queer how you love a naughty child,” Dick said musingly. “They’re +an awful lot of trouble but you can’t help liking them. Has Tim +Doyle fallen into the puddle yet?” + +“Yes, just a little while ago.” + +“He’s always falling in mud puddles. I guess if Molly fishes him out +once after a rain, she does a half a dozen times.” + +“Do come and see me, Dicky, won’t you?” Maida asked when they got to +the shop door. “You know I shall be lonely when all the children are +in school and—then besides—you’re the first friend I’ve made.” + +At the word _friend_, Dicky’s beautiful smile shone bright. “Sure, +I’ll come,” he said heartily. “I’ll come often.” + +“Granny,” Maida exclaimed, bursting into the kitchen, “wait until +you hear about Betsy Hale.” She told the whole story. “Was I ever a +naughty little girl?” she concluded. + +“Naughty? Glory be, and what’s ailing you? ’Twas the best choild +this side of Heaven that you was. Always so sick and yet niver a +cross wurrud out of you.” + +A shadow fell over Maida’s face. “Oh, dear, dear,” she grieved. “I +wish I had been a naughty child—people love naughty children so. Are +you quite sure I was always good, Granny?” + +“Why, me blessid lamb, ’twas too sick that you was to be naughty. +You cud hardly lift one little hand from the bed.” + +“But, Granny, dear,” Maida persisted, “can’t you think of one +single, naughty thing I did? I’m sure you can if you try hard.” + +Maida’s face was touched with a kind of sad wistfulness. Granny +looked down at her, considerably puzzled. Then a light seemed to +break in her mind. It shone through her blue eyes and twinkled in +her smile. + +“Sure and Oi moind wance when Oi was joost afther giving you some +medicine and you was that mad for having to take the stuff that you +sat oop in bed and knocked iv’ry bottle off the table. Iv’ry wan! +Sure, we picked oop glass for a wake afther.” + +Maida’s wistful look vanished in a peal of silvery laughter. “Did I +really, Granny?” she asked in delight. “Did I break every bottle? +Are you sure? Every one?” + +“Iv’ry wan as sure as OI’m a living sinner,” said Granny. “Faith and +’twas the bad little gyurl that you was often—now that I sthop to +t’ink av ut.” + +Maida bounded back to the shop in high spirits. Granny heard her say +“Every bottle!” again and again in a whispering little voice. + +“Just think, Granny,” she called after a while. “I’ve made one, two, +three, four, five friends—Dicky, Molly, Tim, Betsy and Laura—though +I don’t call her quite a friend yet. Pretty good for so soon!” + +Maida was to make a sixth friend, although not quite so quickly. + +It began that noontime with a strange little scene that acted itself +out in front of Maida’s window. The children had begun to gather for +school, although it was still very quiet. Suddenly around the corner +came a wild hullaballoo—the shouts of small boys, the yelp of a dog, +the rattle and clang of tin dragged on the brick sidewalk. In +another instant appeared a dog, a small, yellow cur, collarless and +forlorn-looking, with a string of tin cans tied to his tail, a horde +of small boys yelling after him and pelting him with stones. + +Maida started up, but before she could get to the door, something +flashed like a scarlet comet from across the street. It was the +little girl whom Maida had seen twice before—the one who always wore +the scarlet cape. + +Even in the excitement, Maida noticed how handsome she was. She +seemed proud. She carried her slender, erect little body as if she +were a princess and her big eyes cast flashing glances about her. +Jet-black were her eyes and hair, milk-white were her teeth but in +the olive of her cheeks flamed a red such as could be matched only +in the deepest roses. Maida christened her Rose-Red at once. + +Rose-Red lifted the little dog into her arms with a single swoop of +her strong arm. She yanked the cans from its tail with a single +indignant jerk. Fondling the trembling creature against her cheek, +she talked first to him, then to his abashed persecutors. + +“You sweet, little, darling puppy, you! Did they tie the wicked cans +to his poor little tail!” and then—“if ever I catch one of you boys +treating a poor, helpless animal like this again, I’ll shake the +breath out of your body—was he the beautifullest dog that ever was? +And if that isn’t enough, Arthur Duncan will lick you all, won’t +you, Arthur?” She turned pleadingly to Arthur. + +Arthur nodded. + +“Nobody’s going to hurt helpless creatures while I’m about! He was a +sweet little, precious little, pretty little puppy, so he was.” + +Rose-Red marched into the court with the puppy, opened a gate and +dropped him inside. + +“That pup belongs to me, now,” she said marching back. + +The school bell ringing at this moment ended the scene. + +“Who’s that little girl who wears the scarlet cape?” Maida asked +Dorothy and Mabel Clark when they came in together at four. + +“Rosie Brine,” they answered in chorus. + +“She’s a dreffle naughty girl,” Mabel said in a whisper, and “My +mommer won’t let me play with her,” Dorothy added. + +“Why not?” Maida asked. + +“She’s a tom-boy,” Mabel informed her. + +“What’s a tom-boy?” Maida asked Billy that night at dinner. + +“A tom-boy?” Billy repeated. “Why, a tom-boy is a girl who acts like +a boy.” + +“How can a girl be a boy?” Maida queried after a few moments of +thought. “Why don’t they call her a tom-girl?” + +“Why, indeed?” Billy answered, taking up the dictionary. + +Certainly Rosie Brine acted like a boy—Maida proved that to herself +in the next few days when she watched Rose-Red again and again. But +if she were a tom-boy, she was also, Maida decided, the most +beautiful and the most wonderful little girl in the world. And, +indeed, Rosie was so full of energy that it seemed to spurt out in +the continual sparkle of her face and the continual movement of her +body. She never walked. She always crossed the street in a series of +flying jumps. She never went through a gate if she could go over the +fence, never climbed the fence if she could vault it. The scarlet +cape was always flashing up trees, over sheds, sometimes to the very +roofs of the houses. Her principal diversion seemed to be climbing +lamp-posts. Maida watched this proceeding with envy. One athletic +leap and Rose-Red was clasping the iron column half-way up—a few +more and she was swinging from the bars under the lantern. But she +was accomplished in other ways. She could spin tops, play “cat” and +“shinney” as well as any of the boys. And as for jumping rope—if two +little girls would swing for her, Rosie could actually waltz in the +rope. + +The strangest thing about Rosie was that she did not always go to +school like the other children. The incident of the dog happened on +Thursday. Friday morning, when the children filed into the +schoolhouse, Rosie did not follow them. Instead, she hid herself in +a doorway until after the bell rang. A little later she sneaked out +of her hiding place, joined Arthur Duncan at the corner, and +disappeared into the distance. Just before twelve they both came +back. For a few moments, they kept well concealed on a side street, +out of sight of Primrose Court. But, at intervals, Rosie or Arthur +would dart out to a spot where, without being seen, they could get a +glimpse of the church clock. When the children came out of school at +twelve, they joined the crowd and sauntered home. + +Monday morning Maida saw them repeat these maneuvers. She was +completely mystified by them and yet she had an uncomfortable +feeling. They were so stealthy that she could not help guessing that +something underhand was going on. + +“Do you know Rosie Brine?” Maida asked Dicky Dore one evening when +they were reading together. + +“Sure!” Dicky’s face lighted up. “Isn’t she a peach?” + +“They say she is a tom-boy,” Maida objected. “Is she?” + +“Surest thing you know,” Dicky said cheerfully. “She won’t take a +dare. You ought to see her playing stumps. There’s nothing a boy can +do that she won’t do. And have you noticed how she can spin a +top—the best I ever saw for a girl.” + +Then boys liked girls to be tom-boys. This was a great surprise. + +“How does it happen that she doesn’t go to school often?” + +Dicky grinned. “Hooking jack!” + +“Hooking jack?” Maida repeated in a puzzled tone. + +“Hooking jack—playing hookey—playing truant.” Dicky watched Maida’s +face but her expression was still puzzled. “Pretending to go to +school and not going,” he said at last. + +“Oh,” Maida said. “I understand now.” + +“She just hates school,” Dicky went on. “They can’t make her go. Old +Stoopendale, the truant officer, is always after her. Little she +cares for old Stoopy though. She gets fierce beatings for it at +home, too. Funny thing about Rosie—she won’t tell a lie. And when +her mother asks her about it, she always tells the truth. Sometimes +her mother will go to the schoolhouse door with her every morning +and afternoon for a week. But the moment she stops, Rosie begins to +hook jack again.” + +“Mercy me!” Maida said. In all her short life she had never heard +anything like this. She was convinced that Rosie Brine was a very +naughty little girl. And yet, underneath this conviction, burned an +ardent admiration for her. + +“She must be very brave,” she said soberly. + +“Brave! Well, I guess you’d think so! Arthur Duncan says she’s +braver than a lot of boys he knows. Arthur and she hook jack +together sometimes. And, oh cracky, don’t they have the good times! +They go down to the Navy Yard and over to the Monument Grounds. +Sometimes they go over to Boston Common and the Public Garden. Once +they walked all the way to Franklin Park. And in the summer they +often walk down to Crescent Beach. They say when I get well, I can +go with them.” + +Dicky spoke in the wistful tone with which he always related the +deeds of stronger children. Maida knew exactly how he felt—she had +been torn by the same hopes and despairs. + +“Oh, wouldn’t it be grand to be able to do just anything?” she said. +“I’m just beginning to feel as if I could do some of the things I’ve +always wanted to do.” + +“I’m going to do them all, sometime,” Dicky prophesied. “Doc O’Brien +says so.” + +“I think Rosie the beautifullest little girl,” Maida said. “I wish +she’d come into the shop so that I could get acquainted with her.” + +“Oh, she’ll come in sometime. You see the W.M.N.T. is meeting now +and we’re all pretty busy. She’s the only girl in it.” + +“The W.M.N.T.,” Maida repeated. “What does that mean?” + +“I can’t tell?” Dicky said regretfully. “It’s the name of our club. +Rosie and Arthur and I are the only ones who belong.” + +After that talk, Maida watched Rosie Brine closer than ever. If she +caught a glimpse of the scarlet cape in the distance, it was hard to +go on working. She noticed that Rosie seemed very fond of all +helpless things. She was always wheeling out the babies in the +neighborhood, always feeding the doves and carrying her kitten about +on her shoulder, always winning the hearts of other people’s dogs +and then trying to induce them not to follow her. + +“It seems strange that she never comes into the shop,” Maida said +mournfully to Dicky one day. + +“You see she never has any money to spend,” Dicky explained. “That’s +the way her mother punishes her. But sometimes she earns it on the +sly taking care of babies. She loves babies and babies always love +her. Delia’ll go to her from my mother any time and as for Betsy +Hale—Rosie’s the only one who can do anything with her.” + +But a whole week passed. And then one day, to Maida’s great delight, +the tinkle of the bell preceded the entrance of Rose-Red. + +“Let me look at your tops, please,” Rosie said, marching to the +counter with the usual proud swing of her body. + +Seen closer, she was even prettier than at a distance. Her smooth +olive skin glistened like satin. Her lips showed roses even more +brilliant than those that bloomed in her cheeks. A frown between her +eyebrows gave her face almost a sullen look. But to offset this, her +white teeth turned her smile into a flash of light. Maida lifted all +the tops from the window and placed them on the counter. + +“Mind if I try them?” Rosie asked. + +“Oh, do.” + +Rosie wound one of them with an expert hand. Then with a quick dash +forward of her whole arm, she threw the top to the floor. It danced +there, humming like a whole hiveful of bees. + +“Oh, how lovely!” Maida exclaimed. Then in fervent admiration: “What +a wonderful girl you are!” + +Rosie smiled. “Easy as pie if you know how. Want to learn?” + +“Oh, will you teach me?” + +“Sure! Begin now.” + +Maida limped from behind the counter. Rosie watched her. Rosie’s +face softened with the same pity that had shone on the frightened +little dog. + +“She’s sorry for me,” Maida thought. “How sweet she looks!” + +But Rosie said nothing about Maida’s limp. She explained the process +of top-spinning from end to end, step by step, making Maida copy +everything that she did. At first Maida was too eager—her hands +actually trembled. But gradually she gained in confidence. At last +she succeeded in making one top spin feebly. + +“Now you’ve got the hang of it,” Rosie encouraged her, “You’ll soon +learn. All you want to do is to practice. I’ll come to-morrow and +see how you’re getting on.” + +“Oh, do,” Maida begged, “and come to see me in the evening sometime. +Come this evening if your mother’ll let you.” + +Rosie laughed scornfully. “I guess nobody’s got anything to say +about _letting me_, if I make up my mind to come. Well, goodbye!” + +She whirled out of the shop and soon the scarlet cape was a +brilliant spot in the distance. + +But about seven that evening the bell rang. When Maida opened the +door there stood Rosie. + +“Oh, Rosie,” Maida said joyfully, throwing her arms about her guest, +“how glad I am to see you!” She hurried her into the living-room +where Billy Potter was talking with Granny. “This is Rosie Brine, +Billy,” she said, her voice full of pride in her new friend. “And +this is Billy Potter, Rosie.” + +Billy shook hands gravely with the little girl. And Rosie looked at +him in open wonder. Maida knew exactly what she was thinking. Rosie +was trying to make up her mind whether he was a boy or a man. The +problem seemed to grow more perplexing as the evening went on. For +part of the time Billy played with them, sitting on the floor like a +boy, and part of the time he talked with Granny, sitting in a chair +like a man. + +Maida showed Rosie her books, her Venetian beads, all her cherished +possessions. Rosie liked the canaries better than anything. “Just +think of having six!” she said. Then, sitting upstairs in Maida’s +bedroom, the two little girls had a long confidential talk. + +“I’ve been just crazy to know you, Maida,” Rosie confessed. “But +there was no way of getting acquainted, for you always stayed in the +store. I had to wait until I could tease mother to buy me a top.” + +“That’s funny,” Maida said, “for I was just wild to know you. I kept +hoping that you’d come in. I hope you’ll come often, Rosie, for I +don’t know any other little girl of my own age.” + +“You know Laura Lathrop, don’t you?” Rosie asked with a sideways +look. + +“Yes, but I don’t like her.” + +“Nobody likes her,” Rosie said. “She’s too much of a smarty-cat. She +loves to get people over there and then show off before them. And +then she puts on so many airs. I won’t have anything to do with +her.” + +From the open window came the shrill scream of Miss Allison’s +parrot. “What do you think of that?” it called over and over again. + +“Isn’t that a clever bird?” Rosie asked admiringly. “His name is +Tony. I have lots of fun with him. Did you ever see a parrot that +could talk, before?” + +“Oh, yes, we have several at Pride’s.” + +“Pride’s?” + +“Pride’s Crossing. That’s where we go summers.” + +“And what do your parrots say?” + +“One talked in French. He used to say ‘Taisez-vous’ so much that +sometimes we would have to put a cover over the cage to stop him.” + +“And did you have other animals besides parrots?” Rosie asked. “I +love animals.” + +“Oh, yes, we had horses and dogs and cats and rabbits and dancing +mice and marmosets and macaws and parokets and—I guess I’ve +forgotten some of them. But if you like animals, you ought to go to +our place in the Adirondacks—there are deer preserves there and +pheasants and peacocks.” + +“Who do they belong to?” + +“My father.” + +Rosie considered this. “Does he keep a bird-place?” she asked in a +puzzled tone. + +“No.” Maida’s tone was a little puzzled too. She did not know what a +bird-place was. + +“Well, did he sell them?” + +“I don’t think he ever sold any. He gave a great many away, though.” + +When Rosie went home, Maida walked as far as her gate with her. + +“Want to know a secret, Maida?” Rosie asked suddenly, her eyes +dancing with mischief. + +“Oh, yes. I love secrets.” + +“Cross your throat then.” + +Maida did not know how to cross her throat but Rosie taught her. + +“Well, then,” Rosie whispered, “my mother doesn’t know that I went +to your house. She sent me to bed for being naughty. And I got up +and dressed and climbed out my window on to the shed without anybody +knowing it. She’ll never know the difference.” + +“Oh, Rosie,” Maida said in a horrified tone, “Please never do it +again.” In spite of herself, Maida’s eyes twinkled. + +But Rosie only laughed. Maida watched her steal into her yard, +watched her climb over the shed, watched her disappear through the +window. + +But she grieved over the matter as she walked home. Perhaps it was +because she was thinking so deeply that she did not notice how quiet +they all were in the living-room. But as she crossed the threshold, +a pair of arms seized her and swung her into the air. + +“Oh, papa, papa,” she whispered, cuddling her face against his, “how +glad I am to see you.” + +He marched with her over to the light. + +“Well, little shop-keeper,” he said after a long pause in which he +studied her keenly, “you’re beginning to look like a real live +girl.” He dropped her gently to her feet. “Now show me your shop.” + + + + + + CHAPTER V: PRIMROSE COURT + + +But during that first two weeks a continual rush of business made +long days for Maida. All the children in the neighborhood were +curious to see the place. It had been dark and dingy as long as they +could remember. Now it was always bright and pretty—always sweet +with the perfume of flowers, always gay with the music of birds. But +more, the children wanted to see the lame little girl who “tended +store,” who seemed to try so hard to please her customers and who +was so affectionate and respectful with the old, old lady whom she +called “Granny.” + +At noon and night the bell sounded a continuous tinkle. + +For a week Maida kept rather close to the shop. She wanted to get +acquainted with all her customers. Moreover, she wanted to find out +which of the things she had bought sold quickly and which were +unpopular. + +After a day or two her life fell into a regular programme. + +Early in the morning she would put the shop to rights for the day’s +sale, dusting, replacing the things she had sold, rearranging them +often according to some pretty new scheme. + +About eight o’clock the bell would call her into the shop and it +would be brisk work until nine. Then would come a rest of three +hours, broken only by an occasional customer. In this interval she +often worked in the yard, raking up the leaves that fell from vine +and bush, picking the bravely-blooming dahlias, gathering sprays of +woodbine for the vases, scattering crumbs to the birds. + +At twelve the children would begin to flood the shop again and Maida +would be on her feet constantly until two. Between two and four came +another long rest. After school trade started up again. Often it +lasted until six, when she locked the door for the night. + +In her leisure moments she used to watch the people coming and going +in Primrose Court. With Rosie’s and Dicky’s help, she soon knew +everybody by name. She discovered by degrees that on the right side +of the court lived the Hales, the Clarks, the Doyles and the Dores; +on the left side, the Duncans, the Brines and the Allisons. In the +big house at the back lived the Lathrops. + +Betsy was a great delight to Maida, for the neighborhood brimmed +with stories of her mischief. She had buried her best doll in the +ash-barrel, thrown her mother’s pocketbook down the cesspool, put +all the clean laundry into a tub of water and painted the parlor +fireplace with tomato catsup. In a single afternoon, having become +secretly possessed of a pair of scissors, she cut all the fringe off +the parlor furniture, cut great scallops in the parlor curtains, cut +great patches of fur off the cat’s back. When her mother found her, +she was busy cutting her own hair. + +Often Granny would hear the door slam on Maida’s hurried rush from +the shop. Hobbling to the window, she would see the child leading +Betsy by the hand. “Running away again,” was all Maida would say. +Occasionally Maida would call in a vexed tone, “Now _how_ did she +creep past the window without my seeing her?” And outside would be +rosy-cheeked, brass-buttoned Mr. Flanagan, carrying Betsy home. Once +Billy arrived at the shop, bearing Betsy in his arms. “She was +almost to the bridge,” he said, “when I caught sight of her from the +car window. The little tramp!” + +Betsy never seemed to mind being caught. For an instant the little +rosebud that was her mouth would part over the tiny pearls that were +her teeth. This roguish smile seemed to say: “You wait until the +next time. You won’t catch me then.” + +Sometimes Betsy would come into the shop for an hour’s play. Maida +loved to have her there but it was like entertaining a whirlwind. +Betsy had a strong curiosity to see what the drawers and boxes +contained. Everything had to be put back in its place when she left. + +Next to the Hales lived the Clarks. By the end of the first week +Maida was the chief adoration of the Clark twins. Dorothy and Mabel +were just as good as Betsy was naughty. When they came over to see +Maida, they played quietly with whatever she chose to give them. It +was an hour, ordinarily, before they could be made to talk above a +whisper. If they saw Maida coming into the court, they would run to +her side, slipping a hot little hand into each of hers. Attended +always by this roly-poly bodyguard, Maida would limp from group to +group of the playing children. Nobody in Primrose Court could tell +the Clark twins apart. Maida soon learned the difference although +she could never explain it to anybody else. “It’s something you have +to feel,” she said. + +Billy Potter enjoyed the twins as much as Maida did. “Good morning, +Dorothy-Mabel,” he always said when he met one of them; “is this you +or your sister?” And he always answered their whispered remarks with +whispers so much softer than theirs that he finally succeeded in +forcing them to raise their shy little voices. + +The Doyles and the Dores lived in one house next to the Clarks, +Molly and Tim on the first floor, Dicky and Delia above. Maida +became very fond of the Doyle children. Like Betsy, they were too +young to go to school and she saw a good deal of them in the lonely +school hours. The puddle was an endless source of amusement to them. +As long as it remained, they entertained themselves playing along +its shores. + +“There’s that choild in the water again,” Granny would cry from the +living-room. + +Looking out, Maida would see Tim spread out on all fours. Like an +obstinate little pig, he would lie still until Molly picked him up. +She would take him home and in a few moments he would reappear in +fresh, clean clothes again. + +“Hello, Tim,” Billy Potter would say whenever they met. “Fallen into +a pud-muddle lately?” + +The word _pud-muddle_ always sent Tim off into peals of laughter. It +was the only thing Maida had discovered that could make him laugh, +for he was as serious as Molly was merry. Molly certainly was the +jolliest little girl in the court—Maida had never seen her with +anything but a smiling face. + +Dicky’s mother went to work so early and came back so late that +Maida had never seen her. But Dicky soon became an intimate. Maida +had begun the reading lessons and Dicky was so eager to get on that +they were progressing famously. + +The Lathrops lived in the big house at the back of the court. Granny +learned from the Misses Allison that, formerly, the whole +neighborhood had belonged to the Lathrop family. But they had sold +all their land, piece by piece, except the one big lot on which the +house stood. Perhaps it was because they had once been so important +that Mrs. Lathrop seemed to feel herself a little better than the +rest of the people in Primrose Court. At any rate, although she +spoke with all, the Misses Allison were the only ones on whom she +condescended to call. Maida caught a glimpse of her occasionally on +the piazza—a tall, thin woman, white-haired and sharp-featured, who +always wore a worsted shawl. + +The house was a big, bulky building, a mass of piazzas and +bay-windows, with a hexagonal cupola on the top. It was painted white +with green blinds and trimmed with a great deal of wooden lace. The +wide lawn was well-kept and plots of flowers, here and there, gave +it a gay air. + +Laura had a brother named Harold, who was short and fat. Harold +seemed to do nothing all day long but ride a wheel at a tearing pace +over the asphalt paths, and regularly, for two hours every morning, +to draw a shrieking bow across a tortured violin. + +The more Maida watched Laura the less she liked her. She could see +that what Rosie said was perfectly true—Laura put on airs. Every +afternoon Laura played on the lawn. Her appearance was the signal +for all the small fry of the neighborhood to gather about the gate. +First would come the Doyles, then Betsy, then, one by one, the +strange children who wandered into the court, until there would be a +row of wistful little faces stuck between the bars of the fence. +They would follow every move that Laura made as she played with the +toys spread in profusion upon the grass. + +Laura often pretended not to see them. She would lift her large +family of dolls, one after another, from cradle to bed and from bed +to tiny chair and sofa. She would parade up and down the walk, using +first one doll-carriage, then the other. She would even play a game +of croquet against herself. Occasionally she would call in a +condescending tone, “You may come in for awhile if you wish, little +children.” And when the delighted little throng had scampered to her +side, she would show them all her toy treasures on condition that +they did not touch them. + +When the proceedings reached this stage, Maida would be so angry +that she could look no longer. Very often, after Laura had sent the +children away, Maida would call them into the shop. She would let +them play all the rest of the afternoon with anything her stock +afforded. + +On the right side of the court lived Arthur Duncan, the Misses +Allison and Rosie Brine. The more Maida saw of Arthur, the more she +disliked him. In fact, she hated to have him come into the shop. It +seemed to her that he went out of his way to be impolite to her, +that he looked at her with a decided expression of contempt in his +big dark eyes. But Rosie and Dicky seemed very fond of him. Billy +Potter had once told her that one good way of judging people was by +the friends they made. If that were true, she had to acknowledge +that there must be something fine about Arthur that she had not +discovered. + +Maida guessed that the W.M.N.T.’s met three or four times a week. +Certainly there were very busy doings at Dicky’s or at Arthur’s +house every other day. What it was all about, Maida did not know. +But she fancied that it had much to do with Dicky’s frequent +purchases of colored tissue paper. + +The Misses Allison had become great friends with Granny. Matilda, +the blind sister, was very slender and sweet-faced. She sat all day +in the window, crocheting the beautiful, fleecy shawls by which she +helped support the household. + +Jemima, the older, short, fat and with snapping black eyes, did the +housework, attended to the parrot and waited by inches on her +afflicted sister. Occasionally in the evening they would come to +call on Granny. Billy Potter was very nice to them both. He was +always telling the sisters the long amusing stories of his +adventures. Miss Matilda’s gentle face used positively to beam at +these times, and Miss Jemima laughed so hard that, according to her +own story, his talk put her “in stitches.” + +Maida did not see Rosie’s mother often. To tell the truth, she was a +little afraid of her. She was a tall, handsome, black-browed woman—a +grown-up Rosie—with an appearance of great strength and of even +greater temper. “Ah, that choild’s the limb,” Granny would say, when +Maida brought her some new tale of Rosie’s disobedience. And yet, in +the curious way in which Maida divined things that were not told +her, she knew that, next to Dicky, Rosie was Granny’s favorite of +all the children in the neighborhood. + +With all these little people to act upon its stage, it is not +surprising that Primrose Court seemed to Maida to be a little +theater of fun—a stage to which her window was the royal box. +Something was going on there from morning to night. Here would be a +little group of little girls playing “house” with numerous families +of dolls. There, it would be boys, gathered in an excited ring, +playing marbles or top. Just before school, games like leap-frog, or +tag or prisoners’ base would prevail. But, later, when there was +more time, hoist-the-sail would fill the air with its strange cries, +or hide-and-seek would make the place boil with excitement. Maida +used to watch these games wistfully, for Granny had decided that +they were all too rough for her. She would not even let Maida play +“London-Bridge-is-falling-down” or “drop the handkerchief”—anything, +in fact, in which she would have to run or pull. + +But Granny had no objections to the gentler fun of “Miss +Jennie-I-Jones,” “ring-a-ring-a-rounder,” “water, water wildflower,” +“the farmer in the dell,” “go in and out the windows.” Maida used to +try to pick out the airs of these games on the spinet—she never could +decide which was the sweetest. + +Maida soon learned how to play jackstones and, at the end of the +second week, she was almost as proficient as Rosie with the top. The +thing she most wanted to learn, however, was jump-rope. Every little +girl in Primrose Court could jump-rope—even the twins, who were +especially nimble at “pepper.” Maida tried it one night—all alone in +the shop. But suddenly her weak leg gave way under her and she fell +to the floor. Granny, rushing in from the other room, scolded her +violently. She ended by forbidding her to jump again without special +permission. But Maida made up her mind that she was going to learn +sometime, even, as she said with a roguish smile, “if it took a +leg.” She talked it over with Rosie. + +“You let her jump just one jump every morning and night, Granny,” +Rosie advised, “and I’m sure it will be all right. That won’t hurt +her any and, after awhile, she’ll find she can jump two, then three +and so on. That’s the way I learned.” + +Granny agreed to this. Maida practiced constantly, one jump in her +nightgown, just before going to bed, and another, all dressed, just +after she got up. + +“I jumped three jumps this morning without failing, Granny,” she +said one morning at breakfast. Within a few days the record climbed +to five, then to seven, then, at a leap, to ten. + +Dr. Pierce called early one morning. His eyes opened wide when they +fell upon her. “Well, well, Pinkwink,” he said. “What do you mean by +bringing me way over here! I thought you were supposed to be a sick +young person. Where’d you get that color?” + +A flush like that of a pink sweet-pea blossom had begun to show in +Maida’s cheek. It was faint but it was permanent. + +“Why, you’re the worst fraud on my list. If you keep on like this, +young woman, I shan’t have any excuse for calling. You’ve done fine, +Granny.” + +Granny looked, as Dr. Pierce afterwards said, “as tickled as Punch.” + +“How do you like shop-keeping?” Dr. Pierce went on. + +“Like it!” Maida plunged into praise so swift and enthusiastic that +Dr. Pierce told her to go more slowly or he would put a bit in her +mouth. But he listened attentively. “Well, I see you’re not tired of +it,” he commented. + +“Tired!” Maida’s indignation was so intense that Dr. Pierce shook +until every curl bobbed. + +“And I get so hungry,” she went on. “You see I have to wait until +two o’clock sometimes before I can get my lunch, because from twelve +to two are my busy hours. Those days it seems as if the school bell +would never ring.” + +“Sure, tis a foine little pig OI’m growing now,” Granny said. + +“And as for sleeping—” Maida stopped as if there were no words +anywhere to describe her condition. + +Granny finished it for her. “The choild sleeps like a top.” + +Billy Potter came at least every day and sometimes oftener. Every +child in Primrose Court knew him by the end of the first week and +every child loved him by the end of the second. And they all called +him Billy. He would not let them call him Mr. Potter or even Uncle +Billy because, he said, he was a child when he was with them and he +wanted to be treated like a child. He played all their games with a +skill that they thought no mere grown-up could possess. Like Rosie, +he seemed to be bubbling over with life and spirits. He was always +running, leaping, jumping, climbing, turning cartwheels and +somersaults, vaulting fences and “chinning” himself unexpectedly +whenever he came to a doorway. + +“Oh, Masther Billy, ’tis the choild that you are!” Granny would say, +twinkling. + +“Yes, ma’am,” Billy would answer. + +At the end of the first fortnight, the neighborhood had accepted +Granny and Maida as the mother-in-law and daughter of a “traveling +man.” From the beginning Granny had seemed one of them, but Maida +was a puzzle. The children could not understand how a little girl +could be grown-up and babyish at the same time. And if you stop to +think it over, perhaps you can understand how they felt. + +Here was a child who had never played, +“London-Bridge-is-falling-down” or jackstones or jump-rope or +hop-scotch. Yet she talked familiarly of automobiles, yachts and horses. +She knew nothing about geography and yet, her conversation was full of +such phrases as “The spring we were in Paris” or “The winter we spent +in Rome.” She knew nothing about nouns and verbs but she talked Italian +fluently with the hand-organ man who came every week and many of her books +were in French. She knew nothing about fractions or decimals, yet she +referred familiarly to “drawing checks,” to gold eagles and to Wall +Street. Her writing was so bad that the children made fun of it, yet +she could spin off a letter of eight pages in a flash. And she told +the most wonderful fairy-tales that had ever been heard in Primrose +Court. + +Because of all these things the children had a kind of contempt for +her mingled with a curious awe. + +She was so polite with grown people that it was fairly embarrassing. +She always arose from her chair when they entered the room, always +picked up the things they dropped and never interrupted. And yet she +could carry on a long conversation with them. She never said, “Yes, +ma’am,” or “No, ma’am.” Instead, she said, “Yes, Mrs. Brine,” or +“No, Miss Allison,” and she looked whomever she was talking with +straight in the eye. + +She would play with the little children as willingly as with the +bigger ones. Often when the older girls and boys were in school, she +would bring out a lapful of toys and spend the whole morning with +the little ones. When Granny called her, she would give all the toys +away, dividing them with a careful justice. And, yet, whenever +children bought things of her in the shop, she always expected them +to pay the whole price. You can see how the neighborhood would +fairly buzz with talk about her. + +As for Maida—with all this newness of friend-making and out-of-doors +games, it is not to be wondered that her head was a jumble at the +end of each day. In that delicious, dozy interval before she fell +asleep at night, all kinds of pretty pictures seemed to paint +themselves on her eyelids. + +Now it was Rose-Red swaying like a great overgrown scarlet flower +from the bars of a lamp-post. Now it was Dicky hoisting himself +along on his crutches, his face alight with his radiant smile. Now +it was a line of laughing, rosy-cheeked children, as long as the +tail of a kite, pelting to goal at the magic cry “Liberty poles are +bending!” Or it was a group of little girls, setting out rows and +rows of bright-colored paper-dolls among the shadows of one of the +deep old doorways. But always in a few moments came the sweetest +kind of sleep. And always through her dreams flowed the plaintive +music of “Go in and out the windows.” Often she seemed to wake in +the morning to the Clarion cry, “Hoist the sail!” + +It did not seem to Maida that the days were long enough to do all +the things she wanted to do. + + + + + + CHAPTER VI: TWO CALLS + + +One morning, Laura Lathrop came bustling importantly into the shop. +“Good morning, Maida,” she said; “you may come over to my house this +afternoon and play with me if you’d like.” + +“Thank you, Laura,” Maida answered. To anybody else, she would have +added, “I shall be delighted to come.” But to Laura, she only said, +“It is kind of you to ask me.” + +“From about two until four,” Laura went on in her most superior +tone. “I suppose you can’t get off for much longer than that.” + +“Granny is always willing to wait on customers if I want to play,” +Maida explained, “but I think she would not want me to stay longer +than that, anyway.” + +“Very well, then. Shall we say at two?” Laura said this with a very +grown-up air. Maida knew that she was imitating her mother. + +Laura had scarcely left when Dicky appeared, swinging between his +crutches. “Maida,” he said, “I want you to come over to-morrow +afternoon and see my place. You’ve not seen Delia yet and there’s a +whole lot of things I want to show you. I’m going to clean house +to-day so’s I’ll be all ready for you to-morrow.” + +“Oh, thank you,” Maida said. The sparkle that always meant delight +came into her face. “I shall be delighted. I’ve always wanted to go +over and see you ever since I first knew you. But Granny said to +wait until you invited me. And I really have never seen Delia except +when Rosie’s had her in the carriage. And then she’s always been +asleep.” + +“You have to see Delia in the house to know what a naughty baby she +is,” Dicky said. He spoke as if that were the finest tribute that he +could pay his little sister. + +“Granny,” Maida said that noon at lunch, “Laura Lathrop came here +and invited me to come to see her this afternoon and I just hate the +thought of going—I don’t know why. Then Dicky came and invited me to +come and see him to-morrow afternoon and I just love the thought of +going. Isn’t it strange?” + +“Very,” Granny said, smiling. “But you be sure to be a noice choild +this afternoon, no matter what that wan says to you.” + +Granny always referred to Laura as “that wan.” + +“Oh, yes, I’ll be good, Granny. Isn’t it funny,” Maida went on. The +tone of her voice showed that she was thinking hard. “Laura makes me +mad—oh, just hopping mad,”—“hopping mad” was one of Rosie’s +expressions—“and yet it seems to me I’d die before I’d let her know +it.” + +Laura was waiting for her on the piazza when Maida presented herself +at the Lathrop door. “Won’t you come in and take your things off, +first?” she said. “I thought we’d play in the house for awhile.” + +She took Maida immediately upstairs to her bedroom—a large room all +furnished in blue—blue paper, blue bureau scarf covered with lace, +blue bed-spread covered with lace, a big, round, blue roller where +the pillows should be. + +“How do you like my room, Maida?” + +“It’s very pretty.” + +“This is my toilet-set.” Laura pointed to the glittering articles on +the bureau. “Papa’s given them to me, one piece at a time. It’s all +of silver and every thing has my initials on it. What is your set +of?” + +Laura paused before she asked this last question and darted one of +her sideways looks at Maida. “She thinks I haven’t any toilet-set +and she wants to make me say so,” Maida thought. “Ivory,” she said +aloud. + +“Ivory! I shouldn’t think that would be very pretty.” + +Laura opened her bureau drawers, one at a time, and showed Maida the +pretty clothes packed in neat piles there. She opened the large +closet and displayed elaborately-made frocks, suspended on hangers. +And all the time, with little sharp, sideways glances, she was +studying the effect on Maida. But Maida’s face betrayed none of the +wonder and envy that Laura evidently expected. Maida was very polite +but it was evident that she was not much interested. + +Next they went upstairs to a big playroom which covered the whole +top of the house. Shelves covered with books and toys lined the +walls. A fire, burning in the big fireplace, made it very cheerful. + +“Oh, what a darling doll-house,” Maida exclaimed, pausing before the +miniature mansion, very elegantly furnished. + +“Oh, do you like it?” Laura beamed with pride. + +“I just love it! Particularly because it’s so little.” + +“Little!” Laura bristled. “I don’t think it’s so very little. It’s +the biggest doll-house I ever saw. Did you ever see a bigger one?” + +Maida looked embarrassed. “Only one.” + +“Whose was it?” + +“It was the one my father had built for me at Pride’s. It was too +big to be a doll’s house. It was really a small cottage. There were +four rooms—two upstairs and two downstairs and a staircase that you +could really walk up. But I don’t like it half so well as this one,” +Maida went on truthfully. “I think it’s very queer but, somehow, the +smaller things are the better I like them. I guess it’s because I’ve +seen so many big things.” + +Laura looked impressed and puzzled at the same time. “And you really +could walk up the stairs? Let’s go up in the cupola,” she suggested, +after an uncertain interval in which she seemed to think of nothing +else to show. + +The stairs at the end of the playroom led into the cupola. Maida +exclaimed with delight over the view which she saw from the windows. +On one side was the river with the draw-bridge, the Navy Yard and +the monument on Bunker Hill. On the other stretched the smoky +expanse of Boston with the golden dome of the state house gleaming +in the midst of a huge, red-brick huddle. + +“Did you have a cupola at Pride’s Crossing?” Laura asked +triumphantly. + +“Oh, no—how I wish I had!” + +Laura beamed again. + +“Laura likes to have things other people haven’t,” Maida thought. + +Her hostess now conducted her back over the two flights of stairs to +the lower floor. They went into the dining-room, which was all +shining oak and glittering cut-glass; into the parlor, which was +filled with gold furniture, puffily upholstered in blue brocade; +into the libraries, which Maida liked best of all, because there +were so many books and— + +“Oh, oh, oh!” she exclaimed, stopping before one of the pictures; +“that’s Santa Maria in Cosmedin. I haven’t seen that since I left +Rome.” + +“How long did you stay in Rome, little girl?” a voice asked back of +her. Maida turned. Mrs. Lathrop had come into the room. + +Maida arose immediately from her chair. “We stayed in Rome two +months,” she said. + +“Indeed. And where else did you go?” + +“London, Paris, Florence and Venice.” + +“Do you know these other pictures?” Mrs. Lathrop asked. “I’ve been +collecting photographs of Italian churches.” + +Maida went about identifying the places with little cries of joy. +“Ara Coeli—I saw in there the little wooden bambino who cures sick +people. It’s so covered with bracelets and rings and lockets and +pins and chains that grateful people have given it that it looks as +if it were dressed in jewels. The bambino’s such a darling little +thing with such a sweet look in its face. That’s St. Agnes outside +the wall—I saw two dear little baby lambs blessed on the altar there +on St. Agnes’s day. One was all covered with red garlands and the +other with green. Oh, they were such sweethearts! They were going to +use the fleece to make some garment for the pope. That’s Santa Maria +della Salute—they call it Santa Maria della _Volute_ instead of +_Salute_ because it’s all covered with volutes.” Maida smiled +sunnily into Mrs. Lathrop’s face as if expecting sympathy with this +architectural joke. + +But Mrs. Lathrop did not smile. She looked a little staggered. She +studied Maida for a long time out of her shrewd, light eyes. + +“Whose family did you travel with?” she asked at last. + +Maida felt a little embarrassed. If Mrs. Lathrop asked her certain +questions, it would place her in a very uncomfortable position. On +the one hand, Maida could not tell a lie. On the other, her father +had told her to tell nobody that she was his daughter. + +“The family of Mr. Jerome Westabrook,” she said at last. + +“Oh!” It was the “oh” of a person who is much impressed. “‘Buffalo’ +Westabrook?” Mrs. Lathrop asked. + +“Yes.” + +“Did your grandmother, Mrs. Flynn, go with you?” + +“Yes.” + +Mrs. Lathrop continued to look very hard at Maida. Her eyes wandered +over the little blue frock—simple but of the best materials—over the +white “tire” of a delicate plaided nainsook, trimmed with +Valenciennes lace, the string of blue Venetian beads, the soft, +carefully-fitted shoes. + +“Mr. Westabrook has a little girl, hasn’t he?” Mrs. Lathrop said. + +Maida felt extremely uncomfortable now. But she looked Mrs. Lathrop +straight in the eye. “Yes,” she answered. + +“About your age?” + +“Yes.” + +“She is an invalid, isn’t she?” + +“She _was_,” Maida said with emphasis. + +Mrs. Lathrop did not ask any more questions. She went presently into +the back library. An old gentleman sat there, reading. + +“That little girl who keeps the store at the corner is in there, +playing with Laura, father,” she said. “I guess her grandmother was +a servant in ‘Buffalo’ Westabrook’s family, for they traveled abroad +a year with the Westabrook family. Evidently, they give her all the +little Westabrook girl’s clothes—she’s dressed quite out of keeping +with her station in life. Curious how refinement rubs off—the child +has really a good deal of manner. I don’t know that I quite like to +have Laura playing with her, though.” + +The two little girls returned after awhile to the playroom. + +“How would you like to have me dance for you?” Laura asked abruptly. +“You know I take fancy dancing.” + +“Oh, Laura,” Maida said delightedly “will you?” + +“Of course I will,” Laura said with her most beaming expression. +“You wait here while I go downstairs and get into my costume. Watch +that door, for I shall make my entrance there.” + +Maida waited what seemed a long time to her. Then suddenly Laura +came whirling into the room. She had put on a little frock of +pale-blue liberty silk that lay, skirt, bodice and tiny sleeves, in +many little pleats—“accordion-pleated,” Laura afterwards described it. +Laura’s neck and arms were bare. She wore blue silk stockings and +little blue-kid slippers, heelless and tied across the ankles with +ribbons. Her hair hung in a crimpy torrent to below her waist. + +“Oh, Laura, how lovely you do look!” Maida said, “I think you’re +perfectly beautiful!” + +Laura smiled. Lifting both arms above her head, she floated about +the room, dancing on the very tips of her toes. Turning and smiling +over her shoulder, she bent and swayed and attitudinized. Maida +could have watched her forever. + +In a few moments she disappeared again. This time she came back in a +red-silk frock with a little bolero jacket of black velvet, hung +with many tinkling coins. Whenever her fingers moved, a little +pretty clapping sound came from them—Maida discovered that she +carried tiny wooden clappers. Whenever her heels came together, a +pretty musical clink came from them—Maida discovered that on her +shoes were tiny metal plates. + +Once again Laura went out. This time, she returned dressed like a +little sailor boy. She danced a gay little hornpipe. + +“I never saw anything so marvelous in my life,” Maida said, her eyes +shining with enjoyment. “Oh, Laura how I wish I could dance like +that. How did you ever learn? Do you practice all the time?” + +“Oh, it’s not so very hard—for me,” Laura returned. “Of course, +everybody couldn’t learn. And I suppose you, being lame, could never +do anything at all.” + +This was the first allusion that had been made in Primrose Court to +Maida’s lameness. Her face shadowed a little. “No, I’m afraid I +couldn’t,” she said regretfully. “But—oh—think what a lovely dancer +Rosie would make.” + +“I’m afraid Rosie’s too rough,” Laura said. She unfolded a little +fan and began fanning herself languidly. “It’s a great bother +sometimes,” she went on in a bored tone of voice. “Everybody is +always asking me to dance at their parties. I danced at a beautiful +May party last year. Did you ever see a May-pole?” + +“Oh, yes,” Maida said. “My birthday comes on May Day and last year +father gave me a party. He had a May-pole set up on the lawn and all +the children danced about it.” + +“My birthday comes in the summer, too. I always have a party on our +place in Marblehead,” Laura said. “I had fifty children at my party +last year. How many did you have?” + +“We sent out over five hundred invitations, I believe. But not quite +four hundred accepted.” + +“Four hundred,” Laura repeated. “Goodness, what could so many +children do?” + +“Oh, there were all sorts of things for them to do,” Maida answered. +“There was archery and diabolo and croquet and fishing-ponds and a +merry-go-round and Punch and Judy on the lawn and a play in my +little theater—I can’t remember everything.” + +Laura’s eyes had grown very big. “Didn’t you have a perfectly +splendiferous time?” she asked. + +“No, not particularly,” Maida said. “Not half such a good time as +I’ve had playing in Primrose Court. I wasn’t very well and then, +somehow, I didn’t care for those children the way I care for Dicky +and Rosie and the court children.” + +“Goodness!” was all Laura could say for a moment. But finally she +added, “I don’t believe that, Maida!” + +Maida stared at her and started to speak. “Oh, there’s the clock +striking four?” was all she said though. “I must go. Thank you for +dancing for me.” + +She flew into her coat and hat. She could not seem to get away quick +enough. Nobody had ever doubted her word before. She could not +exactly explain it to herself but she felt if she talked with Laura +another moment, she would fly out of her skin. + + ---------------------- + +“Mother,” Laura said, after Maida had gone, “Maida Flynn told me +that her father gave her a birthday party last year and invited five +hundred children to it and they had a theater and a Punch and Judy +show and all sorts of things. Do you think it’s true?” + +Mrs. Lathrop set her lips firmly. “No, I think it is probably not +true. I think you’d better not play with the little Flynn girl any +more.” + + ---------------------- + +The next afternoon, Maida went, as she had promised, to see Dicky. + +She could see at a glance that Mrs. Dore was having a hard struggle +to support her little family. In the size and comfort of its +furnishings, the place was the exact opposite of the Lathrop home. +But, somehow, there was a wonderful feeling of home there. + +“Dicky, how do you manage to keep so clean here?” Maida asked in +genuine wonder. + +And indeed, hard work showed everywhere. The oilcloth shone like +glass. The stove was as clean as a newly-polished shoe. The rows of +pans on the wall fairly twinkled. Delicious smells were filling the +air. Maida guessed that Dicky was making one of the Irish stews that +were his specialty. + +“See that little truck over there?” Dicky said. “That helps a lot. +Arthur Duncan made that for me. You see we have to keep our coal in +that closet, way across the room. I used to get awful tired filling +the coal-hod and lugging it over to the stove. But now you see I +fill that truck at the closet, wheel it over to the stove and I +don’t have to think of coal for three days.” + +“Arthur must be a very clever boy,” Maida said thoughtfully. + +“You bet he is. See that tin can in the sink? Well, I wanted a +soap-shaker but couldn’t afford to get one. Arthur took that can and +punched the bottom full of holes. I keep it filled up with all the +odds and ends of soap. When I wash the dishes, I just let the +boiling water from the kettle flow through it. It makes water grand +and soapy. Arthur made me that iron dish-rag and that dish-mop.” + +A sleepy cry came from the corner. Dicky swung across the room. +Balancing himself against the cradle there, he lifted the baby to +the floor. “She can’t walk yet but you watch her go,” he said +proudly. + +Go! The baby crept across the room so fast that Maida had to run to +keep up with her. “Oh, the love!” she said, taking Delia into her +arms. “Think of having a whole baby to yourself.” + +“Can’t leave a thing round where she is,” Dicky said proudly, as if +this were the best thing he could say about her. “Have to put _my_ +work away the moment she wakes up. Isn’t she a buster, though?” + +“I should say she was!” And indeed, the baby was as fat as a little +partridge. Maida wondered how Dicky could lift her. Also Delia was +as healthy-looking as Dicky was sickly. Her cheeks showed a pink +that was almost purple and her head looked like a mop, so thickly +was it overgrown with tangled, red-gold curls. + +“Is she named after your mother?” Maida asked. + +“No—after my grandmother in Ireland. But of course we don’t call her +anything but ‘baby’ yet. My, but she’s a case! If I didn’t watch her +all the time, every pan in this room would be on the floor in a +jiffy. And she tears everything she puts her hands on.” + +“Granny must see her sometime—Granny’s name is Delia.” + +“Hi, stop that!” Dicky called. For Delia had discovered the little +bundle that Maida had placed on a chair, and was busy trying to tear +it open. + +“Let her open it,” Maida said, “I brought it for her.” + +They watched. + +It took a long time, but Delia sat down, giving her whole attention +to it. Finally her busy fingers pulled off so much paper that a pair +of tiny rubber dolls dropped into her lap. + +“Say ‘Thank you, Maida,’” Dicky prompted. + +Delia said something and Dicky assured her that the baby had obeyed +him. It sounded like, “Sank-oo-Maysa.” + +While Delia occupied herself with the dolls, Maida listened to +Dicky’s reading lesson. He was getting on beautifully now. At least +he could puzzle out by himself some of the stories that Maida lent +him. When they had finished that day’s fairy-tale, Dicky said: + +“Did you ever see a peacock, Maida?” + +“Oh, yes—a great many.” + +“Where?” + +“I saw ever so many in the Jardin des Plantes in Paris and then my +father has some in his camp in the Adirondacks.” + +“Has he many?” + +“A dozen.” + +“I’m just wild to see one. Are they as beautiful as that picture in +the fairy-tale?” + +“They’re as beautiful as—as—” Maida groped about in her mind to find +something to compare them to “—as angels,” she said at last. + +“And do they really open their tails like a fan?” + +“That is the most wonderful sight, Dicky, that you ever saw.” +Maida’s manner was almost solemn. “When they unfurl the whole fan +and the sun shines on all the green and blue eyes and on all the +little gold feathers, it’s so beautiful. Well, it makes you ache. I +_cried_ the first time I saw one. And when their fans are down, they +carry them so daintily, straight out, not a single feather trailing +on the ground. There are two white peacocks on the Adirondacks +place.” + +“_White_ peacocks! I never heard of white ones.” + +“They’re not common.” + +“Think of seeing a dozen peacocks every day!” Dicky exclaimed. +“Jiminy crickets! Why, Maida, your life must have been just like a +fairy-tale when you lived there.” + +“It seems more like a fairy-tale here.” + +They laughed at this difference of opinion. + +“Dicky,” Maida asked suddenly, “do you know that Rosie steals out of +her window at night sometimes when her mother doesn’t know it?” + +“Sure—I know that. You see,” he went on to explain, “it’s like this. +Rosie is an awful bad girl in some ways—there’s no doubt about that. +But my mother says Rosie isn’t as bad as she seems. My mother says +Rosie’s mother has never learned how to manage her. She whips Rosie +an awful lot. And the more she whips Rosie, the naughtier she gets. +Rosie says she’s going to run away some day, and by George, I bet +she’ll do it. She always does what she says she’ll do.” + +“Isn’t it dreadful?” Maida said in a frightened tone. “Run away! I +never heard of such a thing. Think of having a mother and then not +getting along with her. Suppose she died sometime, as my mother +did.” + +“I don’t know what I’d do without my mother,” Dicky said +thoughtfully. “But then I’ve got the best mother that ever was. I +wish she didn’t have to work so hard. But you wait until I get on my +feet. Then you’ll see how I’m going to earn money for her.” + +When Maida got home that night, Billy Potter sat with Granny in the +living-room. Maida came in so quietly that they took no notice of +her. Granny was talking. Maida could see that the tears were +coursing down the wrinkles in her cheeks. + +“And after that, the poor choild ran away to America and I niver +have seen her since. Her father died repenting av his anger aginst +her. But ut was too late. At last, in me old age, Oi came over to +America, hoping Oi cud foind her. But, glory be, Oi had no idea +’twas such a big place! And Oi’ve hunted and Oi’ve hunted and Oi’ve +hunted. But niver a track of her cud Oi foind—me little Annie!” + +Billy’s face was all screwed up, but it was not with laughter. “Did +you ever speak to Mr. Westabrook about it?” + +“Oh, Misther Westabruk done iv’ry t’ing he cud—the foine man that he +is. Adver_tise_ments and _de_tayktives, but wid all his money, he +cudn’t foind out a t’ing. If ut wasn’t for my blissed lamb, I’d pray +to the saints to let me die.” + +Maida knew what they were talking about—Granny had often told her +the sad story of her lost daughter. + +“What town in Ireland did you live in, Granny?” Billy asked. + +“Aldigarey, County Sligo.” “Now don’t you get discouraged, Granny,” +Billy said, “I’m going to find your daughter for you.” + +He jumped to his feet and walked about the room. “I’m something of a +detective myself, and you’ll see I’ll make good on this job if it +takes twenty years.” + +“Oh, Billy, do—please do,” Maida burst in. “It will make Granny so +happy.” + +Granny seemed happier already. She dried her tears. + +“’Tis the good b’y ye are, Misther Billy,” she said gratefully. + +“Yes, m’m,” said Billy. + + + + + + CHAPTER VII: TROUBLE + + +The next week was a week of trouble for Maida. Everything seemed to +go wrong from the first tinkle of the bell, Monday morning, to the +last tinkle Saturday night. + +It began with a conversation. + +Rosie came marching in early Monday, head up, eyes flaming. + +“Maida,” she began at once, in her quickest, briskest tone, “I’ve +got something to tell you. Laura Lathrop came over to Dicky’s house +the other day while the W.M.N.T.’s were meeting and she told us the +greatest mess of stuff about you. I told her I was coming right over +and tell you about it and she said, ‘All right, you can.’ Laura said +that you said that last summer you had a birthday party that you +invited five hundred children to. She said that you said that you +had a May-pole at this party and a fish pond and a Punch and Judy +show and all sorts of things. She said that you said that you had a +big doll-house and a little theater all your own. I said that I +didn’t believe that you told her all that. Did you?” + +“Oh, yes, I told her that—and more,” Maida answered directly. + +“Laura said it was all a pack of lies, but I don’t believe that. Is +it all true?” + +“It’s all true,” Maida said. + +Rosie looked at her hard. “You know, Maida,” she went on after +awhile, “you told me about a lot of birds and animals that your +father had. I thought he kept a bird-place. But Dicky says you told +him that your father had twelve peacocks, not in a store, but in a +place where he lives.” She paused and looked inquiringly at Maida. + +Maida answered the look. “Yes, I told him that.” + +“And it’s all true?” Rosie asked again. + +“Yes, it’s all true,” Maida repeated. + +Rosie hesitated a moment. “Harold Lathrop says that you’re daffy.” + +Maida said nothing. + +“Arthur Duncan says,” Rosie went on more timidly, “that you probably +dreamed those things.” + +Still Maida said nothing. + +“Do you think you did dream them, Maida?” + +Maida smiled. “No, I didn’t dream them.” + +“Well, I thought of another thing,” Rosie went on eagerly. “Miss +Allison told mother that Granny told her that you’d been sick for a +long time. And I thought, maybe you were out of your head and +imagined those things. Oh, Maida,” Rosie’s voice actually coaxed her +to favor this theory, “don’t you think you imagined them?” + +Maida laughed. “No, Rosie,” she said in her quietest voice, “I did +not imagine them.” + +For a moment neither of the two little girls spoke. But they stared, +a little defiantly, into each other’s eyes. + +“What did Dicky say?” Maida asked after awhile. + +“Oh, Dicky said he would believe anything you told him, no matter +what it was. Dicky says he believes you’re a princess in +disguise—like in fairy-tales.” + +“Dear, dear Dicky!” Maida said. “He was the first friend I made in +Primrose Court and I guess he’s the best one.” + +“Well, I guess I’m your friend,” Rosie said, firing up; “I told that +little smarty-cat of a Laura if she ever said one word against you, +I’d slap her good and hard. Only—only—it seems strange that a little +girl who’s just like the rest of us should have story-book things +happening to her all the time. If it’s true—then fairy-tales are +true.” She paused and looked Maida straight in the eye. “I can’t +believe it, Maida. But I know you believe it. And that’s all there +is to it. But you’d better believe I’m your friend.” + +Saying which she marched out. + +Maida’s second trouble began that night. + +It had grown dark. Suddenly, without any warning, the door of the +shop flew open. For an instant three or four voices filled the place +with their yells. Then the door shut. Nothing was heard but the +sound of running feet. + +Granny and Maida rushed to the door. Nobody was in sight. + +“Who was it? What does it mean, Granny?” Maida asked in +bewilderment. “Only naughty b’ys, taysing you,” Granny explained. + +Maida had hardly seated herself when the performance was repeated. +Again she rushed to the door. Again she saw nobody. The third time +she did not stir from her chair. + +Tuesday night the same thing happened. Who the boys were Maida could +not find out. Why they bothered her, she could not guess. + +“Take no notuce av ut, my lamb,” Granny counselled. “When they foind +you pay no attintion to ut, they’ll be afther stopping.” + +Maida followed Granny’s advice. But the annoyance did not cease and +she began to dread the twilight. She made up her mind that she must +put an end to it soon. She knew she could stop it at once by +appealing to Billy Potter. And, yet, somehow, she did not want to +ask for outside help. She had a feeling of pride about handling her +own troubles. + +One afternoon Laura came into the shop. It was the first time that +Maida had seen her since the afternoon of her call and Maida did not +speak. She felt that she could not have anything to do with Laura +after what had happened. But she looked straight at Laura and +waited. + +Laura did not speak either. She looked at Maida as if she had never +seen her before. She carried her head at its highest and she moved +across the room with her most important air. As she stood a moment +gazing at the things in the show case, she had never seemed more +patronizing. + +“A cent’s worth of dulse, please,” she said airily. + +“Dulse?” Maida repeated questioningly; “I guess I haven’t any. What +is dulse?” + +“Haven’t any dulse?” Laura repeated with an appearance of being +greatly shocked. “Do you mean to say you haven’t any dulse?” + +Maida did not answer—she put her lips tight together. + +“This is a healthy shop,” Laura went on in a sneering tone, “no +mollolligobs, no apple-on-the-stick, no tamarinds, no pop-corn +balls, no dulse. Why don’t you sell the things we want? Half the +children in the neighborhood are going down to Main Street to get +them now.” + +She bustled out of the shop. Maida stared after her with wide, +alarmed eyes. For a moment she did not stir. Then she ran into the +living-room and buried her face in Granny’s lap, bursting into +tears. + +“Oh, Granny,” she sobbed, “Laura Lathrop says that half the children +don’t like my shop and they’re going down to Main Street to buy +things. What shall I do? What shall I do?” + +“There, there, acushla,” Granny said soothingly, taking the +trembling little girl on to her lap. “Don’t worry about anny t’ing +that wan says. ’Tis a foine little shop you have, as all the grown +folks says.” + +“But, Granny,” Maida protested passionately, “I don’t want to please +the grown people, I want to please the children. And papa said I +must make the store pay. And now I’m afraid I never will. Oh, what +shall I do?” + +She got no further. A tinkle of the bell, followed by pattering +footsteps, interrupted. In an instant, Rosie, brilliant in her +scarlet cape and scarlet hat, with cheeks and lips the color of +cherries, stood at her side. + +“I saw that hateful Laura come out of here,” she said. “I just knew +she’d come in to make trouble. What did she say to you?” + +Maida told her slowly between her sobs. + +“Horrid little smarty-cat!” was Rosie’s comment and she scowled +until her face looked like a thunder-cloud. + +“I shall never speak to her again,” Maida declared fervently. “But +what shall I do about it, Rosie?—it may be true what she said.” + +“Now don’t you get discouraged, Maida,” Rosie said. “Because I can +tell you just how to get or make those things Laura spoke of.” + +“Oh, can you, Rosie. What would I do without you? I’ll put +everything down in a book so that I shan’t forget them.” + +She limped over to the desk. There the black head bent over the +golden one. + +“What is dulse?” Maida demanded first. + +“Don’t you know what dulse is?” Rosie asked incredulously. “Maida, +you are the queerest child. The commonest things you don’t know +anything about. And yet I suppose if I asked you if you’d seen a +flying-machine, you’d say you had.” + +“I have,” Maida answered instantly, “in Paris.” + +Rosie’s face wrinkled into its most perplexed look. She changed the +subject at once. “Well, dulse is a purple stuff—when you see a lot +of it together, it looks as if a million toy-balloons had burst. +It’s all wrinkled up and tastes salty.” + +Maida thought hard for a moment. Then she burst into laughter, +although the big round tear-drops were still hanging from the tips +of her lashes. “There was a whole drawerful here when I first came. +I remember now I thought it was waste stuff and threw it all away.” + +Rosie laughed too. “The tamarinds you can get from the man who comes +round with the wagon. Mrs. Murdock used to make her own +apples-on-the-stick, mollolligobs and corn-balls. I’ve helped her many a +time. Now I’ll write you a list of stuff to order from the grocer. I’ll +come round after school and we’ll make a batch of all those things. +To-night you get Billy to print a sign, ‘_apples on the stick and +mollolligobs to-day_.’ You put that in the window to-morrow morning +and by to-morrow night, you’ll be all sold out.” + +“Oh, Rosie,” Maida said happily, “I shall be so much obliged to +you!” + +Rosie was as good as her word. She appeared that afternoon wearing a +long-sleeved apron under the scarlet cape. It seemed to Maida that +she worked like lightning, for she made batch after batch of candy, +moving as capably about the stove as an experienced cook. In the +meantime, Maida was popping corn at the fireplace. They mounted +fifty apples on skewers and dipped them, one at a time, into the +boiling candy. They made thirty corn-balls and twenty-five +mollolligobs, which turned out to be round chunks of candy, stuck on +the end of sticks. + +“I never did see such clever children anywhere as there are in +Primrose Court,” Maida said that night with a sigh to Granny. “Rosie +told me that she could make six kinds of candy. And Dicky can cook +as well as his mother. They make me feel so useless. Why, Granny, I +can’t do a single thing that’s any good to anybody.” + +The next day the shop was crowded. By night there was not an apple, +a corn-ball or a mollolligob left. + +“I shall have a sale like this once a week in the future,” Maida +said. “Why, Granny, lots and lots of children came here who’d never +been in the shop before.” + +And so what looked like serious trouble ended very happily. + +Trouble number three was a great deal more serious and it did not, +at first, promise to end well at all. It had to do with Arthur +Duncan. It had been going on for a week before Maida mentioned it to +anybody. But it haunted her very dreams. + +Early Monday morning, Arthur came into the shop. In his usual gruff +voice and with his usual surly manner, he said, “Show me some of +those rubbers in the window.” + +Maida took out a handful of the rubbers—five, she thought—and put +them on the counter. While Arthur looked them over, she turned to +replace a paper-doll which she had knocked down. + +“Guess I won’t take one to-day,” Arthur said, while her back was +still turned, and walked out. + +When Maida put the rubbers back, she discovered that there were only +four. She made up her mind that she had not counted right and +thought no more of the incident. + +Two days later, Arthur Duncan came in again. Maida had just been +selling some pencils—pretty striped ones with a blue stone in the +end. Three of them were left lying out on the counter. Arthur asked +her to show him some penholders. Maida took three from the shelves +back of her. He bought one of these. After he had gone, she +discovered that there were only two pencils left on the counter. + +“One of them must have rolled off,” Maida thought. But although she +looked everywhere, she could not find it. The incident of the rubber +occurred to her. She felt a little troubled but she resolved to put +both circumstances out of her mind. + +A day or two later, Arthur Duncan came in for the third time. It +happened that Granny was out marketing. + +Piled on the counter was a stack of blank-books—pretty books they +were, with a child’s head in color on the cover. Arthur asked for +letter-paper. Maida turned back to the shelf. With her hand on the +sliding door, she stopped, half-stunned. + +_Reflected in the glass she saw Arthur Duncan stow one of the blank +books away in his pocket._ + +Maida felt sick all over. She did not know what to do. She did not +know what to say. + +She fumbled with trembling hands among the things on the shelf. She +dreaded to turn for fear her face would express what she had seen. + +“Perhaps he’ll pay for it,” she thought; “I hope he will.” + +But Arthur made no offer to pay. He looked over the letter-paper +that Maida, with downcast eyes, put before him, decided that he did +not want any after all, and walked coolly from the shop. + +Granny, coming in a few moments later, was surprised to find Maida +leaning on the counter, her face buried in her hands. + +“What’s the matter with my lamb?” the old lady asked cheerfully. + +“Nothing, Granny,” Maida said. But she did not meet Granny’s eye and +during dinner she was quiet and serious. + +That night Billy Potter called. “Well, how goes the _Bon Marché of_ +Charlestown?” he asked cheerfully. + +“Billy,” Maida said gravely, “if you found that a little boy—I can’t +say what his name is—was stealing from you, what would you do?” + +Billy considered the question as gravely as she had asked it. “Tell +the policeman on the beat and get him to throw a scare into him,” he +said at last. + +“I guess that’s what I’ll have to do.” But Maida’s tone was +mournful. + +But Granny interrupted. + +“Don’t you do ut, my lamb—don’t you do ut!” She turned to them +both—they had never seen her blue eyes so fiery before. “Suppose you +was one av these poor little chilthren that lives round here that’s +always had harrd wurruds for their meals and hunger for their +pillow, wudn’t you be afther staling yersilf if ut came aisy-loike +and nobody was luking?” + +Neither Billy nor Maida spoke for a moment. + +“I guess Granny’s right,” Billy said finally. + +“I guess she is,” Maida said with a sigh. + +It was three days before Arthur Duncan came into the shop again. But +in the meantime, Maida went one afternoon to play with Dicky. Dicky +was drawing at a table when Maida came in. She glanced at his work. +He was using a striped pencil with a blue stone in its end, a +blank-book with the picture of a little girl on the cover, a rubber of +a kind very familiar to her. Maida knew certainly that Dicky had +bought none of these things from her. She knew as certainly that +they were the things Arthur Duncan had stolen. What was the +explanation of the mystery? She went to bed that night miserably +unhappy. + +Her heart beat pit-a-pat the next time she saw Arthur open the door. +She folded her hands close together so that he should not see that +she was trembling. She began to wish that she had followed Billy’s +advice. Sitting in the shop all alone—Granny, it happened again, was +out—it occurred to her that it was, perhaps, too serious a situation +for a little girl to deal with. + +She had made up her mind that when Arthur was in the shop, she would +not turn her back to him. She was determined not to give him the +chance to fall into temptation. But he asked for pencil-sharpeners +and pencil-sharpeners were kept in the lower drawer. There was +nothing for her to do but to get down on the floor. She remembered +with a sense of relief that she had left no stock out on the +counter. She knelt upright on the floor, seeking for the box. +Suddenly, reflected in the glass door, she saw another terrifying +picture. + +_Arthur Duncan’s arm was just closing the money drawer._ + +For an instant Maida felt so sick at heart that she wanted to run +back into the living-room, throw herself into Granny’s big chair and +cry her eyes out. Then suddenly all this weakness went. A feeling, +such as she had never known, came into its place. She was still +angry but she was singularly cool. She felt no more afraid of Arthur +Duncan than of the bowl of dahlias, blooming on the counter. + +She whirled around in a flash and looked him straight in the eye. + +“If there is anything in this shop that you want so much that you +are willing to steal, tell me what it is and I’ll give it to you,” +she said. + +“Aw, what are you talking about?” Arthur demanded. He attempted to +out-stare her. + +But Maida kept her eyes steadily on his. “You know what I’m talking +about well enough,” she said quietly. “In the last week you’ve +stolen a rubber and a pencil and a blank-book from me and just now +you tried to take some money from the money-drawer.” + +Arthur sneered. “How are you going to prove it?” he asked +impudently. + +Maida was thoroughly angry. But something inside warned her that she +must not give way to temper. For all her life, she had been +accustomed to think before she spoke. Indeed, she herself had never +been driven or scolded. Her father had always reasoned with her. +Doctors and nurses had always reasoned with her. Even Granny had +always reasoned with her. So, now, she thought very carefully before +she spoke again. But she kept her eyes fixed on Arthur. His eyes did +not move from hers but, in some curious way, she knew that he was +uneasy. + +“I can’t prove it,” she said at last, “and I hadn’t any idea of +trying to. I’m only warning you that you must not come in here if +you’re not to be trusted. And I told you the truth when I said I +would rather give you anything in the shop than have you steal it. +For I think you must need those things very badly to be willing to +get them that way. I don’t believe anybody _wants_ to steal. Now +when you want anything so bad as that, come to me and I’ll see if I +can get it for you.” + +Arthur stared at her as if he had not a word on his tongue. “If you +think you can frighten me,—” he said. Then, without ending his +sentence, he swaggered out of the shop. But to Maida his swagger +seemed like something put on to conceal another feeling. + +Maida suddenly felt very tired. She wished that Granny Flynn would +come back. She wanted Granny to take her into her lap, to cuddle +her, to tell her some merry little tale of the Irish fairies. But, +instead, the bell rang and another customer came in. While she was +waiting on her, Maida noticed somebody come stealthily up to the +window, look in and then duck down. She wondered if it might be +Billy playing one of his games on her. + +The customer went out. In a few moments the bell tinkled again. +Maida had been leaning against the counter, her tired head on her +outstretched arms. She looked up. It was Arthur Duncan. + +He strode straight over to her. + +“Here’s three cents for your rubber,” he said, “and five for your +pencil, five for the blank book and there’s two dimes I took out of +the money-drawer.” + +Maida did not know what to say. The tears came to her eyes and +rolled down her cheeks. Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to +the other in intense embarrassment. + +“I didn’t know it would make you feel as bad as that,” he said. + +“I don’t feel bad,” Maida sobbed—and to prove it she smiled while +the tears ran down her cheeks—“I feel glad.” + +What he would have answered to this she never knew. For at that +moment the door flew open. The little rowdy boys who had been +troubling her so much lately, let out a series of blood-curdling +yells. + +“What’s that?” Arthur asked. + +“I don’t know who they are,” Maida said wearily, “but they do that +three or four times every night. I don’t know what to do about it.” + +“Well, I do,” Arthur said. “You wait!” + +He went over to the door and waited, flattening himself against the +wall. After a long silence, they could hear footsteps tip-toeing on +the bricks outside. The door flew open. Arthur Duncan leaped like a +cat through the opening. There came back to Maida the sound of +running, then a pause, then another sound very much as if two or +three naughty little heads were being vigorously knocked together. +She heard Arthur say: + +“Let me catch one of you doing that again and I’ll lick you till you +can’t stand up. And remember I’ll be watching for you every night +now.” + +Maida did not see him again then. But just before dinner the bell +rang. When Maida opened the door there stood Arthur. + +“I had this kitten and I thought you might like him,” he said +awkwardly, holding out a little bundle of gray fluff. + +“Want it!” Maida said. She seized it eagerly. “Oh, thank you, +Arthur, ever so much. Oh, Granny, look at this darling kit-kat. What +a ball of fluff he is! I’ll call him Fluff. And he isn’t an Angora +or a prize kitty of any kind—just a beautiful plain everyday cat—the +kind I’ve always wanted!” + +Even this was not all. After dinner the shop bell rang again. This +time it was Arthur and Rosie. Rosie’s lips were very tight as if she +had made up her mind to some bold deed but her flashing eyes showed +her excitement. + +“Can we see you alone for a moment, Maida?” she asked in her most +business-like tones. + +Wondering, Maida shut the door to the living-room and came back to +them. + +“Maida,” Rosie began, “Arthur told me all about the rubber and the +pencil and the blank book and the dimes. Of course, I felt pretty +bad when I heard about it. But I wanted Arthur to come right over +here and explain the whole thing to you. You see Arthur took those +things to give away to Dicky because Dicky has such a hard time +getting anything he wants.” + +“Yes, I saw them over at Dicky’s,” Maida said. + +“And then, there was a great deal more to it that Arthur’s just told +me and I thought you ought to know it at once. You see Arthur’s +father belongs to a club that meets once a month and Arthur goes +there a lot with him. And those men think that plenty of people have +things that they have no right to—oh, like automobiles—I mean, +things that they haven’t earned. And the men in Mr. Duncan’s club +say that it’s perfectly right to take things away from people who +have too much and give them to people who have too little. But I say +that may be all right for grown people but when children do it, it’s +just plain _stealing_. And that’s all there is to it! But I wanted +you to know that Arthur thought it was right—well sort of right, you +understand—when he took those things. You don’t think so now, do +you, after the talking-to I’ve given you?” She turned severely on +Arthur. + +Arthur shuffled and looked embarrassed. “No,” he said sheepishly, +“not until you’re grown up.” + +“But what I wanted to say next, Maida,” Rosie continued, “is, please +not to tell Dicky. He would be so surprised—and then he wouldn’t +keep the things that Arthur gave him. And of course now that Arthur +has paid for them—they’re all right for him to have.” + +“Of course I wouldn’t tell anybody,” Maida said in a shocked voice, +“not even Granny or Billy—not even my father.” + +“Then that’s settled,” Rosie said with a sigh. “Good night.” + +The next day the following note reached Maida: + + + You are cordully invited to join the W.M.N.T. Club which meets + three times a week at the house of Miss Rosie Brine, or Mr. + Richard Dore or Mr. Arthur Duncan. + + P.S. The name means, WE MUST NEVER TELL. + + +Maida dreamed nothing but happy dreams that night. + + + + + + CHAPTER VIII: A RAINY DAY + + +The next day it rained dismally. Maida had been running the shop for +three weeks but this was her first experience with stormy weather. +Because she, herself, had never been allowed to set her foot +outdoors when the weather was damp, she expected that she would see +no children that day. But long before the bell rang they crowded in +wet streaming groups into the shop. And at nine the lines +disappearing into the big school doorways seemed as long as ever. + +Even the Clark twins in rubber boots, long rain-capes and a baby +umbrella came in to spend their daily pennies. + +“I guess it’ll be one session, Maida,” Dorothy whispered. + +“Oh goody, Dorothy!” Mabel lisped. “Don’t you love one session, +Maida?” + +Maida was ashamed to confess to two such tiny girls that she did not +know what “one session” meant. But she puzzled over it the whole +morning. If Rosie and Arthur had come in she would have asked them. +But neither of them appeared. Indeed, they were not anywhere in the +lines—Maida looked very carefully. + +At twelve o’clock the school bell did not ring. In surprise, Maida +craned out of the window to consult the big church clock. It agreed +exactly with the tall grandfather’s clock in the living-room. Both +pointed to twelve, then to five minutes after and ten and +fifteen—still no bell. + +A little later Dicky came swinging along, the sides of his old rusty +raincoat flapping like the wings of some great bird. + +“It’s one-session, Maida,” he said jubilantly, “did you hear the +bell?” + +“What’s one session, Dicky?” Maida asked. + +“Why, when it’s too stormy for the children to go to school in the +afternoon the fire-bells ring twenty-two at quarter to twelve. They +keep all the classes in until one o’clock though.” + +“Oh, that’s why they don’t come out,” Maida said. + +At one o’clock the umbrellas began to file out of the school door. +The street looked as if it had grown a monster crop of shiny black +toad-stools. But it was the only sign of life that the neighborhood +showed for the rest of the day. The storm was too violent for even +the big boys and girls to brave. A very long afternoon went by. Not +a customer came into the shop. Maida felt very lonely. She wandered +from shop to living-room and from living-room to chamber. She tried +to read. She sewed a little. She even popped corn for a lonesome +fifteen minutes. But it seemed as if the long dark day would never +go. + +As they were sitting down to dinner that night, Billy bounced in—his +face pink and wet, his eyes sparkling like diamonds from his +conflict with the winds. + +“Oh, Billy, how glad I am to see you,” Maida said. “It’s been the +lonesomest day.” + +“Sure, the sight av ye’s grand for sore eyes,” said Granny. + +Maida had noticed that Billy’s appearance always made the greatest +difference in everything. Before he came, the noise of the wind +howling about the store made Maida sad. Now it seemed the jolliest +of sounds. And when at seven, Rosie appeared, Maida’s cup of +happiness brimmed over. + +While Billy talked with Granny, the two little girls rearranged the +stock. + +“My mother was awful mad with me just before supper,” Rosie began at +once. “It seems as if she was so cross lately that there’s no living +with her. She picks on me all the time. That’s why I’m here. She +sent me to bed. But I made up my mind I wouldn’t go to bed. I +climbed out my bedroom window and came over here.” + +“Oh, Rosie, I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Maida said. “Oh, do run +right home! Think how worried your mother would be if she went up +into your room and found you gone. She wouldn’t know what had become +of you.” + +“Well, then, what makes her so strict with me?” Rosie cried. Her +eyes had grown as black as thunder clouds. The scowl that made her +face so sullen had come deep between her eyebrows. + +“Oh, how I wish I had a mother,” Maida said longingly. “I guess I +wouldn’t say a word to her, no matter how strict she was.” + +“I guess you don’t know what you’d do until you tried it,” Rosie +said. + +Granny and Billy had been curiously quiet in the other room. +Suddenly Billy Potter stepped to the door. + +“I’ve just thought of a great game, children,” he said. “But we’ve +got to play it in the kitchen. Bring some crayons, Maida.” + +The children raced after him. “What is it?” they asked in chorus. + +Billy did not answer. He lifted Granny’s easy-chair with Granny, +knitting and all, and placed it in front of the kitchen stove. Then +he began to draw a huge rectangle on the clean, stone floor. + +“Guess,” he said. + +“Sure and Oi know what ut’s going to be,” smiled Granny. + +Maida and Rosie watched him closely. Suddenly they both shouted +together: + +“Hopscotch! Hopscotch!” + +“Right you are!” Billy approved. He searched among the coals in the +hod until he found a hard piece of slate. + +“All ready now!” he said briskly. “Your turn, first, Rosie, because +you’re company.” + +Rosie failed on “fivesy.” Maida’s turn came next and she failed on +“threesy.” Billy followed Maida but he hopped on the line on +“twosy.” + +“Oi belave Oi cud play that game, ould as Oi am,” Granny said +suddenly. + +“I bet you could,” Billy said. + +“Sure, ’twas a foine player Oi was when Oi was a little colleen.” + +“Come on, Granny,” Billy said. + +The two little girls jumped up and down, clapping their hands and +shrieking, “Granny’s going to play!” “Granny’s going to play!” They +made so much noise finally, that Billy had to threaten to stand them +on their heads in a corner. + +Granny took her turn after Billy. She hopped about like a very +active and a very benevolent old fairy. + +“Oh, doesn’t she look like the Dame in fairy tales?” Maida said. + +They played for a half an hour. And who do you suppose won? Not +Maida with all her new-found strength, not Rosie with all her +nervous energy, not Billy with all his athletic training. + +“Mrs. Delia Flynn, champion of America and Ireland,” Billy greeted +the victor. “Granny, we’ll have to enter you in the next Olympic +games.” + +They returned after this breathless work to the living-room. + +“Now I’m going to tell you a story,” Billy announced. + +“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Maida squealed. “Do! Billy tells the most wonderful +stories, Rosie—stories he’s heard and stories he’s read. But the +most wonderful ones are those that he makes up as he goes along.” + +The two little girls settled themselves on the hearth-rug at Billy’s +feet. Granny sat, not far off, working with double speed at her +neglected knitting. + +“Once upon a time,” Billy said, “there lived a little girl named +Klara. And Klara was the naughtiest little girl in the world. She +was a pretty child and a clever child and everybody would have loved +her if she had only given them a chance. But how can you love a +child who is doing naughty things all the time? Particularly was she +a great trial to her mother. That poor lady was not well and needed +care and attention, herself. But instead of giving her these, Klara +gave her only hard words and disobedient acts. The mother used +sometimes to punish her little daughter but it seemed as if this +only made her worse. Both father and mother were in despair about +her. Klara seemed to be growing steadily worse and worse. And, +indeed, lately, she had added to her naughtiness by threatening to +run away. + +“One night, it happened, Klara had been so bad that her mother had +put her to bed early. The moment her mother left the room, Klara +whipped over to the window. ‘I’m going to dress myself and climb out +the window and run away and never come back, she said to herself.’ + +“The house in which Klara lived was built on the side of a cliff, +overlooking the sea. As Klara stood there in her nightgown the moon +began to rise and come up out of the water. Now the moonrise is +always a beautiful sight and Klara stopped for a moment to watch it, +fascinated. + +“It seemed to her that she had never seen the moon look so big +before. And certainly she had never seen it such a color—a soft deep +orange. In fact, it might have been an immense orange—or better, a +monster pumpkin stuck on the horizon-line. + +“The strange thing about the moon, though, was that it grew larger +instead of smaller. It rose higher and higher, growing bigger and +bigger, until it was half-way up the curve of the sky. Then it +stopped short. Klara watched it, her eyes bulging out of her head. +In all her experience she had never seen such a surprising thing. +And while she watched, another remarkable thing happened. A great +door in the moon opened suddenly and there on the threshold stood a +little old lady. A strange little old lady she was—a little old lady +with short red skirts and high, gayly-flowered draperies at her +waist, a little old lady with a tall black, sugar-loaf hat, a great +white ruff around her neck and little red shoes with bright silver +buckles on them—a little old lady who carried a black cat perched on +one shoulder and a broomstick in one hand. + +“The little old lady stooped down and lifted something over the +threshold. Klara strained her eyes to see what it was. It looked +like a great roll of golden carpeting. With a sudden deft movement +the little old lady threw it out of the door. It flew straight +across the ocean, unrolling as swiftly as a ball of twine that +you’ve flung across the room. It came nearer and nearer. The farther +it got from the moon, the faster it unrolled. After a while it +struck against the shore right under Klara’s window and Klara saw +that it was the wake of the moon. She watched. + +“The little old lady had disappeared from the doorway in the moon +but the door did not close. And, suddenly, still another wonderful +thing happened. The golden wake lifted itself gradually from the +water until it was on a level with Klara’s window. Bending down she +touched it with both her soft little hands. It was as firm and hard +as if it had been woven from strands of gold. + +“‘Now’s my time to run away from my cross mother,’ Klara said to +herself. ‘I guess that nice old lady in the moon wants me to come +and be her little girl. Well, I’ll go. I guess they’ll be sorry in +this house to-morrow when they wake up and find they’re never going +to see me again.’ + +“Opening the window gently that nobody might hear her, she stepped +on to the Wake of Gold. It felt cool and hard to her little bare +feet. It inclined gently from her window. She ran down the slope +until she reached the edge of the sea. There she hesitated. For a +moment it seemed a daring thing to walk straight out to the moon +with nothing between her and the water but a path of gold. Then she +recalled how her mother had sent her to bed and her heart hardened. +She started briskly out. + +“From Klara’s window it had looked as though it would take her only +a few moments to get to the moon. But the farther she went, the +farther from her the doorway seemed to go. But she did not mind that +the walk was so long because it was so pretty. Looking over the edge +of the Wake of Gold, deep down in the water, she could see all kinds +of strange sights. + +“At one place a school of little fish swam up to the surface of the +water. Klara knelt down and watched their pretty, graceful motions. +The longer she gazed the more fish she saw and the more beautiful +they seemed. Pale-blue fishes with silver spots. Pale-pink ones with +golden stripes. Gorgeous red ones with jewelled black horns. +Brilliant yellow and green ones that shone like phosphorus. And here +and there, gliding among them, were what seemed little angel-fish +like living rainbows, whose filmy wing-like fins changed color when +they swam. + +“Klara reached into the water and tried to catch some of these +marvelous beings. + +“But at her first motion—bing! The water looked as if it were +streaked with rainbow lightning. Swish! It was dull and clear again, +with nothing between her and the quiet, seaweed-covered bottom. + +“A little farther along Klara came across a wonderful sea-grotto. +Again she knelt down on the Wake of Gold and watched. At the bottom +the sand was so white and shiny that it might have been made of +star-dust. Growing up from it were beds of marvelous seaflowers, +opening and shutting delicate petals, beautiful seafans that waved +with every ripple, high, thick shrubs and towering trees in which +the fishes had built their nests. In and out among all this +undergrowth, frisked tiny sea-horses, ridden by mischievous +sea-urchins. They leaped and trotted and galloped as if they were so +happy that they did not know what to do. Klara felt that she must +play with them. She put one little foot into the water to attract +their attention. Bing! The water seemed alive with scuttling things. +Swish! The grotto was so quiet that she could not believe that there +was anything living in it. + +“A little farther on, Klara came upon a sight even more wonderful +than this—a village of mer-people. It was set so far down in the +water that it seemed a million miles away. And yet the water was so +clear that she felt she could touch the housetops. + +“The mer-houses seemed to be made of a beautiful, sparkling white +coral with big, wide-open windows through which the tide drifted. +The mer-streets seemed to be cobbled in pearl, the sidewalks to be +paved in gold. At their sides grew mer-trees, the highest she had +ever seen, with all kinds of beautiful singing fish roosting in +their branches. Little mer-boats of carved pink coral with purple +seaweed sails or of mother-of-pearl with rosy, mer-flower-petal +sails, were floating through the streets. In some, sat little +mer-maidens, the sunlight flashing on their pretty green scales, on +their long, golden tresses, on the bright mirrors they held in their +hands. Other boats held little mer-boys who made beautiful music on +the harps they carried. + +“At one end of the mer-village Klara could see one palace, bigger +and more beautiful than all the others. Through an open window she +caught a glimpse of the mer-king—a jolly old fellow with a fat red +face and a long white beard sitting on a throne of gold. At his side +reclined the mer-queen—a very beautiful lady with a skin as white as +milk and eyes as green as emeralds. Little mer-princes and little +mer-princesses were playing on the floor with tiny mer-kittens and +tinier mer-puppies. One sweet little mer-baby was tiptailing towards +the window with a pearl that she had stolen from her sister’s +coronet. + +“It seemed to Klara that this mer-village was the most enchanting +place that she had ever seen in her life. Oh, how she wanted to live +there! + +“‘Oh, good mer-king,’ she called entreatingly, ‘and good mer-queen, +please let me come to live in your palace.’ + +“Bing! The water rustled and roiled as if all the birds of paradise +that the world contained had taken flight. Swish! It was perfectly +quiet again. The mer-village was as deserted as a graveyard. + +“‘Well, if they don’t want me, they shan’t get me, Klara said. And +she walked on twice as proud.’ + +“By this time she was getting closer and closer to the moon. The +nearer she came the bigger it grew. Now it filled the entire sky. +The door had remained open all this time. Through it she could see a +garden—a garden more beautiful than any fairy-tale garden that she +had ever read about. From the doorway silvery paths stretched +between hedges as high as a giant’s head. Sometimes these paths +ended in fountains whose spray twisted into all kinds of fairy-like +shapes. Sometimes these paths seemed to stop flush against the +clouds. Nearer stretched flower-beds so brilliant that you would +have thought a kaleidoscope had broken on the ground. Birds, like +living jewels, flew in and out through the tree-branches. They sang +so hard that it seemed to Klara they must burst their little +throats. From the branches hung all kinds of precious stones, all +kinds of delicious-looking fruits and candies. + +“Klara could not scramble through the door quickly enough. + +“But as she put one foot on the threshold the little old lady +appeared. She looked as if she had stepped out of a fairy-tale. And +yet Klara had a strange feeling of discomfort when she looked at +her. It seemed to Klara that the old lady’s mouth was cruel and her +eyes hard. + +“‘Are you the little girl who’s run away?’ the old lady asked. + +“‘Yes,’ Klara faltered. + +“‘And you want to live in the Kingdom of the Moon?’ + +“‘Yes.’ + +“‘Enter then.’ + +“The old lady stepped aside and Klara marched across the threshold. +She felt the door swinging to behind her. She heard a bang as it +closed, shutting her out of the world and into the moon. + +“And then—and then—what do you think happened?” + +Billy stopped for a moment. Rosie and Maida rose to their knees. + +“What happened?” they asked breathlessly. + +“The garden vanished as utterly as if it were a broken soap-bubble. +Gone were the trees and the flowers; gone were the fountains and the +birds; gone, too, were the jewels, the candies and the fruits. + +“The place had become a huge, dreary waste, stretching as far as +Klara could see into the distance. It seemed to her as if all the +trash that the world had outgrown had been dumped here—it was so +covered with heaps of old rubbish. + +“Klara turned to the old lady. She had not changed except that her +cruel mouth sneered. + +“Klara burst into tears. ‘I want to go home,’ she screamed. ‘Let me +go back to my mother.’ + +“The old lady only smiled. ‘You open that door and let me go back to +my mother,’ Klara cried passionately. + +“‘But I can’t open it,’ the old lady said. ‘It’s locked. I have no +keys.’ + +“‘Where are the keys?’ Klara asked. + +“The old lady pointed to the endless heaps of rubbish. ‘There, +somewhere,’ she said. + +“‘I’ll find them,’ Klara screamed, ‘and open that door and run back +to my home. You shan’t keep me from my own dear mother, you wicked +woman.’ + +“‘Nobody wants to keep you,’ the old lady said. ‘You came of your +own accord. Find the keys if you want to go back.’ + +“That was true and Klara wisely did not answer. But you can fancy +how she regretted coming. She began to search among the dump-heaps. +She could find no keys. But the longer she hunted the more +determined she grew. It seemed to her that she searched for weeks +and weeks. + +“It was very discouraging, very dirty and very fatiguing work. She +moved always in a cloud of dust. At times it seemed as if her back +would break from bending so much. Often she had to bite her lips to +keep from screaming with rage after she had gone through a +rubbish-pile as high as her head and, still, no keys. All kinds of +venomous insects stung her. All kinds of vines and brambles scratched +her. All kinds of stickers and thistles pricked her. Her little feet +and hands bled all the time. But still she kept at it. After that first +conversation, Klara never spoke with the old lady again. After a few +days Klara left her in the distance. At the end of a week, the +moon-door was no longer in sight when Klara looked back. + +“But during all those weeks of weary work Klara had a chance to +think. She saw for the first time what a naughty little girl she had +been and how she had worried the kindest mother in the world. Her +longing for her mother grew so great at times that she had to sit +down and cry. But after a while she would dry her eyes and go at the +hunt with fresh determination. + +“One day she caught a glint of something shining from a clump of +bushes. She had to dig and dig to get at it for about these bushes +the ashes were packed down hard. But finally she uncovered a pair of +iron keys. On one was printed in letters of gold, ‘I’M SORRY,’ on +the other, ‘I’LL NEVER DO SO AGAIN.’ + +“Klara seized the keys joyfully and ran all the long way back to the +great door. It had two locks. She put one key in the upper lock, +turned it—a great bolt jarred. She put the other key into the second +lock, turned it—a great bolt jarred. The door swung open. + +“‘I’m sorry,’ Klara whispered to herself. ‘I’ll never do so again.’ + +“She had a feeling that as long as she said those magic words, +everything would go well with her. + +“Extending out from the door was the Wake of Gold. Klara bounded +through the opening and ran. She turned back after a few moments and +there was the old lady with her cat and her broomstick standing in +the doorway. But the old lady’s face had grown very gentle and kind. + +“Klara did not look long. She ran as fast as she could pelt across +the golden path, whispering, ‘I’m sorry. I will never do so again. +I’m sorry. I will never do so again. I’m sorry. I will never do so +again.’ + +“And as she ran all the little mer-people came to the surface of the +water to encourage her. The little mer-maidens flashed their mirrors +at her. The little mer-boys played wonderful music on their harps. +The mer-king gave her a jolly smile and the mer-queen blew her a +kiss. All the little mer-princesses and all the little mer-princes +held up their pets to her. Even the mer-baby clapped her dimpled +hands. + +“And farther on all the little sea horses with the sea urchins on +their backs assembled in bobbing groups. And farther on all the +little rainbow fishes gathered in shining files. As she ran all the +scratches and gashes in her flesh healed up. + +“After a while she reached her own window. Opening it, she jumped +in. Turning to pull it down she saw the old lady disappear from the +doorway of the moon, saw the door close upon her, saw the Wake of +Gold melt and fall into the sea where it lay in a million gleaming +spangles, saw the moon float up into the sky, growing smaller and +smaller and paler and paler until it was no larger than a silver +plate. And now it was the moon no longer—it was the sun. Its rays +were shining hot on her face. She was back in her little bed. Her +mother’s arms were about her and Klara was saying, ‘I’m SORRY. I +WILL NEVER DO SO AGAIN.’” + + ---------------------- + +For a long time after Billy finished the room was very quiet. Then +suddenly Rosie jumped to her feet. “That was a lovely story, Billy,” +she said. “But I guess I don’t want to hear any more now. I think +I’ll go home.” + + + + + + CHAPTER IX: WORK + + +It was still raining when Maida got up the next day. It rained all +the morning. She listened carefully at a quarter to twelve for the +one-session bell but it did not ring. Just before school began in +the afternoon Rosie came into the shop. Maida saw at once that +something had happened to her. Rosie’s face looked strange and she +dragged across the room instead of pattering with her usual quick, +light step. + +“What do you think’s happened, Maida?” Rosie asked. + +“I don’t know. Oh, what?” Maida asked affrighted. + +“When I came home from school this noon mother wasn’t there. But +Aunt Theresa was there—she’d cooked the dinner. She said that mother +had gone away for a visit and that she wouldn’t be back for some +time. She said she was going to keep house for father and me while +mother was gone. I feel dreadfully homesick and lonesome without +mother.” + +“Oh Rosie, I am sorry,” Maida said. “But perhaps your mother won’t +stay long. Do you like your Aunt Theresa?” + +“Oh, yes, I like her. But of course she isn’t mother.” + +“No, of course. Nobody is like your mother.” + +“Oh, yes; there’s something else I had to tell you. The W.M.N.T.’s +are going to meet at Dicky’s after school this afternoon. Be sure to +come, Maida.” + +“Of course I’ll come.” Maida’s whole face sparkled. “That is, if +Granny doesn’t think it’s too wet.” + +Rosie lingered for a few moments but she did not seem like her usual +happy-go-lucky self. And when she left, Maida noticed that instead +of running across the street she actually walked. + +All the morning long Maida talked of nothing to Granny but the +prospective meeting of the W.M.N.T.’s. “Just think, Granny, I never +belonged to a club before,” she said again and again. + +Very early she had put out on her bed the clothes that she intended +to wear—a tanbrown serge of which she was particularly fond, and her +favorite “tire” of a delicate, soft lawn. She kept rushing to the +window to study the sky. It continued to look like the inside of a +dull tin cup. She would not have eaten any lunch at all if Granny +had not told her that she must. And her heart sank steadily all the +afternoon for the rain continued to come down. + +“I don’t suppose I can go, Granny,” she faltered when the clock +struck four. + +“Sure an you _can_,” Granny responded briskly. + +But she wrapped Maida up, as Maida herself said: “As if I was one of +papa’s carved crystals come all the way from China.” + +First Granny put on a sweater, then a coat, then over all a +raincoat. She put a hood on her head and a veil over that. She made +her wear rubber boots and take an umbrella. Maida got into a gale of +laughter during the dressing. + +“I ought to be wrapped in excelsior now,” she said. “If I fall down +in the puddle in the court, Granny,” she threatened merrily, “I +never can pick myself up. I’ll either have to roll and roll and roll +until I get on to dry land or I’ll have to wait until somebody comes +and shovels me out.” + +But she did not fall into the puddle. She walked carefully along the +edge and then ran as swiftly as her clothes and lameness would +permit. She arrived in Dicky’s garret, red-cheeked and breathless. + +Arthur and Rosie had already come. Rosie was playing on the floor +with Delia and the puppy that she had rescued from the tin-can +persecution. Rosie was growling, the dog was yelping and Delia was +squealing—but all three with delight. + +Arthur and Dicky sat opposite each other, working at the round +table. + +“What do you think of that dog now, Maida?” Rosie asked proudly. +“His name is ‘Tag.’ You wouldn’t know him for the same dog, would +you? Isn’t he a nice-looking little puppy?” + +Tag did look like another dog. He wore a collar and his yellowy coat +shone like satin. His whole manner had changed. He came running over +to Maida and stood looking at her with the most spirited air in the +world, his head on one side, one paw up and one ear cocked +inquisitively. His tail wriggled so fast that Delia thinking it some +wonderful new toy, kept trying to catch it and hold it in her little +fingers. + +“He’s a lovely doggie,” Maida said. “I wish I’d brought Fluff.” + +“And did you ever see such a dear baby,” Rosie went on, hugging +Delia. “Oh, if I only had a baby brother or sister!” + +“She’s a darling,” Maida agreed heartily. “Babies are so much more +fun than dolls, don’t you think so, Rosie?” + +“Dolls!” No words can express the contempt that was in Miss Brine’s +accent. + +“What are you doing, Dicky?” Maida asked, limping over to the table. + +“Making things,” Dicky said cheerfully. + +On the table were piles of mysterious-looking objects made entirely +of paper. Some were of white paper and others of brown, but they +were all decorated with trimmings of colored tissue. + +“What are they?” Maida asked. “Aren’t they lovely? I never saw +anything like them in my life.” + +Dicky blushed all over his face at this compliment but it was +evident that he was delighted. “Well, those are paper-boxes,” he +said, pointing to the different piles of things, “and those are +steamships. Those are the old-fashioned kind with double +smokestacks. Those are double-boats, jackets, pants, badges, +nose-pinchers, lamp-lighters, firemen’s caps and soldier caps.” + +“Oh, that’s why you buy all that colored paper,” Maida said in a +tone of great satisfaction. “I’ve often wondered.” She examined +Dicky’s work carefully. She could see that it was done with +remarkable precision and skill. “Oh, what fun to do things like +that. I do wish you’d show me how to make them, Dicky. I’m such a +useless girl. I can’t make a single thing.” + +“I’ll show you, sure,” Dicky offered generously. + +“What are you making so many for?” Maida queried. + +“Well, you see it’s this way,” Dicky began in a business-like air. +“Arthur and Rosie and I are going to have a fair. We’ve had a fair +every spring and every fall for the last three years. That’s how we +get our money for Christmas and the Fourth of July. Arthur whittles +things out of wood—he’ll show you what he can do in a minute—he’s a +crackajack. Rosie makes candy. And I make these paper things.” + +“And do you make much money?” Maida asked, deeply interested. + +“Don’t make any money at all,” Dicky said. “The children pay us in +nails. I charge them ten nails a-piece for the easy things and twenty +nails for the hardest. Arthur can get more for his stuff because +it’s harder to do.” + +“But what do you want nails for?” Maida asked in bewilderment. + +“Why, nails are junk.” + +“And what’s junk?” + +The three children stared at her. “Don’t you know what _junk_ is, +Maida?” Rosie asked in despair. + +“No.” + +“Junk’s old iron,” Dicky explained. “And you sell it to the junkman. +Once we made forty cents out of one of these fairs. One reason we’re +beginning so early this year, I’ve got something very particular I +want to buy my mother for a Christmas present. Can you keep a +secret, Maida?” + +Maida nodded. + +“Well, it’s a fur collar for her neck. They have them down in a +store on Main street every winter—two dollars and ninetyeight cents. +It seems an awful lot but I’ve got over a dollar saved up. And I +guess I can do it if I work hard.” + +“How much have you made ordinarily?” Maida asked thoughtfully. + +“Once we made forty cents a-piece but that’s the most.” + +“I tell you what you do,” Maida burst out impetuously after a moment +of silence in which she considered this statement. “When the time +comes for you to hold your fair, I’ll lend you my shop for a day. +I’ll take all the things out of the window and I’ll clean all the +shelves off and you boys can put your things there. I’ll clear out +the showcases for Rosie’s candy. Won’t that be lovely?” She smiled +happily. + +“It would be grand business for us,” Dicky said soberly, “but +somehow it doesn’t seem quite fair to you.” + +“Oh, please don’t think of that,” Maida said. “I’d just love to do +it. And you must teach me how to make things so that I can help you. +You will take the shop, Dicky?” she pleaded. “And you, Rosie? And +Arthur?” She looked from one to the other with all her heart in her +eyes. + +But nobody spoke for a moment. “It seems somehow as if we oughtn’t +to,” Dicky said awkwardly at last. + +Maida’s lip trembled. At first she could not understand. Here she +was aching to do a kindness to these three friends of hers. And +they, for some unknown reason, would not permit it. It was not that +they disliked her, she knew. What was it? She tried to put herself +in their place. Suddenly it came to her what the difficulty was. +They did not want to be so much in her debt. How could she prevent +that? She must let them do something for her that would lessen that +debt. But what? She thought very hard. In a flash it came to her—a +plan by which she could make it all right. + +“You see,” she began eagerly, “I wanted to ask you three to help me +in something, but I can’t do it unless you let me help you. +Listen—the next holiday is Halloween. I want to decorate my shop +with a lot of real jack-o’-lanterns cut from pumpkins. It will be +hard work and a lot of it and I was hoping that perhaps you’d help +me with this.” + +The three faces lighted up. + +“Of course we will,” Dicky said heartily. + +“Gee, I bet Dicky and I could make some great lanterns,” Arthur said +reflectively. + +“And I’ll help you fix up the store,” Rosie said with enthusiasm. “I +just love to make things look pretty.” + +“It’s a bargain then,” Maida said. “And now you must teach me how to +help you this very afternoon, Dicky.” + +They fell to work with a vim. At least three of them did. Rosie +continued to frisk with Delia and Tag on the floor. Dicky started +Maida on the caps first. He said that those were the easiest. And, +indeed she had very little trouble with anything until she came to +the boxes. She had to do her first box over and over again before it +would come right. But Dicky was very patient with her. He kept +telling her that she did better than most beginners or she would +have given it up. When she made her first good box, her face beamed +with satisfaction. + +“Do you mind if I take it home, Dicky?” she asked. “I’d like to show +it to my father when he comes. It’s the first thing I ever made in +my life.” + +“Of course,” Dicky said. + +“Don’t the other children ever try to copy your things?” Maida +asked. + +“They try to,” Arthur answered, “but they never do so well as +Dicky.” + +“You ought to see their nose-pinchers,” Rosie laughed. “They can’t +stand up straight. And their boxes and steamships are the wobbliest +things.” + +“I’m going to get all kinds of stuff for things we make for the +fair,” Maida said reflectively. “Gold and silver paper and colored +stars and pretty fancy pictures for trimmings. You see if you’re +going to charge real money you must make them more beautiful than +those for which you only charged nails.” + +“That’s right,” Dicky said. “By George, that will be great! You go +ahead and buy whatever you think is right, Maida, and I’ll pay you +for it from what we take in at the fair.” + +“That’s settled. What do you whittle, Arthur?” + +“Oh, all kinds of things—things I made up myself and things I +learned how to do in sloyd in school. I make bread-boards and +rolling pins and shinny sticks and cats and little baskets out of +cherry-stones.” + +“Jiminy crickets, he’s forgetting the boats,” Dicky burst in +enthusiastically. “He makes the dandiest boats you ever saw in your +life.” + +Maida looked at Arthur in awe. “I never heard anything like it! Can +you make anything for girls?” + +“Made me a set of the darlingest dolls’ furniture you ever saw in +your life,” Rosie put in from the floor. + +“Say, did you get into any trouble last night?” Arthur turned +suddenly to Rosie. “I forgot to ask you.” + +“Arthur and Rosie hooked jack yesterday, in all that rain,” Dicky +explained to Maida. “They knew a place where they could get a whole +lot of old iron and they were afraid if they waited, it would be +gone.” + +“I should say I did,” Rosie answered Arthur’s question. “Somebody +went and tattled to my mother. Of course, I was wet through to the +skin and that gave the whole thing away, anyway. I got the worst +scolding and mother sent me to bed without my supper. But I climbed +out the window and went over to see Maida. I don’t mind! I hate +school and as long as I live I shall never go except when I want +to—never, never, never! I guess I’m not going to be shut up studying +when I’d rather be out in the open air. Wouldn’t you hook jack if +you wanted to, Maida?” + +Maida did not reply for an instant. She hated to have Rosie ask this +question, point-blank for she did not want to answer it. If she said +exactly what she thought there might be trouble. And it seemed to +her that she would do almost anything rather than lose Rosie’s +friendship. But Maida had been taught to believe that the truth is +the most precious thing in the world. And so she told the truth +after a while but it was with a great effort. + +“No, I wouldn’t,” she said. + +“Oh, that’s all right for _you_ to say,” Rosie said firing up. “You +don’t have to go to school. You live the easiest life that anybody +can—just sitting in a chair and tending shop all day. What do you +know about it, anyway?” + +Maida’s lips quivered. “It is true I don’t go to school, Rosie,” she +said. “But it isn’t because I don’t want to. I’d give anything on +earth if I could go. I watch that line of children every morning and +afternoon of my life and wish and _wish_ and WISH I was in it. And +when the windows are opened and I hear the singing and reading, it +seems as if I just couldn’t stand it.” + +“Oh, well,” Rosie’s tone was still scornful. “I don’t believe, even +if you did go to school, that you’d ever do anything bad. You’d +never be anything but a fraid-cat and teacher’s pet.” + +“I guess I’d be so glad to be there, I’d do anything the teacher +asked,” Maida said dejectedly. “I do a lot of things that bother +Granny but I guess I never have been a very naughty girl. You can’t +be very naughty with your leg all crooked under you.” Maida’s voice +had grown bitter. The children looked at her in amazement. “But +what’s the use of talking to you two,” she went on. “You could never +understand. I guess Dicky knows what I mean, though.” + +To their great surprise, Maida put her head down on the table and +cried. + +For a moment the room was perfectly silent. The fire snapped and +Dicky went over to look at it. He stood with his back turned to the +other children but a suspicious snuffle came from his direction. +Arthur Duncan walked to the window and stood looking out. Rosie sat +still, her eyes downcast, her little white teeth biting her red +lips. Then suddenly she jumped to her feet, ran like a whirlwind to +Maida’s side. She put her arms about the bowed figure. + +“Oh, do excuse me, Maida,” she begged. “I know I’m the worst girl in +the world. Everybody says so and I guess it’s true. But I do love +you and I wouldn’t have hurt your feelings for anything. I don’t +believe you’d be a fraid-cat or teacher’s pet—I truly don’t. Please +excuse me.” + +Maida wiped her tears away. “Of course I’ll excuse you! But just the +same, Rosie, I hope you won’t hook jack any more for someday you’ll +be sorry.” + +“I’m going to make some candy now,” Rosie said, adroitly changing +the subject. “I brought some molasses and butter and everything I +need.” She began to bustle about the stove. Soon they were all +laughing again. + +Maida had never pulled candy before and she thought it the most +enchanting fun in the world. It was hard to keep at work, though, +when it was such a temptation to stop and eat it. But she persevered +and succeeded in pulling hers whiter than anybody’s. She laughed and +talked so busily that, when she started to put on her things, all +traces of tears had disappeared. + +The rain had stopped. The puddle was of monster size after so long a +storm. They came out just in time to help Molly fish Tim out of the +water and to prevent Betsy from giving a stray kitten a bath. +Following Rosie and Arthur, Maida waded through it from one end to +the other—it seemed the most perilous of adventures to her. + +After that meeting, the W.M.N.T.’s were busier than they had ever +been. Every other afternoon, and always when it was bad weather, +they worked at Maida’s house. Granny gave Maida a closet all to +herself and as fast as the things were finished they were put in +boxes and stowed away on its capacious shelves. + +Arthur whittled and carved industriously. His work went slower than +Dicky’s of course but, still, it went with remarkable quickness. +Maida often stopped her own work on the paper things to watch +Arthur’s. It was a constant marvel to her that such big, +awkward-looking hands could perform feats of such delicacy. Her +own fingers, small and delicate as they were, bungled surprisingly +at times. + +“And as for the paste,” Maida said in disgust to Rosie one day, +“you’d think that I fell into the paste-pot every day. I wash it off +my hands and face. I pick it off of my clothes and sometimes Granny +combs it out of my hair.” + +Often after dinner, the W.M.N.T.’s would call in a body on Maida. +Then would follow long hours of such fun that Maida hated to hear +the clock strike nine. Always there would be molasses-candy making +by the capable Rosie at the kitchen stove and corn-popping by the +vigorous Arthur on the living-room hearth. After the candy had +cooled and the pop corn had been flooded in melted butter, they +would gather about the hearth to roast apples and chestnuts and to +listen to the fairy-tales that Maida would read. + +The one thing which she could do and they could not was to read with +the ease and expression of a grown person. As many of her books were +in French as in English and it was the wonder of the other +W.M.N.T.’s that she could read a French story, translating as she +went. Her books were a delight to Arthur and Dicky and she lent them +freely. Rosie liked to listen to stories but she did not care to +read. + +Maida was very happy nowadays. Laura was the only person in the +Court who had caused her any uneasiness. Since the day that Laura +had made herself so disagreeable, Maida had avoided her steadily. +Best of all, perhaps, Maida’s health had improved so much that even +her limp was slowly disappearing. + +In the course of time, the children taught Maida the secret language +of the W.M.N.T.’s. They could hold long conversations that were +unintelligible to anybody else. When at first they used it in fun +before Maida, she could not understand a word. After they had +explained it to her, she wondered that she had ever been puzzled. + +“It’s as easy as anything,” Rosy said. “You take off the first sound +of a word and put it on the end with an _ay_ added to it like +MAN—an-may. BOY—oy-bay. GIRL—irl-gay. When a word is just one sound +like I or O, or when it begins with a vowel like EEL or US or OUT, +you add _way_, like I—I-way. O—O-way. EEL—eel-way. US—us-way. +OUT—out-way.” + +Thus Maida could say to Rosie: + +“Are-way ou-yay oing-gay o-tay ool-schay o-tay ay-day?” and mean +simply, “Are you going to school to-day?” + +And sometimes to Maida’s grief, Rosie would reply roguishly: + +“O-nay I-way am-way oing-gay o-tay ook-hay ack-jay ith-way +Arthur-way.” + +Billy Potter was finally invited to join the W.M.N.T.’s too. He +never missed a meeting if he could possibly help it. + +“Why do you call Maida, ‘Petronilla’?” Dicky asked him curiously one +day when Maida had run home for more paper. + +“Petronilla is the name of a little girl in a fairy-tale that I read +when I was a little boy,” Billy answered. + +“And was she like Maida?” Arthur asked. + +“Very.” + +“How?” Rosie inquired. + +“Petronilla had a gold star set in her forehead by a fairy when she +was a baby,” Billy explained. “It was a magic star. Nobody but +fairies could see it but it was always there. Anybody who came +within the light of Petronilla’s star, no matter how wicked or +hopeless or unhappy he was, was made better and hopefuller and +happier.” + +Nobody spoke for an instant. + +Then, “I guess Maida’s got the star all right,” Dicky said. + +Billy was very interested in the secret language. At first when they +talked this gibberish before him, he listened mystified. But to +their great surprise he never asked a question. They went right on +talking as if he were not present. In an interval of silence, Billy +said softly: + +“I-way onder-way if-way I-way ought-bay a-way uart-quay of-way +ice-way-eam-cray, ese-thay ildren-chay ould-way eat-way it-way.” + +For a moment nobody could speak. Then a deafening, “es-yay!” was +shouted at the top of four pairs of lungs. + + + + + + CHAPTER X: PLAY + + +But although the W.M.N.T.’s worked very hard, you must not suppose +that they left no time to play. Indeed, the weather was so fine that +it was hard to stay in the house. The beautiful Indian summer had +come and each new day dawned more perfect than the last. The trees +had become so gorgeous that it was as if the streets were lined with +burning torches. Whenever a breeze came, they seemed to flicker and +flame and flare. Maida and Rosie used to shuffle along the gutters +gathering pocketsful of glossy horse-chestnuts and handfuls of +gorgeous leaves. + +Sometimes it seemed to Maida that she did not need to play, that +there was fun enough in just being out-of-doors. But she did play a +great deal for she was well enough to join in all the fun now and it +seemed to her that she never could get enough of any one game. + +She would play house and paper-dolls and ring-games with the little +children in the morning when the older ones were in school. She +would play jackstones with the bigger girls in the afternoon. She +would play running games with the crowd of girls and boys, of whom +the W.M.N.T.’s were the leaders, towards night. Then sometimes she +would grumble to Granny because the days were so short. + +Of all the games, Hoist-the-Sail was her favorite. She often served +as captain on her side. But whether she called or awaited the cry, +“Liberty poles are bending—hoist the sail!” a thrill ran through her +that made her blood dance. + +“It’s no use in talking, Granny,” Maida said joyfully one day. “My +leg is getting stronger. I jumped twenty jumps to-day without +stopping.” + +After that her progress was rapid. She learned to jump in the rope +with Rosie. + +They were a pretty sight. People passing often gave them more than +one glance—Rosie so vivid and sparkling, in the scarlet cape and hat +all velvety jet-blacks, satiny olives and brilliant crimsons—Maida +slim, delicate, fairy-like in her long squirrel-coat and cap, her +airy ringlets streaming in the breeze and the eyes that had once +been so wistful now shining with happiness. + +“Do you know what you look like, Maida?” Rosie said once. Before +Maida could answer, she went on. “You look like that little mermaid +princess in Anderson’s fairy tales—the one who had to suffer so to +get legs like mortals.” + +“Do I?” Maida laughed. “Now isn’t it strange I have always thought +that you look like somebody in a fairy tale, too. You’re like +Rose-Red in ‘Rose-Red and Snow-White.’ I think,” she added, flushing, +for she was a little afraid that it was not polite to say things like +this, “that you are the beautifulest girl I ever saw.” + +“Why, that’s just what I think of you,” Rosie said in surprise. + +“I just love black hair,” Maida said. + +“And I just adore golden hair,” Rosie said. “Now, isn’t that +strange?” + +“I guess,” Maida announced after a moment of thought, “people like +what they haven’t got.” + +After a while, Rosie taught Maida to jump in the big rope with a +half a dozen children at once. Maida never tired of this. When she +heard the rope swishing through the air, a kind of excitement came +over her. She was proud to think that she had caught the trick—that +something inside would warn her when to jump—that she could be sure +that this warning would not come an instant too soon or too late. +The consciousness of a new strength and a new power made a different +child of her. It made her eyes sparkle like gray diamonds. It made +her cheeks glow like pink peonies. + +By this time she could spin tops with the best of them—sometimes she +had five tops going at once. This was a sport of which the +W.M.N.T.’s never tired. They kept it up long into the twilight. +Sometimes Granny would have to ring the dinner-bell a half a dozen +times before Maida appeared. Maida did not mean to be disobedient. +She simply did not hear the bell. Granny’s scoldings for this +carelessness were very gentle—Maida’s face was too radiant with her +triumph in this new skill. + +There was something about Primrose Court—the rows of trees welded +into a yellow arch high over their heads, the sky showing through in +diamond-shaped glints of blue, the tiny trim houses and their +tinier, trimmer yards, the doves pink-toeing everywhere, their +throats bubbling color as wonderful as the old Venetian glass in the +Beacon Street house, the children running and shouting, the very +smell of the dust which their pattering feet threw up—something in +the look of all this made Maida’s spirits leap. + +“I’m happy, _happy_, HAPPY,” Maida said one day. The next—Rosie came +rushing into the shop with a frightened face. + +“Oh, Maida,” she panted, “a terrible thing has happened. Laura +Lathrop’s got diphtheria—they say she’s going to die.” + +“Oh, Rosie, how dreadful! Who told you so?” + +“Annie the cook told Aunt Theresa. Dr. Ames went there three times +yesterday. Annie says Mrs. Lathrop looks something awful.” + +“The poor, poor woman,” Granny murmured compassionately. + +“Oh, I’m so sorry I was cross to Laura,” Maida said, +conscience-stricken. “Oh, I do hope she won’t die.” + +“It must be dreadful for Laura,” Rosie continued, “Harold can’t go +near her. Nobody goes into the room but her mother and the nurse.” + +The news cast a deep gloom over the Court. The little +children—Betsy, Molly and Tim played as usual for they could not +understand the situation. But the noisy fun of the older children +ceased entirely. They gathered on the corner and talked in low +voices, watching with dread any movement in the Lathrop house. For a +week or more Primrose Court was the quietest spot in the +neighborhood. + +“They say she’s sinking,” Rosie said that first night. + +The thought of it colored Maida’s dreams. + +“She’s got through the night all right,” Rosie reported in the +morning, her face shining with hope. “And they think she’s a little +better.” But late the next afternoon, Rosie appeared again, her face +dark with dread, “Laura’s worse again.” + +Two or three days passed. Sometimes Laura was better. Oftener she +was worse. Dr. Ames’s carriage seemed always to be driving into the +Court. + +“Annie says she’s dying,” Rosie retailed despairingly. “They don’t +think she’ll live through the night. Oh, won’t it be dreadful to +wake up to-morrow and find the crape on the door.” + +The thought of what she might see in the morning kept Maida awake a +long time that night. When she arose her first glance was for the +Lathrop door. There was no crape. + +“No better,” Rosie dropped in to say on her way to school “but,” she +added hopefully, “she’s no worse.” + +Maida watched the Lathrop house all day, dreading to see the +undertaker’s wagon drive up. But it did not come—not that day, nor +the next, nor the next. + +“They think she’s getting better,” Rosie reported joyfully one day. + +And gradually Laura did get better. But it was many days before she +was well enough to sit up. + +“Mrs. Lathrop says,” Rosie burst in one day with an excited face, +“that if we all gather in front of the house to-morrow at one +o’clock, she’ll lift Laura up to the window so that we can see her. +She says Laura is crazy to see us all.” + +“Oh, Rosie, I’m so glad!” Maida exclaimed, delighted. Seizing each +other by the waist, the two little girls danced about the room. + +“Oh, I’m going to be so good to Laura when she gets well,” Maida +said. + +“So am I,” Rosie declared with equal fervor. “The last thing I ever +said to her was that she was ‘a hateful little smarty-cat.’” + +Five minutes before one, the next day, all the children in Primrose +Court gathered on the lawn in front of Laura’s window. Maida led +Molly by one hand and Tim by the other. Rosie led Betsy and Delia. +Dorothy Clark held Fluff and Mabel held Tag. Promptly at one +o’clock, Mrs. Lathrop appeared at the window, carrying a little, +thin, white wisp of a girl, all muffled up in a big shawl. + +The children broke into shouts of joy. The boys waved their hats and +the girls their handkerchiefs. Tag barked madly and Rosie declared +afterwards that even Fluff looked excited. But Maida stood still +with the tears streaming down her cheeks—Laura’s face looked so +tiny, her eyes so big and sad. From her own experience, Maida could +guess how weak Laura felt. + +Laura stayed only an instant at the window. One feeble wave of her +claw-like hand and she was gone. + +“Annie says Mrs. Lathrop is worn to a shadow trying to find things +to entertain Laura,” Rosie said one night to Maida and Billy Potter. +“She’s read all her books to her and played all her games with her +and Laura keeps saying she wished she had something new.” + +“Oh, I do wish we could think of something to do for her,” Maida +said wistfully. “I know just how she feels. If I could only think of +a new toy—but Laura has everything. And then the trouble with toys +is that after you’ve played with them once, there’s no more fun in +them. I know what that is. If we all had telephones, we could talk +to her once in a while. But even that would tire her, I guess.” + +Billy jumped. “I know what we can do for Laura,” he said. “I’ll have +to have Mrs. Lathrop’s permission though.” He seized his hat and +made for the door. “I’d better see her about it to-night.” The door +slammed. + +It had all happened so suddenly that the children gazed after him +with wide-open mouths and eyes. + +“What do you suppose it’s going to be, Maida?” Rosie asked finally. + +“I don’t know,” Maida answered. “I haven’t the least idea. But if +Billy makes it, you may be sure it will be wonderful.” + +When Billy came back, they asked him a hundred questions. But they +could not get a word out of him in regard to the new toy. + +He appeared at the shop early the next morning with a suit-case full +of bundles. Then followed doings that, for a long time, were a +mystery to everybody. A crowd of excited children followed him +about, asking him dozens of questions and chattering frantically +among themselves. + +First, he opened one of the bundles—out dropped eight little +pulleys. Second, he went up into Maida’s bedroom and fastened one of +the little pulleys on the sill outside her window. Third, he did the +same thing in Rosie’s house, in Arthur’s and in Dicky’s. Fourth, he +fastened four of the little pulleys at the playroom window in the +Lathrop house. + +“Oh, what is he doing?” “I can’t think of anything.” “Oh, I wish +he’d tell us,” came from the children who watched these manœuvres +from the street. + +Fifth, Billy opened another bundle—this time, out came four coils of +a thin rope. + +“I know now,” Arthur called up to him, “but I won’t tell.” + +Billy grinned. + +And, sure enough, “You watch him,” was all Arthur would say to the +entreaties of his friends. + +Sixth, Billy ran a double line of rope between Maida’s and Laura’s +window, a second between Rosie’s and Laura’s, a third between +Arthur’s and Laura’s, a fourth between Dicky’s and Laura’s. + +Last, Billy opened another bundle. Out dropped four square tin +boxes, each with a cover and a handle. + +“I’ve guessed it! I’ve guessed it!” Maida and Rosie screamed +together. “It’s a telephone.” + +“That’s the answer,” Billy confessed. He went from house to house +fastening a box to the lower rope. + +“Now when you want to say anything to Laura,” he said on his return, +“just write a note, put it in the box, pull on the upper string and +it will sail over to her window. Suppose you all run home and write +something now. I’ll go over to Laura’s to see how it works.” + +The children scattered. In a few moments, four excited little faces +appeared at as many windows. The telephone worked perfectly. Billy +handed Mrs. Lathrop the notes to deliver to Laura. + +“Oh, Mr. Potter,” Mrs. Lathrop said suddenly, “there’s a matter that +I wished to speak to you about. That little Flynn girl has lived in +the family of Mr. Jerome Westabrook, hasn’t she?” + +Billy’s eyes “skrinkled up.” “Yes, Mrs. Lathrop,” he admitted, “she +lived in the Westabrook family for several years.” + +“So I guessed,” Mrs. Lathrop said. “She’s a very sweet little girl,” +she went on earnestly for she had been touched by the sight of +Maida’s grief the day that she held Laura to the window. “I hope Mr. +Westabrook’s own little girl is as sweet.” + +“She is, Mrs. Lathrop, I assure you she is,” Billy said gravely. + +“What is the name of the Westabrook child?” + +“Elizabeth Fairfax Westabrook.” + +“What is she like?” + +“She’s a good deal like Maida,” Billy said, his eyes beginning to +“skrinkle up” again. “They could easily pass for sisters.” + +“I suppose that’s why the Westabrooks have been so good to the +little Flynn girl,” Mrs. Lathrop went on, “for they certainly are +very good to her. It is quite evident that Maida’s clothes belonged +once to the little Westabrook girl.” + +“You are quite right, Mrs. Lathrop. They were made for the little +Westabrook girl.” + +Mrs. Lathrop always declared afterwards that it was the telephone +that really cured Laura. Certainly, it proved to be the most +exciting of toys to the little invalid. There was always something +waiting for her when she waked up in the morning and the tin boxes +kept bobbing from window to window until long after dark. The girls +kept her informed of what was going on in the neighborhood and the +boys sent her jokes and conundrums and puzzle pictures cut from the +newspapers. Gifts came to her at all hours. Sometimes it would be a +bit of wood-carving—a grotesque face, perhaps—that Arthur had done. +Sometimes it was a bit of Dicky’s pretty paper-work. Rosie sent her +specimens of her cooking from candy to hot roasted potatoes, and +Maida sent her daily translations of an exciting fairy tale which +she was reading in French for the first time. + +Pretty soon Laura was well enough to answer the notes herself. She +wrote each of her correspondents a long, grateful and affectionate +letter. By and by, she was able to sit in a chair at the window and +watch the games. The children remembered every few moments to look +and wave to her and she always waved back. At last came the morning +when a very thin, pale Laura was wheeled out into the sunshine. +After that she grew well by leaps and bounds. In a day or two, she +could stand in the ring-games with the little children. By the end +of a week, she seemed quite herself. + +One morning every child in Primrose Court received a letter in the +mail. It was written on gay-tinted paper with a pretty picture at +the top. It read: + + “You are cordially invited to a Halloween party to be given by + Miss Laura Lathrop at 29 Primrose Court on Saturday evening, + October 31, at a half after seven.” + + ---------------------- + +But as Maida ceased gradually to worry about Laura, she began to be +troubled about Rosie. For Rosie was not the same child. Much of the +time she was silent, moody and listless. + +One afternoon she came over to the shop, bringing the Clark twins +with her. For awhile she and Maida played “house” with the little +girls. Suddenly, Rosie tired of this game and sent the children +home. Then for a time, she frolicked with Fluff while Maida read +aloud. As suddenly as she had stopped playing “house” she +interrupted Maida. + +“Don’t read any more,” she commanded, “I want to talk with you.” + +Maida had felt the whole afternoon that there was something on +Rosie’s mind for whenever the scowl came between Rosie’s eyebrows, +it meant trouble. Maida closed her book and sat waiting. + +“Maida,” Rosie asked, “do you remember your mother?” + +“Oh, yes,” Maida answered, “perfectly. She was very beautiful. I +could not forget her any more than a wonderful picture. She used to +come and kiss me every night before she went to dinner with papa. +She always smelled so sweet—whenever I see any flowers, I think of +her. And she wore such beautiful dresses and jewels. She loved +sparkly things, I guess—sometimes she looked like a fairy queen. +Once she had a new lace gown all made of roses of lace and she had a +diamond fastened in every rose to make it look like dew. When her +hair was down, it came to her knees. She let me brush it sometimes +with her gold brush.” + +“A gold brush,” Rosie said in an awed tone. + +“Yes, it was gold with her initials in diamonds on it. Papa gave her +a whole set one birthday.” + +“How old were you when she died?” Rosie asked after a pause in which +her scowl grew deeper. + +“Eight.” + +“What did she die of?” + +“I don’t know,” Maida answered. “You see I was so little that I +didn’t understand about dying. I had never heard of it. They told me +one day that my mother had gone away. I used to ask every day when +she was coming back and they’d say ‘next week’ and ‘next week’ and +‘next week’ until one day I got so impatient that I cried. Then they +told me that my mother was living far away in a beautiful country +and she would never come back. They said that I must not cry for she +still loved me and was always watching over me. It was a great +comfort to know that and of course I never cried after that for fear +of worrying her. But at first it was very lonely. Why, Rosie—” She +stopped terrified. “What’s the matter?” + +Rosie had thrown herself on the couch, and was crying bitterly. “Oh, +Maida,” she sobbed, “that’s exactly what they say to me when I ask +them—‘next week’ and ‘next week’ and ‘next week’ until I’m sick of +it. My mother is dead and I know it.” + +“Oh, Rosie!” Maida protested. “Oh no, no, no—your mother is not +dead. I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it.” + +“She is,” Rosie persisted. “I know she is. Oh, what shall I do? +Think how naughty I was! What shall I do?” She sobbed so +convulsively that Maida was frightened. + +“Listen, Rosie,” she said. “You don’t _know_ your mother is dead. +And I for one don’t believe that she is.” + +“But they said the same thing to you,” Rosie protested passionately. + +“I think it was because I was sick,” Maida said after a moment in +which she thought the matter out. “They were afraid that I might die +if they told me the truth. But whether your mother is alive or dead, +the only way you can make up for being naughty is to be as good to +your Aunt Theresa as you can. Oh, Rosie, please go to school every +day.” + +“Do you suppose I could ever hook jack again?” Rosie asked bitterly. +She dried her eyes. “I guess I’ll go home now,” she said, “and see +if I can help Aunt Theresa with the supper. And I’m going to get her +to teach me how to cook everything so that I can help mother—if she +ever comes home.” + +The next day Rosie came into the shop with the happiest look that +she had worn for a long time. + +“I peeled the potatoes for Aunt Theresa, last night,” she announced, +“and set the table and wiped the dishes. She was real surprised. She +asked me what had got into me?” + +“I’m glad,” Maida approved. + +“I asked her when mother was coming back and she said the same +thing, ‘Next week, I think.’” Rosie’s lip quivered. + +“I think she’ll come back, Rosie,” Maida insisted. “And now let’s +not talk any more about it. Let’s come out to play.” + +Mindful of her own lecture on obedience to Rosie, Maida skipped home +the first time Granny rang the bell. + +Granny met her at the door. Her eyes were shining with mischief. +“You’ve got a visitor,” she said. Maida could see that she was +trying to keep her lips prim at the corners. She wondered who it +was. Could it be— + +She ran into the living-room. Her father jumped up from the +easy-chair to meet her. + +“Well, well, well, Miss Rosy-Cheeks. No need to ask how you are!” he +said kissing her. + +“Oh papa, papa, I never was so happy in all my life. If you could +only be here with me all the time, there wouldn’t be another thing +in the world that I wanted. Don’t you think you could give up Wall +Street and come to live in this Court? You might open a shop too. +Papa, I know you’d make a good shop-keeper although it isn’t so easy +as a lot of people think. But I’d teach you all I know—and, then, +it’s such fun. You could have a big shop for I know just how you +like big things—just as I like little ones.” + +“Buffalo” Westabrook laughed. “I may have to come to it yet but it +doesn’t look like it this moment. My gracious, Posie, how you have +improved! I never would know you for the same child. Where did you +get those dimples? I never saw them in your face before. Your mother +had them, though.” + +The shadow, that the mention of her mother’s name always brought, +darkened his face. “How you are growing to look like her!” he said. + +Maida knew that she must not let him stay sad. “Dimples!” she +squealed. “Really, papa?” She ran over to the mirror, climbed up on +a chair and peeked in. Her face fell. “I don’t see any,” she said +mournfully. + +“And you’re losing your limp,” Mr. Westabrook said. Then catching +sight of her woe-begone face, he laughed. “That’s because you’ve +stopped smiling, you little goose,” he said. “Grin and you’ll see +them.” + +Obedient, Maida grinned so hard that it hurt. But the grin softened +to a smile of perfect happiness. For, sure enough, pricking through +the round of her soft, pink cheeks, were a pair of tiny hollows. + + + + + + CHAPTER XI: HALLOWEEN + + +Halloween fell on Saturday that year. That made Friday a very busy +time for Maida and the other members of the W.M.N.T. In the +afternoon, they all worked like beavers making jack-o’-lanterns of +the dozen pumpkins that Granny had ordered. Maida and Rosie and +Dicky hollowed and scraped them. Arthur did all the hard work—the +cutting out of the features, the putting-in of candle-holders. These +pumpkin lanterns were for decoration. But Maida had ordered many +paper jack-o’-lanterns for sale. The W.M.N.T.’s spent the evening +rearranging the shop. Maida went to bed so tired that she could +hardly drag one foot after the other. Granny had to undress her. + +But when the school-children came flocking in the next morning, she +felt more than repaid for her work. The shop resounded with the “Oh +mys,” and “Oh looks,” of their surprise and delight. + +Indeed, the room seemed full of twinkling yellow faces. Lines of +them grinned in the doorway. Rows of them smirked from the shelves. +A frieze, close-set as peas in a pod, grimaced from the molding. The +jolly-looking pumpkin jacks, that Arthur had made, were piled in a +pyramid in the window. The biggest of them all—“he looks just like +the man in the moon,” Rosie said—smiled benignantly at the +passers-by from the top of the heap. Standing about everywhere among +the lanterns were groups of little paper brownies, their tiny heads +turned upwards as if, in the greatest astonishment, they were +examining these monster beings. + +The jack-o’-lanterns sold like hot cakes. As for the brownies, +“Granny, you’d think they were marching off the shelves!” Maida +said. By dark, she was diving breathlessly into her surplus stock. +At the first touch of twilight, she lighted every lantern left in +the place. Five minutes afterwards, a crowd of children had gathered +to gaze at the flaming faces in the window. Even the grown-ups +stopped to admire the effect. + +More customers came and more—a great many children whom Maida had +never seen before. By six o’clock, she had sold out her entire +stock. When she sat down to dinner that night, she was a very happy +little girl. + +“This is the best day I’ve had since I opened the shop,” she said +contentedly. She was not tired, though. “I feel just like going to a +party to-night. Granny, can I wear my prettiest Roman sash?” + +“You can wear annyt’ing you want, my lamb,” Granny said, “for ’tis +the good, busy little choild you’ve been this day.” + +Granny dressed her according to Maida’s choice, in white. A very, +simple, soft little frock, it was, with many tiny tucks made by hand +and many insertions of a beautiful, fine lace. Maida chose to wear +with it pale blue silk stockings and slippers, a sash of blue, +striped in pink and white, a string of pink Venetian beads. + +“Now, Granny, I’ll read until the children call for me,” she +suggested, “so I won’t rumple my dress.” + +But she was too excited to read. She sat for a long time at the +window, just looking out. Presently the jack-o’-lanterns, lighted +now, began to make blobs of gold in the furry darkness of the +street. She could not at first make out who held them. It was +strange to watch the fiery, grinning heads, flying, bodiless, from +place to place. But she identified the lanterns in the court by the +houses from which they emerged. The three small ones on the end at +the left meant Dicky and Molly and Tim. Two big ones, mounted on +sticks, came from across the way—Rosie and Arthur, of course. Two, +just alike, trotting side by side betrayed the Clark twins. A +baby-lantern, swinging close to the ground—that could be nobody but +Betsy. + +The crowd in the Court began to march towards the shop. For an +instant, Maida watched the spots of brilliant color dancing in her +direction. Then she slipped into her coat, and seized her own +lantern. When she came outside, the sidewalk seemed crowded with +grotesque faces, all laughing at her. + +“Just think,” she said, “I have never been to a Halloween party in +my life.” + +“You are the queerest thing, Maida,” Rosie said in perplexity. +“You’ve been to Europe. You can talk French and Italian. And yet, +you’ve never been to a Halloween party. Did you ever hang +May-baskets?” + +Maida shook her head. + +“You wait until next May,” Rosie prophesied gleefully. + +The crowd crossed over into the Court Two motionless, yellow faces, +grinning at them from the Lathrop steps, showed that Laura and +Harold had come out to meet them. On the lawn they broke into an +impromptu game of tag which the jack-o’-lanterns seemed to enjoy as +much as the children: certainly, they whizzed from place to place as +quickly and, certainly, they smiled as hard. + +The game ended, they left their lanterns on the piazza and trooped +into the house. + +“We’ve got to play the first games in the kitchen,” Laura announced +after the coats and hats had come off and Mrs. Lathrop had greeted +them all. + +Maida wondered what sort of party it was that was held in the +kitchen but she asked no questions. Almost bursting with curiosity, +she joined the long line marching to the back of the house. + +In the middle of the kitchen floor stood a tub of water with apples +floating in it. + +“Bobbing for apples!” the children exclaimed. “Oh, that’s the +greatest fun of all. Did you ever bob for apples, Maida?” + +“No.” + +“Let Maida try it first, then,” Laura said. “It’s very easy, Maida,” +she went on with twinkling eyes. “All you have to do is to kneel on +the floor, clasp your hands behind you, and pick out one of the +apples with your teeth. You’ll each be allowed three minutes.” + +“Oh, I can get a half a dozen in three minutes, I guess,” Maida +said. + +Laura tied a big apron around Maida’s waist and stood, watch in +hand. The children gathered in a circle about the tub. Maida knelt +on the floor, clasped her hands behind her and reached with a +wide-open mouth for the nearest apple. But at the first touch of her +lips, the apple bobbed away. She reached for another. That bobbed +away, too. Another and another and another—they all bobbed clean out +of her reach, no matter how delicately she touched them. That method +was unsuccessful. + +“One minute,” called Laura. + +Maida could hear the children giggling at her. She tried another +scheme, making vicious little dabs at the apples. Her beads and her +hair-ribbon and one of her long curls dipped into the water. But she +only succeeded in sending the apples spinning across the tub. + +“Two minutes!” called Laura. + +“Why don’t you get those half a dozen,” the children jeered. “You +know you said it was so easy.” + +Maida giggled too. But inwardly, she made up her mind that she would +get one of those apples if she dipped her whole head into the tub. +At last a brilliant idea occurred to her. Using her chin as a guide, +she poked a big rosy apple over against the side of the tub. Wedging +it there against another big apple, she held it tight. Then she +dropped her head a little, gave a sudden big bite and arose amidst +applause, with the apple secure between her teeth. + +After that she had the fun of watching the other children. The older +ones were adepts. In three minutes, Rosie secured four, Dicky five +and Arthur six. Rosie did not get a drop of water on her but the +boys emerged with dripping heads. The little children were not very +successful but they were more fun. Molly swallowed so much water +that she choked and had to be patted on the back. Betsy after a few +snaps of her little, rosebud mouth, seized one of the apples with +her hand, sat down on the floor and calmly ate it. But the climax +was reached when Tim Doyle suddenly lurched forward and fell +headlong into the tub. + +“I knew he’d fall in,” Molly said in a matter-of-fact voice. “He +always falls into everything. I brought a dry set of clothes for +him. Come, Tim!” + +At this announcement, everybody shrieked. Molly disappeared with Tim +in the direction of Laura’s bedroom. When she reappeared, sure +enough, Tim had a dry suit on. + +Next Laura ordered them to sit about the kitchen-table. She gave +each child an apple and a knife and directed him to pare the apple +without breaking the peel. If you think that is an easy thing to do, +try it. It seemed to Maida that she never would accomplish it. She +spoiled three apples before she succeeded. + +“Now take your apple-paring and form in line across the +kitchen-floor,” Laura commanded. + +The flock scampered to obey her. + +“Now when I say ‘Three!’” she continued, “throw the parings back +over your shoulder to the floor. If the paring makes a letter, it +will be the initial of your future husband or wife. One! _Two_! +THREE!” + +A dozen apple-parings flew to the floor. Everybody raced across the +room to examine the results. + +“Mine is B,” Dicky said. + +“And mine’s an O,” Rosie declared, “as plain as anything. What’s +yours, Maida?” + +“It’s an X,” Maida answered in great perplexity. “I don’t believe +that there are any names beginning with X except Xenophon and +Xerxes.” + +“Well, mine’s as bad,” Laura laughed, “it’s a Z. I guess I’ll be +Mrs. Zero.” + +“That’s nothing,” Arthur laughed, “mine’s an &—I can’t marry anybody +named ——‘and.’” + +“Well, if that isn’t successful,” Laura said, “there’s another way +of finding out who your husband or wife’s going to be. You must walk +down the cellar-stairs backwards with a candle in one hand and a +mirror in the other. You must look in the mirror all the time and, +when you get to the foot of the stairs, you will see, reflected in +it, the face of your husband or wife.” + +This did not interest the little children but the big ones were wild +to try it. + +“Gracious, doesn’t it sound scary?” Rosie said, her great eyes +snapping. “I love a game that’s kind of spooky, don’t you, Maida?” + +Maida did not answer. She was watching Harold who was sneaking out +of the room very quietly from a door at the side. + +“All right, then, Rosie,” Laura caught her up, “you can go first.” + +The children all crowded over to the door leading to the cellar. The +stairs were as dark as pitch. Rosie took the mirror and the candle +that Laura handed her and slipped through the opening. The little +audience listened breathless. + +They heard Rosie stumble awkwardly down the stairs, heard her pause +at the foot. Next came a moment of silence, of waiting as tense +above as below. Then came a burst of Rosie’s jolly laughter. She +came running up to them, her cheeks like roses, her eyes like stars. + +They crowded around her. “What did you see?” “Tell us about it?” +they clamored. + +Rosie shook her head. “No, no, no,” she maintained, “I’m not going +to tell you what I saw until you’ve been down yourself.” + +It was Arthur’s turn next. They listened again. The same thing +happened—awkward stumbling down the stairs, a pause, then a roar of +laughter. + +“Oh what did you see?” they implored when he reappeared. + +“Try it yourself!” he advised. “I’m not going to tell.” + +Dicky went next. Again they all listened and to the same mysterious +doings. Dicky came back smiling but, like the others, he refused to +describe his experiences. + +Now it was Maida’s turn. She took the candle and the mirror from +Dicky and plunged into the shivery darkness of the stairs. It was +doubly difficult for her to go down backwards because of her +lameness. But she finally arrived at the bottom and stood there +expectantly. It seemed a long time before anything happened. +Suddenly, she felt something stir back of her. A lighted +jack-o’-lantern came from between the folds of a curtain which hung +from the ceiling. It grinned over her shoulder at her face in the +mirror. + +Maida burst into a shriek of laughter and scrambled upstairs. “I’m +going to marry a jack-o’-lantern,” she said. “My name’s going to be +Mrs. Jack Pumpkin.” + +“I’m going to marry Laura’s sailor-doll,” Rosie confessed. “My name +is Mrs. Yankee Doodle.” + +“I’m going to marry Laura’s big doll, Queenie,” Arthur admitted. + +“And I’m going to marry Harold’s Teddy-bear,” Dicky said. + +After that they blew soap-bubbles and roasted apples and chestnuts, +popped corn and pulled candy at the great fireplace in the playroom. +And at Maida’s request, just before they left, Laura danced for +them. + +“Will you help me to get on my costume, Maida?” Laura asked. + +“Of course,” Maida said, wondering. + +“I asked you to come down here, Maida,” Laura said when the two +little girls were alone, “because I wanted to tell you that I am +sorry for the way I treated you just before I got diphtheria. I told +my mother about it and she said I did those things because I was +coming down sick. She said that people are always fretty and cross +when they’re not well. But I don’t think it was all that. I guess I +did it on purpose just to be disagreeable. But I hope you will +excuse me.” + +“Of course I will, Laura,” Maida said heartily. “And I hope you will +forgive me for going so long without speaking to you. But you see I +heard,” she stopped and hesitated, “things,” she ended lamely. + +“Oh, I know what you heard. I said those things about you to the +W.M.N.T.’s so that they’d get back to you. I wanted to hurt your +feelings.” Laura in her turn stopped and hesitated for an instant. +“I was jealous,” she finally confessed in a burst. “But I want you +to understand this, Maida. I didn’t believe those horrid things +myself. I always have a feeling inside when people are telling lies +and I didn’t have that feeling when you were talking to me. I knew +you were telling the truth. And all the time while I was getting +well, I felt so dreadfully about it that I knew I never would be +happy again unless I told you so.” + +“I did feel bad when I heard those things,” Maida said, “but of +course I forgot about them when Rosie told me you were ill. Let’s +forget all about it again.” + +But Maida told the W.M.N.T.’s something of her talk with Laura and +the result was an invitation to Laura to join the club. It was +accepted gratefully. + +The next month went by on wings. It was a busy month although in a +way, it was an uneventful one. The weather kept clear and fine. +Little rain fell but, on the other hand, to the great disappointment +of the little people of Primrose Court, there was no snow. Maida saw +nothing of her father for business troubles kept him in New York. He +wrote constantly to her and she wrote as faithfully to him. Letters +could not quite fill the gap that his absence made. Perhaps Billy +suspected Maida’s secret loneliness for he came oftener and oftener +to see her. + +One night the W.M.N.T.’s begged so hard for a story that he finally +began one called “The Crystal Ball.” A wonderful thing about it was +that it was half-game and half-story. Most wonderful of all, it went +on from night to night and never showed any signs of coming to an +end. But in order to play this game-story, there were two or three +conditions to which you absolutely must submit. For instance, it +must always be played in the dark. And first, everybody must shut +his eyes tight. Billy would say in a deep voice, “Abracadabra!” and, +presto, there they all were, Maida, Rosie, Laura, Billy, Arthur and +Dicky inside the crystal ball. What people lived there and what +things happened to them can not be told here. But after an hour or +more, Billy’s deepest voice would boom, “Abracadabra!” again and, +presto, there they all were again, back in the cheerful living-room. + +Maida hoped against hope that her father would come to spend +Thanksgiving with her but that, he wrote finally, was impossible. +Billy came, however, and they three enjoyed one of Granny’s +delicious turkey dinners. + +“I hoped that I would have found your daughter Annie by this time, +Granny,” Billy said. “I ask every Irishman I meet if he came from +Aldigarey, County Sligo or if he knows anybody who did, or if he’s +ever met a pretty Irish girl by the name of Annie Flynn. But I’ll +find her yet—you’ll see.” + +“I hope so, Misther Billy,” Granny said respectfully. But Maida +thought her voice sounded as if she had no great hope. + +Dicky still continued to come for his reading-lessons, although +Maida could see that, in a month or two, he would not need a +teacher. The quiet, studious, pale little boy had become a great +favorite with Granny Flynn. + +“Sure an’ Oi must be after getting over to see the poor lad’s mother +some noight,” she said. “’Tis a noice woman she must be wid such a +pretty-behaved little lad.” + +“Oh, she is, Granny,” Maida said earnestly. “I’ve been there once or +twice when Mrs. Dore came home early. And she’s just the nicest lady +and so fond of Dicky and the baby.” + +But Granny was old and very easily tired and, so, though her +intentions were of the best, she did not make this call. + +One afternoon, after Thanksgiving, Maida ran over to Dicky’s to +borrow some pink tissue paper. She knocked gently. Nobody answered. +But from the room came the sound of sobbing. Maida listened. It was +Dicky’s voice. At first she did not know what to do. Finally, she +opened the door and peeped in. Dicky was sitting all crumpled up, +his head resting on the table. + +“Oh, what is the matter, Dicky?” Maida asked. + +Dicky jumped. He raised his head and looked at her. His face was +swollen with crying, his eyes red and heavy. For a moment he could +not speak. Maida could see that he was ashamed of being caught in +tears, that he was trying hard to control himself. + +“It’s something I heard,” he replied at last. + +“What?” Maida asked. + +“Last night after I got to bed, Doc O’Brien came here to get his +bill paid. Mother thought I was asleep and asked him a whole lot of +questions. He told her that I wasn’t any better and I never would be +any better. He said that I’d be a cripple for the rest of my life.” + +In spite of all his efforts, Dicky’s voice broke into a sob. + +“Oh Dicky, Dicky,” Maida said. Better than anybody else in the +world, Maida felt that she could understand, could sympathize. “Oh, +Dicky, how sorry I am!” + +“I can’t bear it,” Dicky said. + +He put his head down on the table and began to sob. “I can’t bear +it,” he said. “Why, I thought when I grew up to be a man, I was +going to take care of mother and Delia. Instead of that, they’ll be +taking care of me. What can a cripple do? Once I read about a +crippled newsboy. Do you suppose I could sell papers?” he asked with +a gleam of hope. + +“I’m sure you could,” Maida said heartily, “and a great many other +things. But it may not be as bad as you think, Dicky. Dr. O’Brien +may be mistaken. You know something was wrong with me when I was +born and I did not begin to walk until a year ago. My father has +taken me to so many doctors that I’m sure he could not remember half +their names. But they all said the same thing—that I never would +walk like other children. Then a very great physician—Dr. +Greinschmidt—came from away across the sea, from Germany. He said he +could cure me and he did. I had to be operated on and—oh—I suffered +dreadfully. But you see that I’m all well now. I’m even losing my +limp. Now, I believe that Doctor Greinschmidt can cure you. The next +time my father comes home I’m going to ask him.” + +Dicky had stopped crying. He was drinking down everything that she +said. “Is he still here—that doctor?” he asked. + +“No,” Maida admitted sorrowfully. “But there must be doctors as good +as he somewhere. But don’t you worry about it at all, Dicky. You +wait until my father sees you—he always gets everything made right.” + +“When’s your father coming home?” + +“I don’t quite know—but I look for him any time now.” + +Dicky started to set the table. “I guess I wouldn’t have cried,” he +said after a while, “if I could have cried last night when I first +heard it. But of course I couldn’t let mother or Doc O’Brien know +that I’d heard them—it would make them feel bad. I don’t want my +mother ever to know that I know it.” + +After that, Maida redoubled her efforts to be nice to Dicky. She +cudgeled her brains too for new decorative schemes for his +paper-work. She asked Billy Potter to bring a whole bag of her books +from the Beacon Street house and she lent them to Dicky, a half dozen +at a time. + +Indeed, they were a very busy quartette—the W.M.N.T.’s. Rosie went +to school every day. She climbed out of her window no more at night. +She seemed to prefer helping Maida in the shop to anything else. +Arthur Duncan was equally industrious. With no Rosie to play hookey +with, he, too, was driven to attending school regularly. His leisure +hours were devoted to his whittling and wood-carving. He was always +doing kind things for Maida and Granny, bringing up the coal, +emptying the ashes, running errands. + +And so November passed into December. + + + + + + CHAPTER XII: THE FIRST SNOW + + +“Look out the window, my lamb,” Granny called one morning early in +December. Maida opened her eyes, jumped obediently out of bed and +pattered across the room. There, she gave a scream of delight, +jumping up and down and clapping her hands. + +“Snow! Oh goody, goody, goody! Snow at last!” + +It looked as if the whole world had been wrapped in a blanket of the +whitest, fleeciest, shiningest wool. Sidewalks, streets, crossings +were all leveled to one smoothness. The fences were so muffled that +they had swelled to twice their size. The houses wore trim, pointy +caps on their gables. The high bushes in the yard hung to the very +ground. The low ones had become mounds. The trees looked as if they +had been packed in cotton-wool and put away for the winter. + +“And the lovely part of it is, it’s still snowing,” Maida exclaimed +blissfully. + +“Glory be, it’ull be a blizzard before we’re t’rough wid ut,” Granny +said and shivered. + +Maida dressed in the greatest excitement. Few children came in to +make purchases that morning and the lines pouring into the +schoolhouse were very shivery and much shorter than usual. At a +quarter to twelve, the one-session bell rang. When the children came +out of school at one, the snow was whirling down thicker and faster +than in the morning. A high wind came up and piled it in the most +unexpected places. Trade stopped entirely in the shop. No mother +would let her children brave so terrific a storm. + +It snowed that night and all the next morning. The second day fewer +children went to school than on the first. But at two o’clock when +the sun burst through the gray sky, the children swarmed the +streets. Shovels and brooms began to appear, snow-balls to fly, +sleigh-bells to tinkle. + +Rosie came dashing into the shop in the midst of this burst of +excitement. “I’ve shoveled our sidewalk,” she announced +triumphantly. “Is anything wrong with me? Everybody’s staring at +me.” + +Maida stared too. Rosie’s scarlet cape was dotted with snow, her +scarlet hat was white with it. Great flakes had caught in her long +black hair, had starred her soft brows—they hung from her very +eyelashes. Her cheeks and lips were the color of coral and her eyes +like great velvety moons. + +“You look in the glass and see what they’re staring at,” Maida said +slyly. Rosie went to the mirror. + +“I don’t see anything the matter.” + +“It’s because you look so pretty, goose!” Maida exclaimed. + +Rosie always blushed and looked ashamed if anybody alluded to her +prettiness. Now she leaped to Maida’s side and pretended to beat +her. + +“Stop that!” a voice called. Startled, the little girls looked up. +Billy stood in the doorway. “I’ve come over to make a snow-house,” +he explained. + +“Oh, Billy, what things you do think of!” Maida exclaimed. “Wait +till I get Arthur and Dicky!” + +“Couldn’t get many more in here, could we?” Billy commented when the +five had assembled in the “child’s size” yard. “I don’t know that we +could stow away another shovel. Now, first of all, you’re to pile +all the snow in the yard into that corner.” + +Everybody went to work. But Billy and Arthur moved so quickly with +their big shovels that Maida and Rosie and Dicky did nothing but hop +about them. Almost before they realized it, the snow-pile reached to +the top of the fence. + +“Pack it down hard,” Billy commanded, “as hard as you can make it.” + +Everybody scrambled to obey. For a few moments the sound of shovels +beating on the snow drowned their talk. + +“That will do for that,” Billy commanded suddenly. His little force +stopped, breathless and red-cheeked. “Now I’m going to dig out the +room. I guess I’ll have to do this. If you’re not careful enough, +the roof will cave in. Then it’s all got to be done again.” + +Working very slowly, he began to hollow out the structure. After the +hole had grown big enough, he crawled into it. But in spite of his +own warning, he must have been too energetic in his movements. +Suddenly the roof came down on his head. + +Billy was on his feet in an instant, shaking the snow off as a dog +shakes off water. + +“Why, Billy, you look like a snow-man,” Maida laughed. + +“I feel like one,” Billy said, wiping the snow from his eyes and +from under his collar. “But don’t be discouraged, my hearties, up +with it again. I’ll be more careful the next time.” + +They went at it again with increased interest, heaping up a mound of +snow bigger than before, beating it until it was as hard as a brick, +hollowing out inside a chamber big enough for three of them to +occupy at once. But Billy gave them no time to enjoy their new +dwelling. + +“Run into the house,” was his next order, “and bring out all the +water you can carry.” + +There was a wild scramble to see which would get to the sink first +but in a few moments, an orderly file emerged from the house, Arthur +with a bucket, Dicky with a basin, Rosie with the dish-pan, Maida +with a dipper. + +“Now I’m going to pour water over the house,” Billy explained. “You +see if it freezes now it will last longer.” Very carefully, he +sprayed it on the sides and roof, dashing it upwards on the inside +walls: + +“We might as well make it look pretty while we’re about it,” Billy +continued. “You children get to work and make a lot of snow-balls +the size of an orange and just as round as you can turn them out.” + +This was easy work. Before Billy could say, “Jack Robinson!” four +pairs of eager hands had accumulated snow-balls enough for a sham +battle. In the meantime, Billy had decorated the doorway with two +tall, round pillars. He added a pointed roof to the house and +trimmed it with snow-balls, all along the edge. + +“Now I guess we’d better have a snow-man to live in this mansion +while we’re about it,” Billy suggested briskly. “Each of you roll up +an arm or a leg while I make the body.” + +Billy placed the legs in the corner opposite the snow-house. He +lifted on to them the big round body which he himself had rolled. +Putting the arms on was not so easy. He worked for a long time +before he found the angle at which they would stick. + +Everybody took a hand at the head. Maida contributed some dulse for +the hair, slitting it into ribbons, which she stuck on with glue. +Rosie found a broken clothes-pin for the nose. The round, smooth +coals that Dicky discovered in the coal-hod made a pair of +expressive black eyes. Arthur cut two sets of teeth from orange peel +and inserted them in the gash that was the mouth. When the head was +set on the shoulders, Billy disappeared into the house for a moment. +He came back carrying a suit-case. “Shut your eyes, every manjack of +you,” he ordered. “You’re not to see what I do until it’s done. If I +catch one of you peeking, I’ll confine you in the snow-house for +five minutes.” + +The W.M.N.T.’s shut their eyes tight and held down the lids with +resolute fingers. But they kept their ears wide open. The mysterious +work on which Billy was engaged was accompanied by the most +tantalizing noises. + +“Oh, Billy, can’t I please look,” Maida begged, jiggling up and +down. “I can’t stand it much longer.” + +“In a minute,” Billy said encouragingly. The mysterious noises kept +up. “Now,” Billy said suddenly. + +Four pairs of eyes leaped open. Four pairs of lips shrieked their +delight. Indeed, Maida and Rosie laughed so hard that they finally +rolled in the snow. + +Billy had put an old coat on the snow-man’s body. He had put a tall +hat—Arthur called it a “stove-pipe”—on the snow-man’s head. +He had put an old black pipe between the snow-man’s grinning, +orange-colored teeth. Gloves hung limply from the snow-man’s arm-stumps +and to one of them a cane was fastened. Billy had managed to give the +snow-man’s head a cock to one side. Altogether he looked so spruce +and jovial that it was impossible not to like him. + +“Mr. Chumpleigh, ladies and gentlemen,” Billy said. “Some members of +the W.M.N.T., Mr. Chumpleigh.” + +And Mr. Chumpleigh, he was until—until— + +Billy stayed that night to dinner. They had just finished eating +when an excited ring of the bell announced Rosie. + +“Oh, Granny,” she said, “the boys have made a most wonderful coast +down Halliwell Street and Aunt Theresa says I can go coasting until +nine o’clock if you’ll let Maida go too. I thought maybe you would, +especially if Billy comes along.” + +“If Misther Billy goes, ’twill be all roight.” + +“Oh, Granny,” Maida said, “you dear, darling, old fairy-dame!” She +was so excited that she wriggled like a little eel all the time +Granny was bundling her into her clothes. And when she reached the +street, it seemed as if she must explode. + +A big moon, floating like a silver balloon in the sky, made the +night like day. The neighborhood sizzled with excitement for the +street and sidewalks were covered with children dragging sleds. + +“It’s like the ‘Pied Piper’, Rosie,” Maida said joyfully, “children +everywhere and all going in the same direction.” + +They followed the procession up Warrington Street to where Halliwell +Street sloped down the hill. + +Billy let out a long whistle of astonishment. “Great Scott, what a +coast!” he said. + +In the middle of the street was a ribbon of ice three feet wide and +as smooth as glass. At the foot of the hill, a piled-up mound of +snow served as a buffer. + +“The boys have been working on the slide all day,” Rosie said. “Did +you ever see such a nice one, Maida?” + +“I never saw any kind of a one,” Maida confessed. “How did they make +it so smooth?” + +“Pouring water on it.” + +“Have you never coasted before, Maida?” Billy asked. + +“Never.” + +“Well, here’s your chance then,” said a cheerful voice back of them. +They all turned. There stood Arthur Duncan with what Maida soon +learned was a “double-runner.” + +Billy examined it carefully. “Did you make it, Arthur?” + +“Yes.” + +“Pretty good piece of work,” Billy commented. “Want to try it, +Maida?” + +“I’m crazy to!” + +“All right. Pile on!” + +Arthur took his place in front. Rosie sat next, then Dicky, then +Maida, then Billy. + +“Hold on to Dicky,” Billy instructed Maida, “and I’ll hold on to +you.” + +Tingling with excitement, Maida did as she was told. But it seemed +as if they would never start. But at last, she heard Billy’s voice, +“On your marks. Get set! Go!” The double-runner stirred. + +It moved slowly for a moment across the level top of the street. +Then came the first slope of the hill—they plunged forward. She +heard Rosie’s hysterical shriek, Dicky’s vociferous cheers and +Billy’s blood-curdling yells, but she herself was as silent as a +little image. They struck the second slope of the hill—then she +screamed, too. The houses on either side shot past like pictures in +the kinetoscope. She felt a rush of wind that must surely blow her +ears off. They reached the third slope of the hill—and now they had +left the earth and were sailing through the air. The next instant +the double-runner had come to rest on the bank of snow and Rosie and +she were hugging each other and saying, “Wasn’t it GREAT?” + +They climbed to the top of the hill again. All the way back, Maida +watched the sleds whizzing down the coast, boys alone on sleds, +girls alone on sleds, pairs of girls, pairs of boys, one seated in +front, the other steering with a foot that trailed behind on the +ice, timid little girls who did not dare the ice but contented +themselves with sliding on the snow at either side, daring little +boys who went down lying flat on their sleds. + +At the top they were besieged with entreaties to go on the +double-runner and, as there was room enough for one more, they took a +little boy or girl with them each time. Rosie lent her sled to those +who had none. At first there were plenty of these, standing at the +top of the coast, wistfully watching the fun of more fortunate +children. But after a while it was discovered that the ice was so +smooth that almost anything could be used for coasting. The sledless +ones rushed home and reappeared with all kinds of things. One little +lad went down on a shovel and his intrepid little sister followed on +a broom. Boxes and shingles and even dish-pans began to appear. Most +reckless of all, one big fellow slid down on his two feet, landing +in a heap in the snow. + +Maida enjoyed every moment of it—even the long walks back up the +hill. Once the double-runner struck into a riderless sled that had +drifted on to the course, and was overturned immediately. Nobody was +hurt. Rosie, Dicky and Arthur were cast safely to one side in the +soft snow. But Maida and Billy were thrown, whirling, on to the ice. +Billy kept his grip on Maida and they shot down the hill, turning +round and round and round. At first Maida was a little frightened. +But when she saw that they were perfectly safe, that Billy was +making her spin about in that ridiculous fashion, she laughed so +hard that she was weak when they reached the bottom. + +“Oh, do let’s do that again!” she said when she caught her breath. + +Never was such a week as followed. The cold weather kept up. +Continued storms added to the snow. For the first time in years came +four one-session days in a single week. It seemed as if Jack Frost +were on the side of the children. He would send violent flurries of +snow just before the one-session bell rang but as soon as the +children were safely on the street, the sun would come out bright as +summer. + +Every morning when Maida woke up, she would say to herself, “I +wonder how Mr. Chumpleigh is to-day.” Then she would run over to the +window to see. + +Mr. Chumpleigh had become a great favorite in the neighborhood. He +was so tall that his round, happy face with its eternal orange-peel +grin could look straight over the fence to the street. The +passers-by used to stop, paralyzed by the vision. But after studying +the phenomenon, they would go laughing on their way. Occasionally a +bad boy would shy a snow-ball at the smiling countenance but Mr. +Chumpleigh was so hard-headed that nothing seemed to hurt him. In +the course of time, the “stove-pipe” became very battered and, as +the result of continued storms, one eye sank down to the middle of +his cheek. But in spite of these injuries, he continued to maintain +his genial grin. + +“Let’s go out and fix Mr. Chumpleigh,” Rosie would say every day. +The two little girls would brush the snow off his hat and coat, +adjust his nose and teeth, would straighten him up generally. + +After a while, Maida threw her bird-crumbs all over Mr. Chumpleigh. +Thereafter, the saucy little English sparrows ate from Mr. +Chumpleigh’s hat-brim, his pipe-bowl, even his pockets. + +“Perhaps the snow will last all winter,” Maida said hopefully one +day. “If it does, Mr. Chumpleigh’s health will be perfect.” + +“Well, perhaps, it’s just as well if he goes,” Rosie said sensibly; +“we haven’t done a bit of work since he came.” + +On Sunday the weather moderated a little. Mr. Chumpleigh bore a most +melancholy look all the afternoon as if he feared what was to come. +What was worse, he lost his nose. + +Monday morning, Maida ran to the window dreading what she might see. +But instead of the thaw she expected, a most beautiful sight spread +out before her. The weather had turned cold in the night. Everything +that had started to melt had frozen up again. The sidewalks were +liked frosted cakes. Long icicles made pretty fringes around the +roofs of the houses. The trees and bushes were glazed by a sheathing +of crystal. The sunlight playing through all this turned the world +into a heap of diamonds. + +Mr. Chumpleigh had perked up under the influence of the cold. His +manner had gained in solidity although his gaze was a little glassy. +Hopefully Maida hunted about until she found his nose. + +She replaced his old set with some new orange-peel teeth and stuck +his pipe between them. He looked quite himself. + +But, alas, the sun came out and melted the whole world. The +sidewalks trickled streams. The icicles dripped away in showers of +diamonds. The trees lost their crystal sheathing. + +In the afternoon, Mr. Chumpleigh began to droop. By night his head +was resting disconsolately on his own shoulder. When Maida looked +out the next morning, there was nothing in the corner but a mound of +snow. An old coat lay to one side. Strewn about were a hat, a pair +of gloves, a pipe and a cane. + +Mr. Chumpleigh had passed away in the night. + + + + + + CHAPTER XIII: THE FAIR + + + SAVE YOUR PENNIES + A CHRISTMAS FAIR + WILL BE HELD IN THIS SHOP + THE SATURDAY BEFORE + CHRISTMAS + DELICIOUS CANDIES MADE BY + MISS ROSIE BRINE + PAPER GOODS DESIGNED AND + EXECUTED BY + MASTER RICHARD DORE + WOOD CARVING DESIGNED AND + EXECUTED BY + MASTER ARTHUR DUNCAN + DON’T MISS IT! + +This sign hung in Maida’s window for a week. Billy made it. The +lettering was red and gold. In one corner, he painted a picture of a +little boy and girl in their nightgowns peeking up a chimney-place +hung with stockings. In the other corner, the full-moon face of a +Santa Claus popped like a jolly jack-in-the-box from a chimney-top. +A troop of reindeer, dragging a sleigh full of toys, scurried +through the printing. The whole thing was enclosed in a wreath of +holly. + +The sign attracted a great deal of attention. Children were always +stopping to admire it and even grown-people paused now and then. +There was such a falling-off of Maida’s trade that she guessed that +the children were really saving their pennies for the fair. This +delighted her. + +The W.M.N.T.’s wasted no time that last week in spite of a very +enticing snowstorm. Maida, of course, had nothing to do on her own +account, but she worked with Dicky, morning and afternoon. + +Rosie could not make candy until the last two or three days for fear +it would get stale. Then she set to like a little whirlwind. + +“My face is almost tanned from bending over the stove,” she said to +Maida; “Aunt Theresa says if I cook another batch of candy, I’ll +have a crop of freckles.” + +Arthur seemed to work the hardest of all because his work was so +much more difficult. It took a great deal of time and strength and +yet nobody could help him in it. The sound of his hammering came +into Maida’s room early in the morning. It came in sometimes late at +night when, cuddling between her blankets, she thought what a happy +girl she was. + +“I niver saw such foine, busy little folks,” Granny said approvingly +again and again. “It moinds me av me own Annie. Niver a moment but +that lass was working at some t’ing. Oh, I wonder what she’s doun’ +and finking this Christmas.” + +“Don’t you worry,” Maida always said. “Billy’ll find her for you +yet—he said he would.” + +Maida, herself, was giving, for the first time in her experience, a +good deal of thought to Christmas time. + +In the first place, she had sent the following invitation to every +child in Primrose Court: + +“Will you please come to my Christmas Tree to be given Christmas +Night in the ‘Little Shop.’ Maida.” + +In the second place, she was spying on all her friends, listening to +their talk, watching them closely in work and play to find just the +right thing to give them. + +“Do you know, I never made a Christmas present in my life,” she said +one day to Rosie. + +“You never made a Christmas present?” Rosie repeated. + +Maida’s quick perception sensed in Rosie’s face an unspoken +accusation of selfishness. + +“It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, Rosie dear,” Maida hastened to +explain. “It was because I was too sick. You see, I was always in +bed. I was too weak to make anything and I could not go out and buy +presents as other children did. But people used to give me the +loveliest things.” + +“What did they give you?” Rosie asked curiously. + +“Oh, all kinds of things. Father’s given me an automobile and a pair +of Shetland ponies and a family of twenty dolls and my weight in +silver dollars. I can’t remember half the things I’ve had.” + +“A pair of Shetland ponies, an automobile, a family of twenty dolls, +your weight in silver dollars,” Rosie repeated after her. “Why, +Maida, you’re dreaming or you’re out of your head.” + +“Out of my head! Why, Rosie you’re out of _your_ head. Don’t you +suppose I know what I got for Christmas?” Maida’s eyes began to +flash and her lips to tremble. + +“Well, now, Maida, just think of it,” Rosie said in her most +reasonable voice. “Here you are a little girl just like anybody else +only you’re running a shop. Now just as if you could afford to have +an automobile! Why, my father knows a man who knows another man who +bought an automobile and it cost nine hundred dollars. What did +yours cost?” + +“Two thousand dollars.” Maida said this with a guilty air in spite +of her knowledge of her own truth. + +Rosie smiled roguishly. “Maida, dear,” she coaxed, “you dreamed it.” + +Maida started to her feet. For a moment she came near saying +something very saucy indeed. But she remembered in time. Of course +nobody in the neighborhood knew that she was “Buffalo” Westabrook’s +daughter. It was impossible for her to prove any of her statements. +The flash died out of her eyes. But another flash came into her +cheeks—the flash of dimples. + +“Well, perhaps I _did_ dream it, Rosie,” she said archly. “But I +don’t think I did,” she added in a quiet voice. + +Rosie turned the subject tactfully. “What are you going to give your +father?” she asked. + +“That’s bothering me dreadfully,” Maida sighed; “I can’t think of +anything he needs.” + +“Why don’t you buy him the same thing I’m going to get my papa,” +Rosie suggested eagerly. “That is, I’m going to buy it if I make +enough money at the fair. Does your father shave himself?” + +“Oh, Adolph, his valet, always shaves him,” Maida answered. + +Rosie’s brow knit over the word _valet_—but Maida was always +puzzling the neighborhood with strange expressions. Then her brow +lightened. “My father goes to a barber, too,” she said. “I’ve heard +him complaining lots of times how expensive it is. And the other day +Arthur told me about a razor his father uses. He says it’s just like +a lawn-mower or a carpet-sweeper. You don’t have to have anybody +shave you if you have one of them. You run it right over your face +and it takes all the beard off and doesn’t cut or anything. Now, +wouldn’t you think that would be fun?” + +“I should think it would be just lovely,” Maida agreed. “That’s just +the thing for papa—for he is so busy. How much does it cost, Rosie?” + +“About a dollar, Arthur thought. I never paid so much for a +Christmas present in my life. And I’m not sure yet that I can get +one. But if I do sell two dollars worth of candy, I can buy +something perfectly beautiful for both father and mother.” + +“Oh, Rosie,” Maida asked breathlessly, “do you mean that your +mother’s come back?” + +Rosie’s face changed. “Don’t you think I’d tell you that the first +thing? No, she hasn’t come back and they don’t say anything about +her coming back. But if she ever does come, I guess I’m going to +have her Christmas present all ready for her.” + +Maida patted her hand. “She’s coming back,” she said; “I know it.” + +Rosie sighed. “You come down Main Street the night before Christmas. +Dicky and I are going to buy our Christmas presents then and we can +show you where to get the little razor.” + +“I’d love to.” Maida beamed. And indeed, it seemed the most +fascinating prospect in the world to her. Every night after she went +to bed, she thought it over. She was really going to buy Christmas +presents without any grown-up person about to interfere. It was +rapture. + +The night before the fair, the children worked even harder than the +night before Halloween, for there were so many things to display. It +was evident that the stock would overflow windows and shelves and +show cases. + +“We’ll bring the long kitchen table in for your things, Arthur,” +Maida decided after a perplexed consideration of the subject. +“Dicky’s and Rosie’s things ought to go on the shelves and into the +show cases where nobody can handle them.” + +They tugged the table into the shop and covered it with a beautiful +old blue counter-pane. + +“That’s fine!” Arthur approved, unpacking his handicraft from the +bushel-baskets in which he brought them. + +The others stood round admiring the treasures and helping him to +arrange them prettily. A fleet of graceful little boats occupied one +end of the table, piles of bread-boards, rolling-pins and “cats,” +the other. In the center lay a bowl filled with tiny baskets, carved +from peach-stones. From the molding hung a fringe of hockey-sticks. + +Having arranged all Arthur’s things, the quartette filed upstairs to +the closet where Dicky’s paper-work was kept. + +“Gracious, I didn’t realize there were so many,” Rosie said. + +“Sure, the lad has worked day and night,” Granny said, patting +Dicky’s thin cheek. + +They filled Arthur’s baskets and trooped back to the shop. They +lined show case and shelves with the glittering things—boxes, big +and little, gorgeously ornamented with stars and moons, caps of gold +and silver, flying gay plumes, rainbow boats too beautiful to sail +on anything but fairy seas, miniature jackets and trousers that only +a circus rider would wear. + +“Dicky, I never did see anything look so lovely,” Maida said, +shaking her hands with delight. “I really didn’t realize how pretty +they were.” + +Dicky’s big eyes glowed with satisfaction. “Nor me neither,” he +confessed. + +“And now,” Maida said, bubbling over with suppressed importance, +“Rosie’s candies—I’ve saved that until the last.” She pulled out one +of the drawers under the show case and lifted it on to the counter. +It was filled with candy-boxes of paper, prettily decorated with +flower patterns on the outside, with fringes of lace paper on the +inside. “I ordered these boxes for you, Rosie,” she explained. “I +knew your candy would sell better if it was put up nicely. I thought +the little ones could be five-cent size, the middle-sized ones +ten-cent size, and the big ones twenty-five cent size.” + +Rosie was dancing up and down with delight. “They’re just lovely, +Maida, and how sweet you were to think of it. But it was just like +you.” + +“Now we must pack them,” Maida said. + +Four pairs of hands made light work of this. By nine o’clock all the +boxes were filled and spread out temptingly in the show case. By a +quarter past nine, three of the W.M.N.T.’s were in bed trying hard +to get to sleep. But Maida stayed up. The boxes were not her only +surprise. + +After the others had gone, she and Granny worked for half an hour in +the little shop. + +The Saturday before Christmas dawned clear and fair. Rosie hallooed +for Dicky and Arthur as she came out of doors at half-past seven and +all three arrived at the shop together. Their faces took on such a +comic look of surprise that Maida burst out laughing. + +“But where did it all come from?” Rosie asked in bewilderment. +“Maida, you slyboots, you must have done all this after we left.” + +Maida nodded. + +But all Arthur and Dicky said was “Gee!” and “Jiminy crickets!” But +Maida found these exclamatives quite as expressive as Rosie’s hugs. +And, indeed, she herself thought the place worthy of any degree of +admiring enthusiasm. + +The shop was so strung with garlands of Christmas green that it +looked like a bower. Bunches of mistletoe and holly added their +colors to the holiday cheer. Red Christmas bells hung everywhere. + +“My goodness, I never passed such a day in my life,” Maida said that +night at dinner. She was telling it all to Granny, who had been away +on mysterious business of her own. “It’s been like a beehive here +ever since eight o’clock this morning. If we’d each of us had an +extra pair of hands at our knees and another at our waists, perhaps +we could have begun to wait on all the people.” + +“Sure ’twas no more than you deserved for being such busy little +bees,” Granny approved. + +“The only trouble was,” Maida went on smilingly, “that they liked +everything so much that they could not decide which they wanted +most. Of course, the boys preferred Arthur’s carvings and the girls +Rosie’s candy. But it was hard to say who liked Dicky’s things the +best.” + +Granny twinkled with delight. She had never told Maida, but she did +not need to tell her, that Dicky was her favorite. + +“And then the grown people who came, Granny! First Arthur’s father +on his way to work, then Mrs. Lathrop and Laura—they bought loads of +things, and Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Doyle and even Mr. Flanagan bought a +hockey-stick. He said,” Maida dimpled with delight, “he said he +bought it to use on Arthur and Rosie if they ever hooked jack again. +Poor Miss Allison bought one of Arthur’s ‘cats’—what do you suppose +for?” + +Granny had no idea. + +“To wind her wool on. Then Billy came at the last minute and bought +everything that was left. And just think, Granny, there was a crowd +of little boys and girls who had stood about watching all day +without any money to spend and Billy divided among them all the +things he bought. Guess how much money they made!” + +Granny guessed three sums, and each time Maida said, triumphantly, +“More!” At last Granny had to give it up. + +“Arthur made five dollars and thirty cents. Dicky made three dollars +and eighty-seven cents. Rosie made two dollars and seventy cents.” + +After dinner that night, Maida accompanied Rosie and Dicky on the +Christmas-shopping expedition. + +They went first to a big dry goods store with Dicky. They helped +Dicky to pick out a fur collar for his mother from a counter marked +conspicuously $2.98. The one they selected was of gray and brown +fur. It was Maida’s opinion that it was sable and chinchilla mixed. + +Dicky’s face shone with delight when at last he tucked the big round +box safely under his arm. “Just think, I’ve been planning to do this +for three years,” he said, “and I never could have done it now if it +hadn’t been for you, Maida.” + +Next Dicky took the two little girls where they could buy razors. +“The kind that goes like a lawn-mower,” Rosie explained to the +proprietor. The man stared hard before he showed them his stock. But +he was very kind and explained to them exactly how the wonderful +little machine worked. + +Maida noticed that Rosie examined very carefully all the things +displayed in windows and on counters. But nothing she saw seemed to +satisfy her, for she did not buy. + +“What is it, Rosie?” Maida asked after a while. + +“I’m looking for something for my mother.” + +“I’ll help you,” Maida said. She took Rosie’s hand, and, thus linked +together, the two little girls discussed everything that they saw. + +Suddenly, Rosie uttered a little cry of joy and stopped at a +jeweler’s window. A tray with the label, “SOLID SILVER, $1,” +overflowed with little heart-shaped pendants. + +“Mama’d love one of those,” Rosie said. “She just loved things she +could hang round her neck.” + +They went inside. “It’s just what I want,” Rosie declared. “But I +wish I had a little silver chain for it. I can’t afford one though,” +she concluded wistfully. + +“Oh, I know what to do,” Maida said. “Buy a piece of narrow black +velvet ribbon. Once my father gave my mother a beautiful diamond +heart. Mother used to wear it on a black velvet ribbon. Afterwards +papa bought her a chain of diamonds. But she always liked the black +velvet best and so did papa and so did I. Papa said it made her neck +look whiter.” + +The other three children looked curiously at Maida when she said, +“diamond heart.” When she said, “string of diamonds,” they looked at +each other. + +“Was that another of your dreams, Maida?” Rosie asked mischievously. + +“Dreams!” Maida repeated, firing up. But before she could say +anything that she would regret, the dimples came. “Perhaps it was a +dream,” she said prettily. “But if it was, then everything’s a +dream.” + +“I believe every word that Maida says,” Dicky protested stoutly. + +“I believe that Maida believes it,” Arthur said with a smile. + +They all stopped with Rosie while she bought the black velvet ribbon +and strung the heart on it. She packed it neatly away in the glossy +box in which the jeweler had done it up. + +“If my mama doesn’t come back to wear that heart, nobody else ever +will,” she said passionately. “Never—never—never—unless I have a +little girl of my own some day.” + +“Your mother’ll come back,” Maida said. + + + + + + CHAPTER XIV: CHRISTMAS HAPPENINGS + + +Maida was awakened early Christmas morning by a long, wild peal of +the bell. Before she could collect her scattered wits, she heard +Rosie’s voice, “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! +Oh, Granny, won’t you please let me run upstairs and wake Maida? +I’ve got something dreadfully important to tell her.” + +Maida heard Granny’s bewildered “All roight, child,” heard Rosie’s +rush through the living-room and then she bounded out of bed, +prickling all over with excitement. + +“Maida,” Rosie called from the stairs, “wake up! I’ve something +wonderful to tell you.” + +But Maida had guessed it. + +“I know,” she cried, as Rosie burst into the room. “Your mother’s +come home.” + +“My mother’s come home,” Rosie echoed. + +The two little girls seized each other and hopped around the room in +a mad dance, Maida chanting in a deep sing-song, “Your mother’s come +home!” and Rosie screaming at the top of her lungs, “My mother’s +come home!” After a few moments of this, they sank exhausted on the +bed. + +“Tell me all about it,” Maida gasped. “Begin at the very beginning +and don’t leave anything out.” + +“Well, then,” Rosie began, “I will. When I went to bed last night +after leaving you, I got to thinking of my mother and pretty soon I +was so sad that I nearly cried my eyes out. Well, after a long while +I got to sleep and I guess I must have been very tired, for I didn’t +wake up the way I do generally of my own accord. Aunt Theresa had to +wake me. She put on my best dress and did my hair this new way and +even let me put cologne on. I couldn’t think why, because I never +dress up until afternoons. Once when I looked at her, I saw there +were tears in her eyes and, oh, Maida, it made me feel something +awful, for I thought she was going to tell me that my mother was +dead. When I came downstairs, my father hugged me and kissed me and +sat with me while I ate my breakfast. Oh, I was so afraid he was +going to tell me that mother was dead! But he didn’t! After awhile, +he said, ‘Your Christmas presents are all up in your mother’s +bedroom, Rosie.’ So I skipped up there. My father and Aunt Theresa +didn’t come with me, but I noticed they stood downstairs and +listened. I opened the door.” + +Rosie stopped for breath. + +“Go on,” Maida entreated; “oh, do hurry.” + +“Well, there, lying on the bed was my mother. Maida, I felt so queer +that I couldn’t move. My feet wouldn’t walk—-just like in a dream. +My mother said, ‘Come here, my precious little girl,’ but it sounded +as if it came from way, way, way off. And Maida _then_ I could move. +I ran across the room and hugged her and kissed her until I couldn’t +breathe. Then she said, ‘I have a beautiful Christmas gift for you, +little daughter,’ and she pulled something over towards me that lay, +all wrapped up, in a shawl on the bed. What do you think it was?” + +“I don’t know. Oh, tell me, Rosie!” + +“Guess,” Rosie insisted, her eyes dancing. + +“Rosie, if you don’t tell me this minute, I’ll pinch you.” + +“It was a baby—a little baby brother.” + +“A baby! Oh, Rosie!” + +The two little girls hopped about the room in another mad dance. + +“Maida, he’s the darlingest baby that ever was in the whole wide +world! His name is Edward. He’s only six weeks old and _he can +smile_.” + +“Smile, Rosie?” + +“He can—I saw him—and sneeze!” + +“Sneeze, Rosie?” + +“That’s not all,” said Rosie proudly. “He can wink his eyes and +double up his fists—and—and—and a whole lot of things. There’s no +doubt that he’s a remarkable baby. My mother says so. And pretty +as—oh, he’s prettier than any puppy I ever saw. He’s a little too +pink in the face and he hasn’t much hair yet—there’s a funny spot in +the top of his head that goes up and down all the time that you have +to be dreadfully careful about. But he certainly is the loveliest +baby I ever saw. What do you think my mother let me do?” + +“Oh, what?” + +“She let me rock him for a moment. And I asked her if you could rock +him some day and she said you could.” + +“Oh! oh!” + +“And what else do you think she’s going to let me do?” + +“I can’t guess. Oh, tell me quick, Rosie.” + +“She says she’s going to let me give him his bath Saturdays and +Sundays and wheel him out every day in his carriage.” + +“Rosie,” Maida said impressively, “you ought to be the happiest +little girl in the world. Think of having a baby brother for a +Christmas present. You will let me wheel him sometimes, won’t you?” + +“Of course I will. I shall divide him exactly in half with you.” + +“Where has your mother been all this time?” Maida asked. + +“Oh, she’s been dreadfully sick in a hospital. She was sick after +the baby came to her—so sick that she couldn’t even take care of +him. She said they were afraid she was going to die. But she’s all +right now. Father bought her for Christmas a beautiful, long, +red-silk dress that’s just to lie down in. She looks like a queen +in it, and yet she looks like a little girl, too, for her hair is done +in two braids. Her hair comes way down below her waist like your +mother’s hair. And when I gave her the little silver heart, she was +so pleased with it. She put it right on and it looked sweet. She +said she would much rather wear it on a black velvet ribbon than on +a silver chain.” + +“Everything’s come out all right, hasn’t it?” Maida said with +ecstasy. + +“I guess it has. Now I must go. I want to be sure to be there when +the baby wakes up. I asked my mother when you could see the baby, +Maida, and she said to-morrow. I can’t wait to show you its feet—you +never did see such little toes in your life.” + +Exciting as this event was, it was as nothing to what followed. + +Granny and Maida were still talking about Rosie’s happiness when +Billy Potter suddenly came marching through the shop and into the +living-room. + +“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” they all said +at once. + +“Granny,” Billy asked immediately, “if you could have your choice of +all the Christmas gifts in the world, which one would you choose?” + +An expression of bewilderment came into Granny’s bright blue eyes. + +“A Christmas gift, Misther Billy,” she said in an uncertain tone; “I +cudn’t t’ink of a t’ing as long as Oi can’t have me little Annie wid +me.” + +Maida saw Billy’s eyes snap and sparkle at the word Annie. She +wondered what—Could it be possible that—She began to tremble. + +“And so you’d choose your daughter, Granny?” Billy questioned. + +“Choose my daughter. Av coorse Oi wud!” Granny stopped to stare in +astonishment at Billy. “Oh, Misther Billy, if you cud only foind +her!” She gazed imploringly at him. Billy continued to smile at her, +his eyes all “skrinkled up.” Granny jumped to her feet. She seized +Billy’s arm. “Oh, Misther Billy, you _have_ found her,” she +quavered. + +Billy nodded. “I’ve found her, Granny! I told you I would and I +have. Now don’t get excited. She’s all right and you’re all right +and everything’s all right. She’ll be here just as soon as you’re +ready to see her.” + +For a moment Maida was afraid Granny was going to faint, for she +dropped back into her chair and her eyes filled with tears. But at +Billy’s last words the old fire came back to her eyes, the color to +her cheeks. “Oi want to see her at wance,” she said with spirit. + +“Listen,” Billy said. “Last night I happened to fall into +conversation with a young Irishman who had come to read the +gas-meter in my house. I asked him where he came from. He said, +‘Aldigarey, County Sligo.’ I asked him if he knew Annie Flynn. +‘Sure, didn’t she marry my cousin? She lives—’ Well, the short of it +is that I went right over to see her, though it was late then. I +found her a widow with two children. She nearly went crazy at the +prospect of seeing her mother again, but we agreed that we must wait +until morning. We planned—oh, come in, Annie,” he called suddenly. + +At his call, the shop door opened and shut. There was a rush of two +pairs of feet through the shop. In the doorway appeared a young +woman carrying a baby. Behind her came a little boy on crutches. +Granny stood like a marble statue, staring. But Maida screamed. + +Who do you suppose they were? + +They were Mrs. Dore and Delia and Dicky. + +“Oh, my mother!” Mrs. Dore said. + +“My little Annie—my little girl,” Granny murmured. The tears began +to stream down her cheeks. + +Followed kissings and huggings by the dozen. Followed questions and +answers by the score. + +“And to t’ink you’ve been living forninst us all this time,” Granny +said after the excitement had died down. She was sitting on the +couch now, with Delia asleep in her lap, Mrs. Dore on one side and +Dicky on the other. “And sure, me own hearrt was telling me the +trut’ all the toime did Oi but listhen to ut—for ’twas loving this +foine little lad ivry minut av the day.” She patted Dicky’s head. +“And me niver seeing the baby that had me own name!” She cuddled +Delia close. “OI’m the happiest woman in the whole woide wurrld this +day.” + +It was arranged that the two families were to have Christmas dinner +together. Dicky and Mrs. Dore hurried back for a few moments to +bring their turkey to the feast. + +“Granny, will you love me just the same now that you’ve got Dicky +and Delia?” Maida said wistfully. + +“Love you, my lamb? Sure, I’ll love you all the more for ’twas +t’rough you I met Misther Billy and t’rough Misther Billy I found me +Annie. Ah, Misther Billy, ’tis the grand man you make for such a b’y +that you are!” + +“Yes, m’m,” said Billy. + +When Mrs. Dore returned, mother and daughter went to work on the +dinner, while Billy and Maida and Dicky trimmed the tree. When the +door opened, they caught bits of conversation, Granny’s brogue +growing thicker and thicker in her excitement, and Mrs. Dore +relapsing, under its influence, into old-country speech. At such +times, Maida noticed that Billy’s eyes always “skrinkled up.” + +They were just putting the finishing touches to the tree when the +window darkened suddenly. Maida looked up in surprise. And then, +“Oh, my papa’s come!” she screamed; “my papa’s come to my Christmas +tree after all!” + +There is so much to tell about the Christmas tree that I don’t know +where to begin. + +First of all came Laura and Harold. Mrs. Lathrop stopped with them +for a moment to congratulate Mrs. Dore on finding her mother. + +“Mrs. Lathrop, permit me to introduce my father, Mr. Westabrook,” +Maida said. + +Mrs. Lathrop was very gracious. “The neighborhood have accepted your +daughter as Mrs. Flynn’s grandchild, Mr. Westabrook. But I guessed +the truth from the first. I believed, however, that you wished the +matter kept a secret and I have said nothing of it to anybody.” + +“I thank you, madam,” said “Buffalo” Westabrook, bending on her one +of his piercing scrutinies. “How ever the neighborhood accepted her, +they have given her back her health. I can never be too grateful to +them.” + +Came Rosie next with a, “Oh, Maida, if you could only have seen +Edward when my mother bathed him to-night!” Came Arthur, came the +Doyles, came the Clark twins with Betsy tagging at their heels. Last +of all, to Maida’s great delight, came Dr. Pierce. + +Nobody was allowed to go into the shop where the tree stood until +the last guest had arrived. But in spite of their impatience they +had a gay half hour of waiting. Billy amused them with all kinds of +games and tricks and jokes, and when he tired, Dr. Pierce, who soon +became a great favorite, took them in hand. + +Dr. Pierce sat, most of the evening, holding Betsy in his lap, +listening to her funny baby chatter and roaring at her escapades. He +took a great fancy to the Clark twins and made all manner of fun for +the children by pretending that there was only one of them. +“Goodness; how you do fly about!” he would say ruefully to Dorothy, +“An instant ago you were standing close beside me,” or “How can you +be here on the couch,” he would say to Mabel, “when there you are as +plain as a pikestaff standing up in the corner?” + +“What can you do about that leg, Eli?” Mr. Westabrook asked Dr. +Pierce once when Dicky swung across the room. + +“I’ve been thinking about that,” Dr. Pierce answered briskly. “I +guess Granny and Annie will have to let me take Dicky for a while. A +few months in my hospital and he’ll be jumping round here like a +frog with the toothache.” + +“Oh, Dr. Pierce, do you think you can cure him?” Mrs. Dore asked, +clasping her hands. + +“Cure him!” Dr. Pierce answered with his jolliest laugh. “Of course +we can. He’s not in half so bad a condition as Maida was when we +straightened her out. Greinschmidt taught us a whole bag of tricks. +Dicky could almost mend himself if he’d only stay still long enough. +Look at Maida. Would you ever think she’d been much worse than +Dicky?” + +Everybody stared hard at Maida, seated on her father’s knee, and she +dimpled and blushed under the observation. She was dressed all in +white—white ribbons, white sash, white socks and shoes, the softest, +filmiest white cobweb dress. Her hair streamed loose—a cascade of +delicate, clinging ringlets of the palest gold. Her big, gray eyes, +soft with the happiness of the long day, reflected the firelight. +Her cheeks had grown round as well as pink and dimpled. + +She did not look sick. + +“Oh, Dicky,” she cried, “just think, you’re going to be cured. +Didn’t I tell you when my father saw you, he’d fix it all right? My +father’s a magician!” + +But Dicky could not answer. He was gulping furiously to keep back +the tears of delight. But he smiled his radiant smile. Billy took +everybody’s attention away from him by turning an unexpected +cartwheel in the middle of the floor. + +Finally, Maida announced that it was time for the tree. They formed +in line and marched into the shop to a tune that Billy thumped out +of the silver-toned old spinet. + +I wish you could have heard the things the children said. + + ---------------------- + +The tree went close to the ceiling. Just above it, with arms +outstretched, swung a beautiful Christmas angel. Hanging from it +were all kinds of glittery, quivery, sparkly things in silver and +gold. Festooned about it were strings of pop corn and cranberries. +At every branch-tip glistened a long glass icicle. And the whole +thing was ablaze with candles and veiled in a mist of gold and +silver. + +At the foot of the tree, groups of tiny figures in painted plaster +told the whole Christmas Day story from the moment of the first +sight of the star by the shepherds who watched their flocks to the +arrival, at the manger, of the Wise Men, bearing gold, frankincense +and myrrh. + +Billy Potter disappeared for a moment and came in, presently, the +most chubby and pink-faced and blue-eyed of Santa Clauses, in purple +velvet trimmed with ermine, with long white hair and a long white +beard. + +I can’t begin to name to you all the fruits of that magic tree. From +Maida, there came to Rosie a big golden cage with a pair of canary +birds, to Arthur a chest of wonderful tools, to Dicky a little +bookcase full of beautiful books, to Laura a collection of sashes +and ribbons, to Harold a long train of cars. For Molly, Betsy and +the Clark twins came so many gifts that you could hardly count them +all—dolls and dolls’ wardrobes, tiny doll-houses and tinier +doll-furniture. For Tim came a sled and bicycle. + +To Maida came a wonderful set of paper boxes from Dicky, a long +necklace of carved beads from Arthur, a beautiful blank-book, with +all her candy recipes, beautifully written out, from Rosie, a warm +little pair of knitted bed-shoes from Granny, a quaint, little, +old-fashioned locket from Dr. Pierce—he said it had once belonged to +another little sick girl who died. + +From Billy came a book. Perhaps you can fancy how Maida jumped when +she read “The Crystal Ball,” by William Potter, on the cover. But I +do not think you can imagine how pleased she looked when inside she +read the printed dedication, “To Petronilla.” + +From her father came a beautiful miniature of her mother, painted on +ivory. The children crowded about her to see the beautiful face of +which Maida had told them so much. There was the mass of golden hair +which she had described so proudly. There, too, was a heart-shaped +pendant of diamonds, suspended from a black velvet ribbon tied close +to the white throat. + +The children looked at the picture. Then they looked at each other. + +But Maida did not notice. She was watching eagerly while Dr. Pierce +and Billy and her father opened her gifts to them. + +She was afraid they would not understand. “They’re to save time, you +see, when you want to shave in a hurry,” she explained. + +“Maida,” her father said gravely, “that is a very thoughtful gift. +It’s strange when you come to think of it, as busy a man as I am and +with all the friends I have, nobody has ever thought to give me a +safety razor.” + +“I don’t know how I ever managed to get along without one,” Dr. +Pierce declared, his curls bobbing. + +“As for me—I shall probably save about a third of my income in the +future,” Billy announced. + +All three were so pleased that they laughed for a long time. + +“I’m going to give you another Christmas present, Maida,” Mr. +Westabrook said suddenly, “I’m going to give us both one—a vacation. +We’re going to start for Europe, week after next.” + +“Oh, papa, papa, how lovely!” Maida said. “Shall we see Venice +again? But how can I give up my little shop and my friends?” + +“Maida going away!” the children exclaimed. “Oh, dear! oh, dear!” +“But Mr. Westabrook, isn’t Maida coming back again?” Rosie asked. +“How I shall miss her!” Laura chimed in. + +“Take my lamb away,” Granny wailed. “Sure, she’ll be tuk sick in +those woild counthries! You’ll have to take me wid you, Misther +Westabrook—only—only—” She did not finish her sentence but her eyes +went anxiously to her daughter’s face. + +“No, Granny, you’re not to go,” Mr. Westabrook said decisively; +“You’re to stay right here with your daughter and her children. +You’re all to run the shop and live over it. Maida’s old enough and +well enough to take care of herself now. And I think she’d better +begin to take care of me as well. Don’t you think so, Maida?” + +“Of course I do, papa. If you need me, I want to.” + +“Mr. Westabrook,” Molly broke into the conversation determinedly, +“did you ever give Maida a pair of Shetland ponies?” + +Mr. Westabrook bent on the Robin the most amused of his smiles. + +“Yes,” he said. + +“And an automobile?” Tim asked. + +Mr. Westabrook turned to the Bogle. “Yes,” he said, a little +puzzled. + +“And did Maida’s mother have a gold brush with her initials in +diamonds on it?” Rosie asked. + +Mr. Westabrook roared. “Yes,” he said. + +“And have you got twelve peacocks, two of them white?” Arthur asked. + +“Yes.” + +“And has Maida a little theater of her own and a doll-house as big +as a cottage?” Laura asked. + +“Yes.” + +“And did she have a May-party last year that she invited over four +hundred children to?” Harold asked. + +“Yes.” + +“And did you give her her weight in silver dollars once?” Mabel +asked. + +“Yes.” + +“And a family of twenty dolls?” Dorothy asked. + +“Yes, you shall see all these things when we come back,” Mr. +Westabrook promised. + +“Then why did she run away?” Betsy asked solemnly. + +Everybody laughed. + +“I always said Maida was a princess in disguise,” Dicky maintained, +“and now I suppose she’s going back and be a princess again.” + +“Dicky was the first friend I made, papa,” Maida said, smiling at +her first friend. + +“But you’ll come back some time, won’t you, Maida?” Dicky begged. + +“Yes, Dicky,” Maida answered, “_I’ll_ come back.” + +Yes, Maida did come back. And what fun they all have, the Little Six +in their private quarters, and the Big Six with their picnics, and +their adventures with the Gypsies, is told in _Maida’s Little +House_. + + THE END + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + + THE CAROLYN WELLS BOOKS FOR GIRLS + +Fresh, spirited stories that the modern small girl will take to her +heart these well known books by a famous author have won an +important place in the field of juvenile fiction. + + THE FAMOUS "PATTY" BOOKS + +Patty Fairfield Patty at Home Patty in the City Patty’s Summer Days +Patty in Paris Patty’s Friend Patty’s Pleasure Trip Patty’s Success +Patty’s Motor Car Patty’s Butterfly Days Patty’s Social Season +Patty’s Suitors Patty’s Romance Patty’s Fortune Patty Blossom +Patty—Bride Patty and Azalea + + THE MARJORIE BOOKS + +Marjorie’s Vacation Marjorie’s Busy Days Marjorie’s New Friend +Marjorie in Command Marjorie’s Maytime Marjorie at Seacote + + TWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIES + +Two Little Women Two Little Women and Treasure House Two Little +Women on a Holiday + + DORRANCE SERIES + +The Dorrance Domain Dorrance Doings + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + + THE MARY JANE SERIES + By CLARA INGRAM JUDSON + + Each Volume Complete in Itself. + +Take a trip with Mary Jane. She is the heroine of this popular +series for young girls. You’ll find her a charming traveling +companion. Her good nature, her abounding interest in her friends +and surroundings, and her fascinating adventures both at home and +abroad have endeared her to thousands all over the country. + +MARY JANE—HER BOOK +MARY JANE—HER VISIT +MARY JANE’S KINDERGARTEN +MARY JANE DOWN SOUTH +MARY JANE’S CITY HOME +MARY JANE IN NEW ENGLAND +MARY JANE’S COUNTRY HOME +MARY JANE AT SCHOOL +MARY JANE IN CANADA +MARY JANE’S SUMMER FUN +MARY JANE’S WINTER SPORTS +MARY JANE’S VACATION +MARY JANE IN ENGLAND +MARY JANE IN SCOTLAND +MARY JANE IN FRANCE +MARY JANE IN SWITZERLAND +MARY JANE IN ITALY +MARY JANE IN SPAIN +MARY JANE’S FRIENDS IN HOLLAND + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + + THE BEVERLY GRAY STORIES + _by_ + CLAIR BLANK + +These stories, full of the fun and thrills of college life, with an +exciting mystery in each, have unusual appeal for the modern girl. + +BEVERLY GRAY, FRESHMAN +BEVERLY GRAY, SOPHOMORE +BEVERLY GRAY, JUNIOR +BEVERLY GRAY, SENIOR +BEVERLY GRAY’S CAREER +BEVERLY GRAY ON A WORLD CRUISE +BEVERLY GRAY IN THE ORIENT +BEVERLY GRAY ON A TREASURE HUNT +BEVERLY GRAY’S RETURN +BEVERLY GRAY, REPORTER +BEVERLY GRAY’S ROMANCE + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + + MELODY LANE MYSTERY STORIES + By LILIAN GARIS + +Thrills, secrets, ghosts—adventures that will fascinate you seem to +surround pretty Carol Duncan. A vivid, plucky girl, her cleverness +at solving mysteries will captivate and thrill every mystery fan. + +THE GHOST OF MELODY LANE + Three people see the "ghost" that wanders in the grove carrying + a waxy white rose. And in the end Carol finds the rose and the + ghost too! + +THE FORBIDDEN TRAIL + Carol has several bad frights before she clears up the mystery + that keeps the family at Splatter Castle unhappy and afraid. + +THE TOWER SECRET + The winking lights from the old tower defy explanation. Had the + engaging circus family anything to do with them? + +THE WILD WARNING + What power did the strange, wild warning in the woods have over + Polly Flinders? Carol brings happiness to three families when + she solves this mystery. + +THE TERROR AT MOANING CLIFF + Carol finally tracks the uncanny “haunts” in the great, bleak + house on “moaning cliff” to their source. + +THE DRAGON OF THE HILLS + When Carol runs a tea shop for a friend, a baffling mystery + comes to her with her first customer. + +THE MYSTERY OF STINGYMAN’S ALLEY + An adorable child is left at the day nursery where Carol + works—who are all the mysterious people trying to claim her? + +THE SECRET OF THE KASHMIR SHAWL + _A sequel to _“The Wild Warning” + A shawl brought from Egypt brings with it an absorbing mystery + which Cecy, with the aid of Polly Flinders, finally solves. + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + FAIRY TALES + _and tales of wonder that + are favorites of young people the world over_ + +ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE Miss Mulock +ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES Hans Christian Andersen +AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH George MacDonald +WIND THE BLUE FAIRY BOOK Andrew Lang +ENGLISH FAIRY TALES Joseph Jacobs +GRANNY’S WONDERFUL CHAIR Frances Browne +GRIMM’S FAIRY TALES The Brothers Grimm +JAPANESE FAIRY TALES Yei Theadora Ozaki +THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE Miss Mulock +PINOCCHIO C. Collodi +THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE George MacDonald +THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN George MacDonald +THE RED FAIRY BOOK Andrew Lang +THE WATER BABIES Charles Kingsley + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + GROSSET &. DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Maida's Little Shop, by Inez Haynes Irwin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP *** + +***** This file should be named 17530-0.txt or 17530-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/3/17530/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/old-2023-12-16/17530-0.zip b/old/old-2023-12-16/17530-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..284db47 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old-2023-12-16/17530-0.zip diff --git a/old/old-2023-12-16/17530-8.txt b/old/old-2023-12-16/17530-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c2bed8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/old-2023-12-16/17530-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7256 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Maida's Little Shop, by Inez Haynes Irwin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Maida's Little Shop + +Author: Inez Haynes Irwin + +Release Date: January 16, 2006 [EBook #17530] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +Maida's Little Shop +By +Inez Haynes Irwin + +Author of +MAIDA'S LITTLE HOUSE, +MAIDA'S LITTLE SCHOOL, ETC. + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers +New York + +Copyright, 1909, by +B. W. HUEBSCH + + + +TO +LITTLE P. D. +FROM +BIG P. D. + + + +CONTENTS + +Chapter I: The Ride +Chapter II: Cleaning Up +Chapter III: The First Day +Chapter IV: The Second Day +Chapter V: Primrose Court +Chapter VI: Two Calls +Chapter VII: Trouble +Chapter VIII: A Rainy Day +Chapter IX: Work +Chapter X: Play +Chapter XI: Halloween +Chapter XII: The First Snow +Chapter XIII: The Fair +Chapter XIV: Christmas Happenings + + + + + MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP + + CHAPTER I: THE RIDE + + +Four people sat in the big, shining automobile. Three of them were +men. The fourth was a little girl. The little girl's name was Maida +Westabrook. The three men were "Buffalo" Westabrook, her father, Dr. +Pierce, her physician, and Billy Potter, her friend. They were +coming from Marblehead to Boston. + +Maida sat in one corner of the back seat gazing dreamily out at the +whirling country. She found it very beautiful and very curious. They +were going so fast that all the reds and greens and yellows of the +autumn trees melted into one variegated band. A moment later they +came out on the ocean. And now on the water side were two other +streaks of color, one a spongy blue that was sky, another a clear +shining blue that was sea. Maida half-shut her eyes and the whole +world seemed to flash by in ribbons. + +"May I get out for a moment, papa?" she asked suddenly in a thin +little voice. "I'd like to watch the waves." + +"All right," her father answered briskly. To the chauffeur he said, +"Stop here, Henri." To Maida, "Stay as long as you want, Posie." + +"Posie" was Mr. Westabrook's pet-name for Maida. + +Billy Potter jumped out and helped Maida to the ground. The three +men watched her limp to the sea-wall. + +She was a child whom you would have noticed anywhere because of her +luminous, strangely-quiet, gray eyes and because of the ethereal +look given to her face by a floating mass of hair, pale-gold and +tendrilly. And yet I think you would have known that she was a sick +little girl at the first glance. When she moved, it was with a great +slowness as if everything tired her. She was so thin that her hands +were like claws and her cheeks scooped in instead of out. She was +pale, too, and somehow her eyes looked too big. Perhaps this was +because her little heart-shaped face seemed too small. + +"You've got to find something that will take up her mind, Jerome," +Dr. Pierce said, lowering his voice, "and you've got to be quick +about it. Just what Greinschmidt feared has come--that languor--that +lack of interest in everything. You've got to find something for her +to _do_." + +Dr. Pierce spoke seriously. He was a round, short man, just exactly +as long any one way as any other. He had springy gray curls all over +his head and a nose like a button. Maida thought that he looked like +a very old but a very jolly and lovable baby. When he laughed--and he +was always laughing with Maida--he shook all over like jelly that has +been turned out of a jar. His very curls bobbed. But it seemed to +Maida that no matter how hard he chuckled, his eyes were always +serious when they rested on her. + +Maida was very fond of Dr. Pierce. She had known him all her life. +He had gone to college with her father. He had taken care of her +health ever since Dr. Greinschmidt left. Dr. Greinschmidt was the +great physician who had come all the way across the ocean from +Germany to make Maida well. Before the operation Maida could not +walk. Now she could walk easily. Ever since she could remember she +had always added to her prayers at night a special request that she +might some day be like other little girls. Now she was like other +little girls, except that she limped. And yet now that she could do +all the things that other little girls did, she no longer cared to +do them--not even hopping and skipping, which she had always expected +would be the greatest fun in the world. Maida herself thought this +very strange. + +"But what can I find for her to do?" "Buffalo" Westabrook said. + +You could tell from the way he asked this question that he was not +accustomed to take advice from other people. Indeed, he did not look +it. But he looked his name. You would know at once why the +cartoonists always represented him with the head of a buffalo; why, +gradually, people had forgotten that his first name was Jerome and +referred to him always as "Buffalo" Westabrook. + +Like the buffalo, his head was big and powerful and emerged from the +midst of a shaggy mane. But it was the way in which it was set on +his tremendous shoulders that gave him his nickname. When he spoke +to you, he looked as if he were about to charge. And the glance of +his eyes, set far back of a huge nose, cut through you like a pair +of knives. + +It surprised Maida very much when she found that people stood in awe +of her father. It had never occurred to her to be afraid of him. + +"I've racked my brains to entertain her," "Buffalo" Westabrook went +on. "I've bought her every gimcrack that's made for children--her +nursery looks like a toy factory. I've bought her prize ponies, +prize dogs and prize cats--rabbits, guinea-pigs, dancing mice, +talking parrots, marmosets--there's a young menagerie at the place in +the Adirondacks. I've had a doll-house and a little theater built +for her at Pride's. She has her own carriage, her own automobile, +her own railroad car. She can have her own flying-machine if she +wants it. I've taken her off on trips. I've taken her to the theater +and the circus. I've had all kinds of nurses and governesses and +companions, but they've been mostly failures. Granny Flynn's the +best of the hired people, but of course Granny's old. I've had other +children come to stay with her. Selfish little brutes they all +turned out to be! They'd play with her toys and ignore her +completely. And this fall I brought her to Boston, hoping her +cousins would rouse her. But the Fairfaxes decided suddenly to go +abroad this winter. If she'd only express a desire for something, +I'd get it for her--if it were one of the moons of Jupiter." + +"It isn't anything you can _give_ her," Dr. Pierce said impatiently; +"you must find something for her to _do_." + +"Say, Billy, you're an observant little duck. Can't you tell us +what's the matter?" "Buffalo" Westabrook smiled down at the third +man of the party. + +"The trouble with the child," Billy Potter said promptly, "is that +everything she's had has been 'prize.' Not that it's spoiled her at +all. Petronilla is as simple as a princess in a fairy-tale." + +"Petronilla" was Billy Potter's pet-name for Maida. + +"Yes, she's wonderfully simple," Dr. Pierce agreed. "Poor little +thing, she's lived in a world of bottles and splints and bandages. +She's never had a chance to realize either the value or the +worthlessness of things." + +"And then," Billy went on, "nobody's ever used an ounce of +imagination in entertaining the poor child." + +"Imagination!" "Buffalo" Westabrook growled. "What has imagination +to do with it?" + +Billy grinned. + +Next to her father and Granny Flynn, Maida loved Billy Potter better +than anybody in the world. He was so little that she could never +decide whether he was a boy or a man. His chubby, dimply face was +the pinkest she had ever seen. From it twinkled a pair of blue eyes +the merriest she had ever seen. And falling continually down into +his eyes was a great mass of flaxen hair, the most tousled she had +ever seen. + +Billy Potter lived in New York. He earned his living by writing for +newspapers and magazines. Whenever there was a fuss in Wall +Street--and the papers always blamed "Buffalo" Westabrook if this +happened--Billy Potter would have a talk with Maida's father. Then he +wrote up what Mr. Westabrook said and it was printed somewhere. Men +who wrote for the newspapers were always trying to talk with Mr. +Westabrook. Few of them ever got the chance. But "Buffalo" +Westabrook never refused to talk with Billy Potter. Indeed, the two +men were great friends. + +"He's one of the few reporters who can turn out a good story and +tell it straight as I give it to him," Maida had once heard her +father say. Maida knew that Billy could turn out good stories--he had +turned out a great many for her. + +"What has imagination to do with it?" Mr. Westabrook repeated. + +"It would have a great deal to do with it, I fancy," Billy Potter +answered, "if somebody would only imagine the right thing." + +"Well, imagine it yourself," Mr. Westabrook snarled. "Imagination +seems to be the chief stock-in-trade of you newspaper men." + +Billy grinned. When Billy smiled, two things happened--one to you and +the other to him. Your spirits went up and his eyes seemed to +disappear. Maida said that Billy's eyes "skrinkled up." The effect +was so comic that she always laughed--not with him but at him. + +"All right," Billy agreed pleasantly; "I'll put the greatest +creative mind of the century to work on the job." + +"You put it to work at once, young man," Dr. Pierce said. "The thing +I'm trying to impress on you both is that you can't wait too long." + +"Buffalo" Westabrook stirred uneasily. His fierce, blue eyes +retreated behind the frown in his thick brows until all you could +see were two shining points. He watched Maida closely as she limped +back to the car. "What are you thinking of, Posie?" he asked. + +"Oh, nothing, father," Maida said, smiling faintly. This was the +answer she gave most often to her father's questions. "Is there +anything you want, Posie?" he was sure to ask every morning, or, +"What would you like me to get you to-day, little daughter?" The +answer was invariable, given always in the same soft, thin little +voice: "Nothing, father--thank you." + +"Where are we now, Jerome?" Dr. Pierce asked suddenly. + +Mr. Westabrook looked about him. "Getting towards Revere." + +"Let's go home through Charlestown," Dr. Pierce suggested. "How +would you like to see the house where I was born, Maida--that old +place on Warrington Street I told you about yesterday. I think you'd +like it, Pinkwink." + +"Pinkwink" was Dr. Pierce's pet-name for Maida. + +"Oh, I'd love to see it." A little thrill of pleasure sparkled in +Maida's flat tones. "I'd just love to." + +Dr. Pierce gave some directions to the chauffeur. + +For fifteen minutes or more the men talked business. They had come +away from the sea and the streams of yellow and red and green trees. +Maida pillowed her head on the cushions and stared fixedly at the +passing streets. But her little face wore a dreamy, withdrawn look +as if she were seeing something very far away. Whenever "Buffalo" +Westabrook's glance shot her way, his thick brows pulled together +into the frown that most people dreaded to face. + +"Now down the hill and then to the left," Dr. Pierce instructed +Henri. + +Warrington Street was wide and old-fashioned. Big elms marching in a +double file between the fine old houses, met in an arch above their +roofs. At intervals along the curbstones were hitching-posts of +iron, most of them supporting the head of a horse with a ring in his +nose. One, the statue of a negro boy with his arms lifted above his +head, seemed to beg the honor of holding the reins. Beside these +hitching-posts were rectangular blocks of granite--stepping-stones +for horseback riders and carriage folk. + +"There, Pinkwink," Dr. Pierce said; "that old house on the +corner--stop here, Henri, please--that's where I was brought up. The +old swing used to hang from that tree and it was from that big bough +stretching over the fence that I fell and broke my arm." + +Maida's eyes brightened. "And there's the garret window where the +squirrels used to come in," she exclaimed. + +"The same!" Dr. Pierce laughed. "You don't forget anything, do you? +My goodness me! How small the house looks and how narrow the street +has grown! Even the trees aren't as tall as they should be." + +Maida stared. The trees looked very high indeed to her. And she +thought the street quite wide enough for anybody, the houses very +stately. + +"Now show me the school," she begged. + +"Just a block or two, Henri," Dr. Pierce directed. + +The car stopped in front of a low, rambling wooden building with a +yard in front. + +"That's where you covered the ceiling with spit-balls," Maida asked. + +"The same!" Dr. Pierce laughed heartily at the remembrance. It +seemed to Maida that she had never seen his curls bob quite so +furiously before. + +"It's one of the few wooden, primary buildings left in the city," he +explained to the two men. "It can't last many years now. It's +nothing but a rat-trap but how I shall hate to see it go!" + +Opposite the school was a big, wide court. Shaded with beautiful +trees--maples beginning to flame, horse-chestnuts a little browned, +it was lined with wooden toy houses, set back of fenced-in yards and +veiled by climbing vines. Pigeons were flying about, alighting now +and then to peck at the ground or to preen their green and purple +necks. Boys were spinning tops. Girls were jumping rope. The dust +they kicked up had a sweet, earthy smell in Maida's nostrils. As she +stared, charmed with the picture, a little girl in a scarlet cape +and a scarlet hat came climbing up over one of the fences. Quick, +active as a squirrel, she disappeared into the next yard. + +"Primrose Court!" Dr. Pierce exclaimed. "Well, well, well!" + +"Primrose Court," Maida repeated. "Do primroses grow there?" + +"Bless your heart, no," Dr. Pierce laughed; "it was named after a +man called Primrose who used to own a great deal of the +neighborhood." + +But Maida was scarcely listening. "Oh, what a cunning little shop!" +she exclaimed. "There, opposite the court. What a perfectly darling +little place!" + +"Good Lord! that's Connors'," Dr. Pierce explained. "Many a reckless +penny I've squandered there, my dear. Connors was the funniest, old, +bent, dried-up man. I wonder who keeps it now." + +As if in answer to his question, a wrinkled old lady came to the +window to take a paper-doll from the dusty display there. + +"What are those yellow things in that glass jar?" Maida asked. + +"Pickled limes," Dr. Pierce responded promptly. "How I used to love +them!" + +"Oh, father, buy me a pickled lime," Maida pleaded. "I never had one +in my life and I've been crazy to taste one ever since I read +'Little Women.'" + +"All right," Mr. Westabrook said. "Let's come in and treat Maida to +a pickled lime." + +A bell rang discordantly as they opened the door. Its prolonged +clangor finally brought the old lady from the room at the back. She +looked in surprise at the three men in their automobile coats and at +the little lame girl. + +Coming in from the bright sunshine, the shop seemed unpleasantly +dark to Maida. After a while she saw that its two windows gave it +light enough but that it was very confused, cluttery and dusty. + +Mr. Westabrook bought four pickled limes and everybody ate--three of +them with enjoyment, Billy with many wry faces and a decided, +"Stung!" after the first taste. + +"I like pickled limes," Maida said after they had started for +Boston. "What a funny little place that was! Oh, how I would like to +keep a little shop just like it." + +Billy Potter started. For a moment it seemed as if he were about to +speak. But instead, he stared hard at Maida, falling gradually into +a brown study. From time to time he came out of it long enough to +look sharply at her. The sparkle had all gone out of her face. She +was pale and dream-absorbed again. + +Her father studied her with increasing anxiety as they neared the +big house on Beacon Street. Dr. Pierce's face was shadowed too. + +"Eureka! I've found it!" Billy exclaimed as they swept past the +State House. "I've got it, Mr. Westabrook." + +"Got what?" + +Billy did not answer at once. The automobile had stopped in front of +a big red-brick house. Over the beautifully fluted columns that held +up the porch hung a brilliant red vine. Lavender-colored glass, here +and there in the windows, made purple patches on the lace of the +curtains. + +"Got what?" Mr. Westabrook repeated impatiently. + +"That little job of the imagination that you put me on a few moments +ago," Billy answered mysteriously. "In a moment," he added with a +significant look at Maida. "You stay too, Dr. Pierce. I want your +approval." + +The door of the beautiful old house had opened and a man in livery +came out to assist Maida. On the threshold stood an old +silver-haired woman in a black-silk gown, a white cap and apron, a little +black shawl pinned about her shoulders. + +"How's my lamb?" she asked tenderly of Maida. + +"Oh, pretty well," Maida said dully. "Oh, Granny," she added with a +sudden flare of enthusiasm, "I saw the cunningest little shop. I +think I'd rather tend shop than do anything else in the world." + +Billy Potter smiled all over his pink face. He followed Mr. +Westabrook and Dr. Pierce into the drawing-room. + + ---------------------- + +Maida went upstairs with Granny Flynn. + +Granny Flynn had come straight to the Westabrook house from the boat +that brought her from Ireland years ago. She had come to America in +search of a runaway daughter but she had never found her. She had +helped to nurse Maida's mother in the illness of which she died and +she had always taken such care of Maida herself that Maida loved her +dearly. Sometimes when they were alone, Maida would call her "Dame," +because, she said, "Granny looks just like the 'Dame' who comes into +fairy-tales." + +Granny Flynn was very little, very bent, very old. "A t'ousand and +noine, sure," she always answered when Maida asked her how old. Her +skin had cracked into a hundred wrinkles and her long sharp nose and +her short sharp chin almost met. But the wrinkles surrounded a pair +of eyes that were a twinkling, youthful blue. And her down-turned +nose and up-growing chin could not conceal or mar the lovely +sweetness of her smile. + +Just before Maida went to bed that night, she was surprised by a +visit from her father. + +"Posie," he said, sitting down on her bed, "did you really mean it +to-day when you said you would like to keep a little shop?" + +"Oh, yes, father! I've been thinking it over ever since I came home +from our ride this afternoon. A little shop, you know, just like the +one we saw to-day." + +"Very well, dear, you shall keep a shop. You shall keep that very +one. I'm going to buy out the business for you and put you in charge +there. I've got to be in New York pretty steadily for the next three +months and I've decided that I'll send you and Granny to live in the +rooms over the shop. I'll fix the place all up for you, give you +plenty of money to stock it and then I expect you to run it and make +it pay." + +Maida sat up in bed with a vigor that surprised her father. She +shook her hands--a gesture that, with her, meant great delight. She +laughed. It was the first time in months that a happy note had +pealed in her laughter. "Oh, father, dear, how good you are to me! +I'm just crazy to try it and I know I can make it pay--if hard work +helps." + +"All right. That's settled. But listen carefully to what I'm going +to say, Posie. I can't have this getting into the papers, you know. +To prevent that, you're to play a game while you're working in the +shop--just as princesses in fairy-tales had to play games sometimes. +You're going _in disguise_. Do you understand?" + +"Yes, father, I understand." + +"You're to pretend that you belong to Granny Flynn, that you're her +grandchild. You won't have to tell any lies about it. When the +children in the neighborhood hear you call her 'Granny,' they'll +simply take it for granted that you're her son's child. + +"Or I can pretend I'm poor Granny's lost daughter's little girl," +Maida suggested. + +"If you wish. Billy Potter's going to stay here in Boston and help +you. You're to call on him, Posie, if you get into any snarl. But I +hope you'll try to settle all your own difficulties before turning +to anybody else. Do you understand?" + +"Yes, father. Father, dear, I'm so happy. Does Granny know?" + +"Yes." + +Maida heaved an ecstatic sigh. "I'm afraid I shan't get to sleep +to-night--just thinking of it." + +But she did sleep and very hard--the best sleep she had known since +her operation. And she dreamed that she opened a shop--a big shop +this was--on the top of a huge white cloud. She dreamed that her +customers were all little boy and girl angels with floating, golden +curls and shining rainbow-colored wings. She dreamed that she sold +nothing but cake. She used to cut generous slices from an angel-cake +as big as the golden dome of the Boston state house. It was very +delicious--all honey and jelly and ice cream on the inside, and all +frosting, stuck with candies and nuts and fruits, on the outside. + + ---------------------- + +The people on Warrington Street were surprised to learn in the +course of a few days that old Mrs. Murdock had sold out her business +in the little corner store. For over a week, the little place was +shut up. The school children, pouring into the street twice a day, +had to go to Main Street for their candy and lead pencils. For a +long time all the curtains were kept down. Something was going on +inside, but what, could not be guessed from the outside. Wagons +deposited all kinds of things at the door, rolls of paper, tins of +paint, furniture, big wooden boxes whose contents nobody could +guess. Every day brought more and more workmen and the more there +were, the harder they worked. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, all +the work stopped. + +The next morning when the neighborhood waked up, a freshly-painted +sign had taken the place over the door of the dingy old black and +white one. The lettering was gilt, the background a skyey blue. It +read: + + MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP + + + + + + CHAPTER II: CLEANING UP + + +The next two weeks were the busiest Maida ever knew. + +In the first place she must see Mrs. Murdock and talk things over. +In the second place, she must examine all the stock that Mrs. +Murdock left. In the third place, she must order new stock from the +wholesale places. And in the fourth place, the rooms must be made +ready for her and Granny to live in. It was hard work, but it was +great fun. + +First, Mrs. Murdock called, at Billy's request, at his rooms on +Mount Vernon Street. Granny and Maida were there to meet her. + +Mrs. Murdock was a tall, thin, erect old lady. Her bright black eyes +were piercing enough, but it seemed to Maida that the round-glassed +spectacles, through which she examined them all, were even more so. + +"I've made out a list of things for the shop that I'm all out of," +she began briskly. "You'll know what the rest is from what's left on +the shelves. Now about buying--there's a wagon comes round once a +month and I've told them to keep right on a-coming even though I +ain't there. They'll sell you your candy, pickles, pickled limes and +all sich stuff. You'll have to buy your toys in Boston--your paper, +pens, pencils, rubbers and the like also, but not at the same places +where you git the toys. I've put all the addresses down on the list. +I don't see how you can make any mistakes." + +"How long will it take you to get out of the shop?" Billy asked. + +Maida knew that Billy enjoyed Mrs. Murdock, for often, when he +looked at that lady, his eyes "skrinkled up," although there was not +a smile on his face. + +"A week is all I need," Mrs. Murdock declared. "If it worn't for +other folks who are keeping me waiting, I'd have that hull place +fixed as clean as a whistle in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Now I'll +put a price on everything, so's you won't be bothered what to +charge. There's some things I don't ever git, because folks buy too +many of them and it's sich an everlasting bother keeping them in +stock. But you're young and spry, and maybe you won't mind jumping +about for every Tom, Dick and Harry. But, remember," she added in +parting, "don't git expensive things. Folks in that neighborhood +ain't got no money to fool away. Git as many things as you can for a +cent a-piece. Git some for five and less for ten and nothing for +over a quarter. But you must allus callulate to buy some things to +lose money on. I mean the truck you put in the window jess to make +folks look in. It gits dusty and fly-specked before you know it and +there's an end on it. I allus send them to the Home for Little +Wanderers at Christmas time." + +Early one morning, a week later, a party of three--Granny Flynn, +Billy and Maida--walked up Beacon Street and across the common to the +subway. Maida had never walked so far in her life. But her father +had told her that if she wanted to keep the shop, she must give up +her carriage and her automobile. That was not hard. She was willing +to give up anything that she owned for the little shop. + +They left the car at City Square in Charlestown and walked the rest +of the way. It was Saturday, a brilliant morning in a beautiful +autumn. All the children in the neighborhood were out playing. Maida +looked at each one of them as she passed. They seemed as wonderful +as fairy beings to her--for would they not all be her customers soon? +And yet, such was her excitement, she could not remember one face +after she had passed it. A single picture remained in her mind--a +picture of a little girl standing alone in the middle of the court. +Black-haired, black-eyed, a vivid spot of color in a scarlet cape +and a scarlet hat, the child was scattering bread-crumbs to a flock +of pigeons. The pigeons did not seem afraid of her. They flew close +to her feet. One even alighted on her shoulder. + +"It makes me think of St. Mark's in Venice," Maida said to Billy. + +But, little girl--scarlet cape--flocks of doves--St. Mark's, all went +out of her head entirely when she unlocked the door of the little +shop. + +"Oh, oh, oh!" she cried, "how nice and clean it looks!" + +The shop seemed even larger than she remembered it. The confused, +dusty, cluttery look had gone. But with its dull paint and its +blackened ceiling, it still seemed dark and dingy. + +Maida ran behind the counter, peeped into the show cases, poked her +head into the window, drew out the drawers that lined the wall, +pulled covers from the boxes on the shelves. There is no knowing +where her investigations would have ended if Billy had not said: + +"See here, Miss Curiosity, we can't put in the whole morning on the +shop. This is a preliminary tour of investigation. Come and see the +rest of it. This way to the living-room!" + +The living-room led from the shop--a big square room, empty now, of +course. Maida limped over to the window. "Oh, oh, oh!" she cried; +"did you ever see such a darling little yard?" + +"It surely is little," Billy agreed, "not much bigger than a pocket +handkerchief, is it?" + +And yet, scrap of a place as the yard was, it had an air of +completeness, a pretty quaintness. Two tiny brick walks curved from +the door to the gate. On either side of these spread out microscopic +flower-beds, crowded tight with plants. Late-blooming dahlias and +asters made spots of starry color in the green. A vine, running over +the door to the second story, waved like a crimson banner dropped +from the window. + +"The old lady must have been fond of flowers," Billy Potter said. He +squinted his near-sighted blue eyes and studied the bunches of +green. "Syringa bush in one corner. Lilac bush in the other. +Nasturtiums at the edges. Morning-glories running up the fence. +Sunflowers in between. My, won't it be fun to see them all racing up +in the spring!" + +Maida jumped up and down at the thought. She could not jump like +other children. Indeed, this was the first time that she had ever +tried. It was as if her feet were like flat-irons. Granny Flynn +turned quickly away and Billy bit his lips. + +"I know just how I'm going to fix this room up for you, Petronilla," +Billy said, nodding his head mysteriously. "Now let's go into the +kitchen." + +The kitchen led from the living-room. Billy exclaimed when he saw it +and Maida shook her hands, but it was Granny who actually screamed +with delight. + +Much bigger than the living-room, it had four windows with sunshine +pouring in through every one of them. But it was not the four +windows nor yet the sunshine that made the sensation--it was the +stone floor. + +"We'll put a carpet on it if you think it's too cold, Granny," Billy +suggested immediately. + +"Oh, lave it be, Misther Billy," Granny begged. "'Tis loike me ould +home in Oireland. Sure 'tis homesick Oi am this very minut looking +at ut." + +"All right," Billy agreed cheerfully. "What you say goes, Granny. +Now upstairs to the sleeping-rooms." + +To get to the second floor they climbed a little stairway not more +than three feet wide, with steps very high, most of them triangular +in shape because the stairway had to turn so often. And +upstairs--after they got there--consisted of three rooms, two big and +square and light, and one smaller and darker. + +"The small room is to be made into a bathroom," Billy explained, +"and these two big ones are to be your bedrooms. Which one will you +have, Maida?" + +Maida examined both rooms carefully. "Well, I don't care for myself +which I have," she said. "But it does seem as if there were a +teeny-weeny more sun in this one. I think Granny ought to have it, for +she loves the sunshine on her old bones. You know, Billy, Granny and I +have the greatest fun about our bones. Hers are all wrong because +they're so old, and mine are all wrong because they're so young." + +"All right," Billy agreed. "Sunshiny one for Granny, shady one for +you. That's settled! I hope you realize, Miss Maida, Elizabeth, +Fairfax, Petronilla, Pinkwink, Posie Westabrook what perfectly bully +rooms these are! They're as old as Noah." + +"I'm glad they're old," Maida said. "But of course they must be. +This house was here when Dr. Pierce was a little boy. And that must +have been a long, long, long time ago." + +"Just look at the floors," Billy went on admiringly. "See how uneven +they are. You'll have to walk straight here, Petronilla, to keep +from falling down. That old wooden wainscoting is simply charming. +That's a nice old fireplace too. And these old doors are perfect." + +Granny Flynn was working the latch of one of the old doors with her +wrinkled hands. "Manny's the toime Oi've snibbed a latch loike that +in Oireland," she said, and she smiled so hard that her very +wrinkles seemed to twinkle. + +"And look at the windows, Granny," Billy said. "Sixteen panes of +glass each. I hope you'll make Petronilla wash them." + +"Oh, Granny, will you let me wash the windows?" Maida asked +ecstatically. + +"When you're grand and sthrong," Granny promised. + +"I know just how I'll furnish the room," Billy said half to himself. + +"Oh, Billy, tell me!" Maida begged. + +"Can't," he protested mischievously. "You've got to wait till it's +all finished before you see hide or hair of it." + +"I know I'll die of curiosity," Maida protested. "But then of course +I shall be very busy with my own business." + +"Ah, yes," Billy replied. "Now that you've embarked on a mercantile +career, Miss Westabrook, I think you'll find that you'll have less +and less time for the decorative side of life." + +Billy spoke so seriously that most little girls would have been awed +by his manner. But Maida recognized the tone that he always employed +when he was joking her. Beside, his eyes were all "skrinkled up." +She did not quite understand what the joke was, but she smiled back +at him. + +"Now can we look at the things downstairs?" she pleaded. + +"Yes," Billy assented. "To-day is a very important day. Behind +locked doors and sealed windows, we're going to take account of +stock." + +Granny Flynn remained in the bedrooms to make all kinds of +mysterious measurements, to open and shut doors, to examine closets, +to try window-sashes, even to poke her head up the chimney. + +Downstairs, Billy and Maida opened boxes and boxes and boxes and +drawers and drawers and drawers. Every one of these had been +carefully gone over by the conscientious Mrs. Murdock. Two boxes +bulged with toys, too broken or soiled to be of any use. These they +threw into the ash-barrel at once. What was left they dumped on the +floor. Maida and Billy sat down beside the heap and examined the +things, one by one. Maida had never seen such toys in her life--so +cheap and yet so amusing. + +It was hard work to keep to business with such enchanting temptation +to play all about them. Billy insisted on spinning every top--he got +five going at once--on blowing every balloon--he produced such +dreadful wails of agony that Granny came running downstairs in great +alarm--on jumping with every jump-rope--the short ones tripped him up +and once he sprawled headlong--on playing jackstones--Maida beat him +easily at this--on playing marbles--with a piece of crayon he drew a +ring on the floor--on looking through all the books--he declared that +he was going to buy some little penny-pamphlet fairy-tales as soon +as he could save the money. But in spite of all this fooling, they +really accomplished a great deal. + +They found very few eatables--candy, fruit, or the like. Mrs. Murdock +had wisely sold out this perishable stock. One glass jar, however, +was crammed full of what Billy recognized to be "bulls-eyes"--round +lumps of candy as big as plums and as hard as stones. Billy said +that he loved bulls-eyes better than terrapin or broiled live +lobster, that he had not tasted one since he was "half-past ten." +For the rest of the day, one of his cheeks stuck out as if he had +the toothache. + +They came across all kinds of odds and ends--lead pencils, +blank-books, an old slate pencil wrapped in gold paper which Billy +insisted on using to draw pictures on a slate--he made this squeak so +that Maida clapped her hands over her ears. They found single pieces +from sets of miniature furniture, a great many dolls, rag-dolls, +china dolls, celluloid dolls, the latest bisque beauties, and two +old-fashioned waxen darlings whose features had all run together +from being left in too great a heat. + +They went through all these things, sorting them into heaps which +they afterwards placed in boxes. At noon, Billy went out and bought +lunch. Still squatting on the floor, the three of them ate +sandwiches and drank milk. Granny said that Maida had never eaten so +much at one meal. + +All this happened on Saturday. Maida did not see the little shop +again until it was finished. + +By Monday the place was as busy as a beehive. Men were putting in a +furnace, putting in a telephone, putting in a bathroom, whitening +the plaster, painting the woodwork. + +Finally came two days of waiting for the paint to dry. "Will it +ever, _ever_, EVER dry?" Maida used to ask Billy in the most +despairing of voices. + +By Thursday, the rooms were ready for their second coat of paint. + +"Oh, Billy, do tell me what color it is--I can't wait to see it," +Maida begged. + +But, "Sky-blue-pink" was all she got from Billy. + +Saturday the furniture came. + +In the meantime, Maida had been going to all the principal wholesale +places in Boston picking out new stock. Granny Flynn accompanied her +or stayed at home, according to the way she felt, but Billy never +missed a trip. + +Maida enjoyed this tremendously, although often she had to go to bed +before dark. She said it was the responsibility that tired her. + +To Maida, these big wholesale places seemed like the storehouses of +Santa Claus. In reality they were great halls, lined with parallel +rows of counters. The counters were covered with boxes and the boxes +were filled with toys. Along the aisles between the counters moved +crowds of buyers, busily examining the display. + +It was particularly hard for Maida to choose, because she was +limited by price. She kept recalling Mrs. Murdock's advice, "Get as +many things as you can for a cent a-piece." The expensive toys +tempted her, but although she often stopped and looked them +wistfully over, she always ended by going to the cheaper counters. + +"You ought to be thinking how you'll decorate the windows for your +first day's sale," Billy advised her. "You must make it look as +tempting as possible. I think, myself, it's always a good plan to +display the toys that go with the season." + +Maida thought of this a great deal after she went to bed at night. +By the end of the week, she could see in imagination just how her +windows were going to look. + +Saturday night, Billy told her that everything was ready, that she +should see the completed house Monday morning. It seemed to Maida +that the Sunday coming in between was the longest day that she had +ever known. + +When she unlocked the door to the shop, the next morning, she let +out a little squeal of joy. "Oh, I would never know it," she +declared. "How much bigger it looks, and lighter and prettier!" + +Indeed, you would never have known the place yourself. The ceiling +had been whitened. The faded drab woodwork had been painted white. +The walls had been colored a beautiful soft yellow. Back of the +counter a series of shelves, glassed in by sliding doors, ran the +whole length of the wall and nearly to the ceiling. Behind the show +case stood a comfortable, cushioned swivel-chair. + +"The stuff you've been buying, Petronilla," Billy said, pointing to +a big pile of boxes in the corner. "Now, while Granny and I are +putting some last touches to the rooms upstairs, you might be +arranging the window." + +"That's just what I planned to do," Maida said, bubbling with +importance. "But you promise not to interrupt me till it's all +done." + +"All right," Billy agreed, smiling peculiarly. He continued to smile +as he opened the boxes. + +It did not occur to Maida to ask them what they were going to do +upstairs. It did not occur to her even to go up there. From time to +time, she heard Granny and Billy laughing. "One of Billy's jokes," +she said to herself. Once she thought she heard the chirp of a bird, +but she would not leave her work to find out what it was. + +When the twelve o'clock whistle blew, she called to Granny and to +Billy to come to see the results of her morning's labor. + +"I say!" Billy emitted a long loud whistle. + +"Oh, do you like it?" Maida asked anxiously. + +"It's a grand piece of work, Petronilla," Billy said heartily. + +The window certainly struck the key-note of the season. Tops of all +sizes and colors were arranged in pretty patterns in the middle. +Marbles of all kinds from the ten-for-a-cent "peeweezers" up to the +most beautiful, colored "agates" were displayed at the sides. +Jump-ropes of variegated colors with handles, brilliantly painted, were +festooned at the back. One of the window shelves had been furnished +like a tiny room. A whole family of dolls sat about on the tiny +sofas and chairs. On the other shelf lay neat piles of blank-books +and paper-blocks, with files of pens, pencils, and rubbers arranged +in a decorative pattern surrounding them all. + +In the show case, fresh candies had been laid out carefully on +saucers and platters of glass. On the counter was a big, flowered +bowl. + +"To-morrow, I'm going to fill that bowl with asters," Maida +explained. + +"OI'm sure the choild has done foine," Granny Flynn said, "Oi cudn't +have done betther mesilf." + +"Now come and look at your rooms, Petronilla," Billy begged, his +eyes dancing. + +Maida opened the door leading into the living-room. Then she +squealed her delight, not once, but continuously, like a very happy +little pig. + +The room was as changed as if some good fairy had waved a magic wand +there. All the woodwork had turned a glistening white. The wall +paper blossomed with garlands of red roses, tied with snoods of red +ribbons. At each of the three windows waved sash curtains of a snowy +muslin. At each of the three sashes hung a golden cage with a pair +of golden canaries in it. Along each of the three sills marched pots +of brilliantly-blooming scarlet geraniums. A fire spluttered and +sparkled in the fireplace, and drawn up in front of it was a big +easy chair for Granny, and a small easy one for Maida. Familiar +things lay about, too. In one corner gleamed the cheerful face of +the tall old clock which marked the hours with so silvery a voice +and the moon-changes by such pretty pictures. In another corner +shone the polished surface of a spidery-legged little spinet. Maida +loved both these things almost as much as if they had been human +beings, for her mother and her grandmother and her great-grandmother +had loved them before her. Needed things caught her eyes everywhere. +Here was a little bookcase with all her favorite books. There was a +desk, stocked with business-like-looking blank-books. Even the +familiar table with Granny's "Book of Saints" stood near the easy +chair. Granny's spectacles lay on an open page, familiarly marking +the place. + +In the center of the room stood a table set for three. + +"It's just the dearest place," Maida said. "Billy, you've remembered +everything. I thought I heard a bird peep once, but I was too busy +to think about it." + +"Want to go upstairs?" Billy asked. + +"I'd forgotten all about bedrooms." Maida flew up the stairs as if +she had never known a crutch. + +The two bedrooms were very simple, all white--woodwork, furniture, +beds, even the fur rugs on the floor. But they were wonderfully gay +from the beautiful paper that Billy had selected. In Granny's room, +the walls imitated a flowered chintz. But in Maida's room every +panel was different. And they all helped to tell the same happy +story of a day's hunting in the time when men wore long feathered +hats on their curls, when ladies dressed like pictures and all +carried falcons on their wrists. + +"Granny, Granny," Maida called down to them, "Did you ever see any +place in all your life that felt so _homey_?" + +"I guess it will do," Billy said in an undertone. + +That night, for the first time, Maida slept in the room over the +little shop. + + + + + + CHAPTER III: THE FIRST DAY + + +If you had gone into the little shop the next day, you would have +seen a very pretty picture. + +First of all, I think you would have noticed the little girl who sat +behind the counter--a little girl in a simple blue-serge dress and a +fresh white "tire"--a little girl with shining excited eyes and +masses of pale-gold hair, clinging in tendrilly rings about a thin, +heart-shaped face--a little girl who kept saying as she turned round +and round in her swivel-chair: + +"Oh, Granny, do you think _anybody's_ going to buy _anything_ +to-day?" + +Next I think you would have noticed an old woman who kept coming to +the living-room door--an old woman in a black gown and a white apron +so stiffly starched that it rattled when it touched anything--an old +woman with twinkling blue eyes and hair, enclosing, as in a silver +frame, a little carved nut of a face--an old woman who kept soothing +the little girl with a cheery: + +"Now joost you be patient, my lamb, sure somebody'll be here soon." + +The shop was unchanged since yesterday, except for a big bowl of +asters, red, white and blue. + +"Three cheers for the red, white and blue," Maida sang when she +arranged them. She had been singing at intervals ever since. +Suddenly the latch slipped. The bell rang. + +Maida jumped. Then she sat so still in her high chair that you would +have thought she had turned to stone. But her eyes, glued to the +moving door, had a look as if she did not know what to expect. + +The door swung wide. A young man entered. It was Billy Potter. + +He walked over to the show case, his hat in his hand. And all the +time he looked Maida straight in the eye. But you would have thought +he had never seen her before. + +"Please, mum," he asked humbly, "do you sell fairy-tales here?" + +Maida saw at once that it was one of Billy's games. She had to bite +her lips to keep from laughing. "Yes," she said, when she had made +her mouth quite firm. "How much do you want to pay for them?" + +"Not more than a penny each, mum," he replied. + +Maida took out of a drawer the pamphlet-tales that Billy had liked +so much. + +"Are these what you want?" she asked. But before he could answer, +she added in a condescending tone, "Do you know how to read, little +boy?" + +Billy's face twitched suddenly and his eyes "skrinkled up." Maida +saw with a mischievous delight that he, in his turn, was trying to +keep the laughter back. + +"Yes, mum," he said, making his face quite serious again. "My +teacher says I'm the best reader in the room." + +He took up the little books and looked them over. "'The Three +Boars'--no,'Bears,'" he corrected himself. "'Puss-in-Boats'--no, +'Boots'; 'Jack-and-the-Bean-Scalp'--no,'Stalk'; 'Jack the +Joint-Cooler'--no, 'Giant-Killer'; 'Cinderella,' 'Bluebird'--no, +'Bluebeard'; 'Little Toody-Goo-Shoes'--no, 'Little Goody-Two-Shoes'; +'Tom Thumb,' 'The Sweeping Beauty,'--no, 'The Sleeping Beauty,' 'The +Babes in the Wood.' I guess I'll take these ten, mum." + +He felt in all his pockets, one after another. After a long time, he +brought out some pennies, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, +eight, nine, ten," he counted slowly. + +He took the books, turned and left the shop. Maida watched him in +astonishment. Was he really going for good? + +In a few minutes the little bell tinkled a second time and there +stood Billy again. + +"Good morning, Petronilla," he said pleasantly, as if he had not +seen her before that morning, "How's business?" + +"Fine!" Maida responded promptly. "I've just sold ten fairy books to +the funniest little boy you ever saw." + +"My stars and garters!" Billy exclaimed. "Business surely is brisk. +Keep that up and you can afford to have a cat. I've brought you +something." + +He opened the bag he carried and took a box out from it. "Hold out +your two hands,--it's heavy," he warned. + +In spite of his preparation, the box nearly fell to the floor--it was +so much heavier than Maida expected. "What can be in it?" she cried +excitedly. She pulled the cover off--then murmured a little "oh!" of +delight. + +The box was full--cram-jam full--of pennies; pennies so new that they +looked like gold--pennies so many that they looked like a fortune. + +"Gracious, what pretty money!" Maida exclaimed. "There must be a +million here." + +"Five hundred," Billy corrected her. + +He put some tiny cylindrical rolls of paper on the counter. Maida +handled them curiously--they, too, were heavy. + +"Open them," Billy commanded. + +Maida pulled the papers away from the tops. Bright new dimes fell +out of one, bright new nickels came from the other. + +"Oh, I'm so glad to have nice clean money," Maida said in a +satisfied tone. She emptied the money drawer and filled its pockets +with the shining coins. "It was very kind of you to think of it, +Billy. I know it will please the children." The thought made her +eyes sparkle. + +The bell rang again. Billy went out to talk with Granny, leaving +Maida alone to cope with her first strange customer. + +Again her heart began to jump into her throat. Her mouth felt dry on +the inside. She watched the door, fascinated. + +On the threshold two little girls were standing. They were exactly +of the same size, they were dressed in exactly the same way, their +faces were as alike as two peas in a pod. Maida saw at once that +they were twins. They had little round, chubby bodies, bulging out +of red sweaters; little round, chubby faces, emerging from tall, +peaky, red-worsted caps. They had big round eyes as expressionless +as glass beads and big round golden curls as stiff as candles. They +stared so hard at Maida that she began to wonder nervously if her +face were dirty. + +"Come in, little girls," she called. + +The little girls pattered over to the show case and looked in. But +their big round eyes, instead of examining the candy, kept peering +up through the glass top at Maida. And Maida kept peering down +through it at them. + +"I want to buy some candy for a cent," one of them whispered in a +timid little voice. + +"I want to buy some candy for a cent, too," the other whispered in a +voice, even more timid. + +"All the cent candy is in this case," Maida explained, smiling. + +"What are you going to have, Dorothy?" one of them asked. + +"I don't know. What are you going to have, Mabel?" the other +answered. They discussed everything in the one-cent case. Always +they talked in whispers. And they continued to look more often at +Maida than at the candy. + +"Have you anything two-for-a-cent?" Mabel whispered finally. + +"Oh, yes--all the candy in this corner." + +The two little girls studied the corner Maida indicated. For two or +three moments they whispered together. At one point, it looked as if +they would each buy a long stick of peppermint, at another, a paper +of lozenges. But they changed their minds a great many times. And in +the end, Dorothy bought two large pickles and Mabel bought two large +chocolates. Maida saw them swapping their purchases as they went +out. + +The two pennies which the twins handed her were still moist from the +hot little hands that had held them. Maida dropped them into an +empty pocket in the money drawer. She felt as if she wanted to keep +her first earnings forever. It seemed to her that she had never seen +such _precious-looking_ money. The gold eagles which her father had +given her at Christmas and on her birthday did not seem half so +valuable. + +But she did not have much time to think of all this. The bell rang +again. This time it was a boy--a big fellow of about fourteen, she +guessed, an untidy-looking boy with large, intent black eyes. A mass +of black hair, which surely had not been combed, fell about a face +that as certainly had not been washed that morning. + +"Give me one of those blue tops in the window," he said gruffly. He +did not add these words but his manner seemed to say, "And be quick +about it!" He threw his money down on the counter so hard that one +of the pennies spun off into a corner. + +He did not offer to pick the penny up. He did not even apologize. +And he looked very carefully at the top Maida handed him as if he +expected her to cheat him. Then he walked out. + +It was getting towards school-time. Children seemed to spring up +everywhere as if they grew out of the ground. The quiet streets +began to ring with the cries of boys playing tag, leap frog and +prisoners' base. The little girls, much more quiet, squatted in +groups on doorsteps or walked slowly up and down, arm-in-arm. But +Maida had little time to watch this picture. The bell was ringing +every minute now. Once there were six children in the little shop +together. + +"Do you need any help?" Granny called. + +"No, Granny, not yet," Maida answered cheerfully. + +But just the same, she did have to hurry. The children asked her for +all kinds of things and sometimes she could not remember where she +had put them. When in answer to the school bell the long lines began +to form at the big doorways, two round red spots were glowing in +Maida's cheeks. She drew an involuntary sigh of relief when she +realized that she was going to have a chance to rest. But first she +counted the money she had taken in. Thirty-seven cents! It seemed a +great deal to her. + +For an hour or more, nobody entered the shop. Billy left in a little +while for Boston. Granny, crooning an old Irish song, busied herself +upstairs in her bedroom. Maida sat back in her chair, dreaming +happily of her work. Suddenly the bell tinkled, rousing her with a +start. + +It seemed a long time after the bell rang before the door opened. +But at last Maida saw the reason of the delay. The little boy who +stood on the threshold was lame. Maida would have known that he was +sick even if she had not seen the crutches that held him up, or the +iron cage that confined one leg. + +His face was as colorless as if it had been made of melted wax. His +forehead was lined almost as if he were old. A tired expression in +his eyes showed that he did not sleep like other children. He must +often suffer, too--his mouth had a drawn look that Maida knew well. + +The little boy moved slowly over to the counter. It could hardly be +said that he walked. He seemed to swing between his crutches exactly +as a pendulum swings in a tall clock. Perhaps he saw the sympathy +that ran from Maida's warm heart to her pale face, for before he +spoke he smiled. And when he smiled you could not possibly think of +him as sick or sad. The corners of his mouth and the corners of his +eyes seemed to fly up together. It made your spirits leap just to +look at him. + +"I'd like a sheet of red tissue paper," he said briskly. + +Maida's happy expression changed. It was the first time that anybody +had asked her for anything which she did not have. + +"I'm afraid I haven't any," she said regretfully. + +The boy looked disappointed. He started to go away. Then he turned +hopefully. "Mrs. Murdock always kept her tissue paper in that drawer +there," he said, pointing. + +"Oh, yes, I do remember," Maida exclaimed. She recalled now a few +sheets of tissue paper that she had left there, not knowing what to +do with them. She pulled the drawer open. There they were, neatly +folded, as she had left them. + +"What did Mrs. Murdock charge for it?" she inquired. + +"A cent a sheet." + +Maida thought busily. "I'm selling out all the old stock," she said. +"You can have all that's left for a cent if you want it." + +"Sure!" the boy exclaimed. "Jiminy crickets! That's a stroke of luck +I wasn't expecting." + +He spread the half dozen sheets out on the counter and ran through +them. He looked up into Maida's face as if he wanted to thank her +but did not know how to put it. Instead, he stared about the shop. +"Say," he exclaimed, "you've made this store look grand. I'd never +know it for the same place. And your sign's a crackajack." + +The praise--the first she had had from outside--pleased Maida. It +emboldened her to go on with the conversation. + +"You don't go to school," she said. + +The moment she had spoken, she regretted it. It was plain to be +seen, she reproached herself inwardly, why he did not go to school. + +"No," the boy said soberly. "I can't go yet. Doc O'Brien says I can +go next year, he thinks. I'm wild to go. The other fellows hate +school but I love it. I s'pose it's because I can't go that I want +to. But, then, I want to learn to read. A fellow can have a good +time anywhere if he knows how to read. I can read some," he added in +a shamed tone, "but not much. The trouble is I don't have anybody to +listen and help with the hard words." + +"Oh, let me help you!" Maida cried. "I can read as easy as +anything." This was the second thing she regretted saying. For when +she came to think of it, she could not see where she was going to +have much time to herself. + +But the little lame boy shook his head. "Can't," he said decidedly. +"You see, I'm busy at home all day long and you'll be busy here. My +mother works out and I have to do most of the housework and take +care of the baby. Pretty slow work on crutches, you know--although +it's easy enough getting round after you get the hang of it. No, I +really don't have any time to fool until evenings." + +"Evenings!" Maida exclaimed electrically. "Why, that's just the +right time! You see I'm pretty busy myself during the daytime--at my +business." Her voice grew a little important on that last phrase. +"Granny! Granny!" she called. + +Granny Flynn appeared in the doorway. Her eyes grew soft with pity +when they fell on the little lame boy. "The poor little gossoon!" +she murmured. + +"Granny," Maida explained, "this little boy can't go to school +because his mother works all day and he has to do the housework and +take care of the baby, too, and he wants to learn to read because he +thinks he won't be half so lonely with books, and you know, Granny, +that's perfectly true, for I never suffered half so much with my +legs after I learned to read." + +It had all poured out in an uninterrupted stream. She had to stop +here to get breath. + +"Now, Granny, what I want you to do is to let me hear him read +evenings until he learns how. You see his mother comes home then and +he can leave the baby with her. Oh, do let me do it, Granny! I'm +sure I could. And I really think you ought to. For, if you'll excuse +me for saying so, Granny, I don't think you can understand as well +as I do what a difference it will make." She turned to the boy. +"Have you read 'Little Men' and 'Little Women'?" + +"No--why, I'm only in the first reader." + +"I'll read them to you," Maida said decisively, "and 'Treasure +Island' and 'The Princes and the Goblins' and 'The Princess and +Curdie.'" She reeled off the long list of her favorites. + +In the meantime, Granny was considering the matter. Dr. Pierce had +said to her of Maida: "Let her do anything that she wants to do--as +long as it doesn't interfere with her eating and sleeping. The main +thing to do is to get her _to want to do things_." + +"What's your name, my lad?" she asked. + +"Dicky Dore, ma'am," the boy answered respectfully. + +"Well, Oi don't see why you shouldn't thry ut, acushla," she said to +Maida. "A half an hour iv'ry avening after dinner. Sure, in a wake, +'twill be foine and grand we'll be wid the little store running like +a clock." + +"We'll begin next week, Monday," Maida said eagerly. "You come over +here right after dinner." + +"All right." The little lame boy looked very happy but, again, he +did not seem to know what to say. "Thank you, ma'am," he brought out +finally. "And you, too," turning to Maida. + +"My name's Maida." + +"Thank you, Maida," the boy said with even a greater display of +bashfulness. He settled the crutches under his thin shoulders. + +"Oh, don't go, yet," Maida pleaded. "I want to ask you some +questions. Tell me the names of those dear little girls--the twins." + +Dicky Dore smiled his radiant smile. "Their last name's Clark. Say, +ain't they the dead ringers for each other? I can't tell Dorothy +from Mabel or Mabel from Dorothy." + +"I can't, either," Maida laughed. "It must be fun to be a twin--to +have any kind of a sister or brother. Who's that big boy--the one +with the hair all hanging down on his face?" + +"Oh, that's Arthur Duncan." Dicky's whole face shone. "He's a dandy. +He can lick any boy of his size in the neighborhood. I bet he could +lick any boy of his size in the world. I bet he could lick his +weight in wild-cats." + +Maida's brow wrinkled. "I don't like him," she said. "He's not +polite." + +"Well, I like him," Dicky Dore maintained stoutly. "He's the best +friend I've got anywhere. Arthur hasn't any mother, and his father's +gone all day. He takes care of himself. He comes over to my place a +lot. You'll like him when you know him." + +The bell tinkling on his departure did not ring again till noon. But +Maida did not mind. + +"Granny," she said after Dicky left, "I think I've made a friend. +Not a friend somebody's brought to me--but a friend of my very own. +Just think of that!" + +At twelve, Maida watched the children pour out of the little +schoolhouse and disappear in all directions. At two, she watched +them reappear from all directions and pour into it again. But +between those hours she was so busy that she did not have time to +eat her lunch until school began again. After that, she sat +undisturbed for an hour. + +In the middle of the afternoon, the bell rang with an +important-sounding tinkle. Immediately after, the door shut with an +important-sounding slam. The footsteps, clattering across the room to +the show case, had an important-sounding tap. And the little girl, who +looked inquisitively across the counter at Maida, had decidedly an +important manner. + +She was not a pretty child. Her skin was too pasty, her blue eyes +too full and staring. But she had beautiful braids of glossy brown +hair that came below her waist. And you would have noticed her at +once because of the air with which she wore her clothes and because +of a trick of holding her head very high. + +Maida could see that she was dressed very much more expensively than +the other children in the neighborhood. Her dark, blue coat was +elaborate with straps and bright buttons. Her pale-blue beaver hat +was covered with pale-blue feathers. She wore a gold ring with a +turquoise in it, a silver bracelet with a monogram on it, a little +gun-metal watch pinned to her coat with a gun-metal pin, and a long +string of blue beads from which dangled a locket. + +Maida noticed all this decoration with envy, for she herself was +never permitted to wear jewelry. Occasionally, Granny would let her +wear one string from a big box of bead necklaces which Maida had +bought in Venice. + +"How much is that candy?" the girl asked, pointing to one of the +trays. + +Maida told her. + +"Dear me, haven't you anything better than that?" + +Maida gave her all her prices. + +"I'm afraid there's nothing good enough here," the little girl went +on disdainfully. "My mother won't let me eat cheap candy. Generally, +she has a box sent over twice a week from Boston. But the one we +expected to-day didn't come." + +"The little girl likes to make people think that she has nicer +things than anybody else," Maida thought. She started to speak. If +she had permitted herself to go on, she would have said: "The candy +in this shop is quite good enough for any little girl. But I won't +sell it to you, anyway." But, instead, she said as quietly as she +could: "No, I don't believe there's anything here that you'll care +for. But I'm sure you'll find lots of expensive candy on Main +Street." + +The little girl evidently was not expecting that answer. She +lingered, still looking into the show case. "I guess I'll take five +cents' worth of peppermints," she said finally. Some of the +importance had gone out of her voice. + +Maida put the candy into a bag and handed it to her without +speaking. The girl bustled towards the door. Half-way, she stopped +and came back. + +"My name is Laura Lathrop," she said. "What's yours?" + +"Maida." + +"Maida?" the girl repeated questioningly. "Maida?--oh, yes, I +know--Maida Flynn. Where did you live before you came here?" + +"Oh, lots of places." + +"But where?" Laura persisted. + +"Boston, New York, Newport, Pride's Crossing, the Adirondacks, +Europe." + +"Oh, my! Have you been to Europe?" Laura's tone was a little +incredulous. + +"I lived abroad a year." + +"Can you speak French?" + +"Oui, Mademoiselle, je parle Franais un peu." + +"Say some more," Laura demanded. + +Maida smiled. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, +dix, onze, douze--" + +Laura looked impressed. "Do you speak any other language?" + +"Italian and German--a very little." + +Laura stared hard at her and her look was full of question. But it +was evident that she decided to believe Maida. + +"I live in Primrose Court," she said, and now there was not a shadow +of condescension left in her voice. "That large house at the back +with the big lawn about it. I'd like to have you come and play with +me some afternoon. I'm very busy most of the time, though. I take +music and fancy dancing and elocution. Next winter, I'm going to +take up French. I'll send you word some afternoon when I have time +to play." + +"Thank you," Maida said in her most civil voice. "Come and play with +me sometime," she added after a pause. + +"Oh, my mother doesn't let me play in other children's houses," +Laura said airily. "Good-bye." + +"Good-bye," Maida answered. + +She waited until Laura had disappeared into the court. "Granny," she +called impetuously, "a little girl's been here who I think is the +hatefullest, horridest, disagreeablest thing I ever saw in my life." + +"Why, what did the choild do?" Granny asked in surprise. + +"Do?" Maida repeated. "She did everything. Why, she--she--" She +interrupted herself to think hard a moment. "Well, it's the queerest +thing. I can't tell you a thing she did, Granny, and yet, all the +time she was here I wanted to slap her." + +"There's manny folks that-a-way," said Granny. "The woisest way is +to take no notuce av ut." + +"Take no notice of it!" Maida stormed. "It's just like not taking +any notice of a bee when it's stinging you." + +Maida was so angry that she walked into the living-room without +limping. + +At four that afternoon, when the children came out of school, there +was another flurry of trade. Towards five, it slackened. Maida sat +in her swivel-chair and wistfully watched the scene in the court. +Little boys were playing top. Little girls were jumping rope. Once +she saw a little girl in a scarlet cape come out of one of the +yards. On one shoulder perched a fluffy kitten. Following her, +gamboled an Irish setter and a Skye terrier. Presently it grew dark +and the children began to go indoors. Maida lighted the gas and lost +herself in "Gulliver's Travels." + +The sound of voices attracted her attention after awhile. She turned +in her chair. Outside, staring into the window, stood a little boy +and girl--a ragged, dirty pair. Their noses pressed so hard against +the glass that they were flattened into round white circles. They +took no notice of Maida. Dropping her eyes to her book, she +pretended to read. + +"I boneys that red top, first," said the little boy in a piping +voice. + +He was a round, brown, pop-eyed, big-mouthed little creature. Maida +could not decide which he looked most like--a frog or a brownie. She +christened him "the Bogle" at once. + +"I boneys that little pink doll with the curly hair, first," said +the girl. + +She was a round, brown little creature, too--but pretty. She had +merry brown eyes and a merry little red and white smile. Maida +christened her "the Robin." + +"I boneys that big agate, second," said the Bogle. + +"I boneys that little table, second," said the Robin. + +"I boneys that knife, third," said the Bogle. + +"I boneys that little chair, third," said the Robin. + +Maida could not imagine what kind of game they were playing. She +went to the door. "Come in, children," she called. + +The children jumped and started to run away. But they stopped a +little way off, turned and stood as if they were not certain what to +do. Finally the Robin marched over to Maida's side and the Bogle +followed. + +"Tell me about the game you were playing," Maida said. "I never +heard of it before." + +"'Tain't any game," the Bogle said. + +"We were just boneying," the Robin explained. "Didn't you ever boney +anything?" + +"No." + +"Why, you boneys things in store windows," the Robin went on. "You +always boney with somebody else. You choose one thing for yours and +they choose something else for theirs until everything in the window +is all chosen up. But of course they don't really belong to you. You +only play they do." + +"I see," Maida said. + +She went to the window and took out the red top and the little pink +doll with curly hair. "Here, these are the things you boneyed first. +You may have them." + +"Oh, thank you--thank you--thank you," the Robin exclaimed. She kissed +the little pink doll ecstatically, stopping now and then to look +gratefully at Maida. + +"Thank you," the Bogle echoed. He did not look at Maida but he began +at once to wind his top. + +"What is your name?" Maida asked. + +"Molly Doyle," the Robin answered. "And this is my brother, Timmie +Doyle." + +"My name's Maida. Come and see me again, Molly, and you, too, +Timmie." + +"Of course I'll come," Molly answered, "and I'm going to name my +doll 'Maida.'" + +Molly ran all the way home, her doll tightly clutched to her breast. +But Timmie stopped to spin his top six times--Maida counted. + +No more customers came that evening. At six, Maida closed and locked +the shop. + +After dinner she thought she would read one of her new books. She +settled herself in her little easy chair by the fire and opened to a +story with a fascinating picture. But the moment her eyes fell on +the page--it was the strangest thing--a drowsiness, as deep as a +fairy's enchantment, fell upon her. She struggled with it for +awhile, but she could not throw it off. The next thing she knew, +Granny was helping her up the stairs, was undressing her, had laid +her in her bed. The next thing she was saying dreamily, "I made one +dollar and eighty-seven cents to-day. If my papa ever gets into any +more trouble in Wall Street, he can borrow from me." + +The next thing, she felt the pillow soft and cool under her cheek. +The next thing--bright sunlight was pouring through the window--it was +morning again. + + + + + + CHAPTER IV: THE SECOND DAY + + +It had rained all that night, but the second morning dawned the +twinklingest kind of day. It seemed to Maida that Mother Nature had +washed a million tiny, fleecy, white clouds and hung them out to dry +in the crisp blue air. Everything still dripped but the brilliant +sunshine put a sparkle on the whole world. Slates of old roofs +glistened, brasses of old doors glittered, silver of old name-plates +shone. Curbstones, sidewalks, doorsteps glimmered and gleamed. The +wet, ebony-black trunks of the maples smoked as if they were afire, +their thick-leaved, golden heads flared like burning torches. Maida +stood for a long time at the window listening to a parrot who called +at intervals from somewhere in the neighborhood. "Get up, you +sleepy-heads! Get up! Get up!" + +A huge puddle stretched across Primrose Court. When Maida took her +place in the swivel-chair, three children had begun already to float +shingles across its muddy expanse. Two of them were Molly and Tim +Doyle, the third a little girl whom Maida did not know. For a time +she watched them, fascinated. But, presently, the school children +crowding into the shop took all her attention. After the bell rang +and the neighborhood had become quiet again, she resumed her watch +of the mud-puddle fun. + +Now they were loading their shingles with leaves, twigs, pebbles, +anything that they could find in the gutters. By lashing the water +into waves, as they trotted in the wake of their frail craft, they +managed to sail them from one end of the puddle to the other. Maida +followed the progress of these merchant vessels as breathlessly as +their owners. Some capsized utterly. Others started to founder and +had to be dragged ashore. A few brought the cruise to a triumphant +finish. + +But Tim soon put an end to this fun. Unexpectedly, his foot caught +somewhere and he sprawled headlong in the tide. "Oh, Tim!" Molly +said. But she said it without surprise or anger. And Tim lay flat on +his stomach without moving, as if it were a common occurrence with +him. Molly waded out to him, picked him up and marched him into the +house. + +The other little girl had disappeared. Suddenly she came out of one +of the yards, clasping a Teddy-bear and a whole family of dolls in +her fat arms. She sat down at the puddle's edge and began to undress +them. Maida idly watched the busy little fingers--one, two, three, +four, five--now there were six shivering babies. What was she going +to do with them? Maida wondered. + +"Granny," Maida called, "do come and see this little girl! She's--" +But Maida did not finish that sentence in words. It ended in a +scream. For suddenly the little girl threw the Teddy-bear and all +the six dolls into the puddle. Maida ran out the door. Half-way +across the court she met Dicky Dore swinging through the water. +Between them they fished all the dolls out. One was of celluloid and +another of rubber--they had floated into the middle of the pond. Two +china babies had sunk to the very bottom--their white faces smiled +placidly up through the water at their rescuers. A little rag-doll +lay close to the shore, water-logged. A pretty paper-doll had melted +to a pulp. And the biggest and prettiest of them, a lovely blonde +creature with a shapely-jointed body and a bisque head, covered with +golden curls, looked hopelessly bedraggled. + +"Oh, Betsy Hale!" Dicky said. "You naughty, naughty girl! How could +you drown your own children like that?" + +"I were divin' them a baff," Betsy explained. + +Betsy was a little, round butterball of a girl with great brown eyes +all tangled up in eyelashes and a little pink rosebud of a mouth, +folded over two rows of mice-teeth. She smiled deliciously up into +Maida's face: + +"I aren't naughty, is I?" she asked. + +"Naughty? You bunny-duck! Of course you are," Maida said, giving her +a bear-hug. "I don't see how anybody can scold her," she whispered +to Dicky. + +"Scold her! You can't," Dicky said disgustedly. "She's too cute. And +then if you did scold her it wouldn't do any good. She's the +naughtiest baby in the neighborhood--although," he added with pride, +"I think Delia's going to be pretty nearly as naughty when she gets +big enough. But Betsy Hale--why, the whole street has to keep an eye +on her. Come, pick up your dollies, Betsy," he wheedled, "they'll +get cold if you leave them out here." + +The thought of danger to her darlings produced immediate activity on +Betsy's part. She gathered the dolls under her cape, hugging them +close. "Her must put her dollies to bed," she said wisely. + +"Calls herself _her_ half the time," Dicky explained. He gathered up +the dresses and shooing Betsy ahead of him, followed her into the +yard. + +"She's the greatest child I ever saw," he said, rejoining Maida a +little later. "The things she thinks of to do! Why, the other day, +Miss Allison--the sister of the blind lady what sits in the window +and knits--the one what owns the parrot--well, Miss Allison painted +one of her old chairs red and put it out in the yard to dry. Then +she washed a whole lot of lace and put that out to dry. Next thing +she knew she looked out and there was Betsy washing all the red +paint off the chair with the lace. You'd have thought that would +have been enough for one day, wouldn't you? Well, that afternoon she +turned the hose on Mr. Flanagan--that's the policeman on the beat." + +"What did he say?" Maida asked in alarm. She had a vague imaginary +picture of Betsy being dragged to the station-house. + +"Roared! But then Mr. Flanagan thinks Betsy's all right. Always +calls her 'sophy Sparkles.' Betsy runs away about twice a week. Mr. +Flanagan's always finding her and lugging her home. I guess every +policeman in Charlestown knows her by this time. There, look at her +now! Did you ever see such a kid?" + +Betsy had come out of the yard again. She was carrying a huge +feather duster over her head as if it were a parasol. + +"The darling!" Maida said joyously. "I hope she'll do something +naughty every day." + +"Queer how you love a naughty child," Dick said musingly. "They're +an awful lot of trouble but you can't help liking them. Has Tim +Doyle fallen into the puddle yet?" + +"Yes, just a little while ago." + +"He's always falling in mud puddles. I guess if Molly fishes him out +once after a rain, she does a half a dozen times." + +"Do come and see me, Dicky, won't you?" Maida asked when they got to +the shop door. "You know I shall be lonely when all the children are +in school and--then besides--you're the first friend I've made." + +At the word _friend_, Dicky's beautiful smile shone bright. "Sure, +I'll come," he said heartily. "I'll come often." + +"Granny," Maida exclaimed, bursting into the kitchen, "wait until +you hear about Betsy Hale." She told the whole story. "Was I ever a +naughty little girl?" she concluded. + +"Naughty? Glory be, and what's ailing you? 'Twas the best choild +this side of Heaven that you was. Always so sick and yet niver a +cross wurrud out of you." + +A shadow fell over Maida's face. "Oh, dear, dear," she grieved. "I +wish I had been a naughty child--people love naughty children so. Are +you quite sure I was always good, Granny?" + +"Why, me blessid lamb, 'twas too sick that you was to be naughty. +You cud hardly lift one little hand from the bed." + +"But, Granny, dear," Maida persisted, "can't you think of one +single, naughty thing I did? I'm sure you can if you try hard." + +Maida's face was touched with a kind of sad wistfulness. Granny +looked down at her, considerably puzzled. Then a light seemed to +break in her mind. It shone through her blue eyes and twinkled in +her smile. + +"Sure and Oi moind wance when Oi was joost afther giving you some +medicine and you was that mad for having to take the stuff that you +sat oop in bed and knocked iv'ry bottle off the table. Iv'ry wan! +Sure, we picked oop glass for a wake afther." + +Maida's wistful look vanished in a peal of silvery laughter. "Did I +really, Granny?" she asked in delight. "Did I break every bottle? +Are you sure? Every one?" + +"Iv'ry wan as sure as OI'm a living sinner," said Granny. "Faith and +'twas the bad little gyurl that you was often--now that I sthop to +t'ink av ut." + +Maida bounded back to the shop in high spirits. Granny heard her say +"Every bottle!" again and again in a whispering little voice. + +"Just think, Granny," she called after a while. "I've made one, two, +three, four, five friends--Dicky, Molly, Tim, Betsy and Laura--though +I don't call her quite a friend yet. Pretty good for so soon!" + +Maida was to make a sixth friend, although not quite so quickly. + +It began that noontime with a strange little scene that acted itself +out in front of Maida's window. The children had begun to gather for +school, although it was still very quiet. Suddenly around the corner +came a wild hullaballoo--the shouts of small boys, the yelp of a dog, +the rattle and clang of tin dragged on the brick sidewalk. In +another instant appeared a dog, a small, yellow cur, collarless and +forlorn-looking, with a string of tin cans tied to his tail, a horde +of small boys yelling after him and pelting him with stones. + +Maida started up, but before she could get to the door, something +flashed like a scarlet comet from across the street. It was the +little girl whom Maida had seen twice before--the one who always wore +the scarlet cape. + +Even in the excitement, Maida noticed how handsome she was. She +seemed proud. She carried her slender, erect little body as if she +were a princess and her big eyes cast flashing glances about her. +Jet-black were her eyes and hair, milk-white were her teeth but in +the olive of her cheeks flamed a red such as could be matched only +in the deepest roses. Maida christened her Rose-Red at once. + +Rose-Red lifted the little dog into her arms with a single swoop of +her strong arm. She yanked the cans from its tail with a single +indignant jerk. Fondling the trembling creature against her cheek, +she talked first to him, then to his abashed persecutors. + +"You sweet, little, darling puppy, you! Did they tie the wicked cans +to his poor little tail!" and then--"if ever I catch one of you boys +treating a poor, helpless animal like this again, I'll shake the +breath out of your body--was he the beautifullest dog that ever was? +And if that isn't enough, Arthur Duncan will lick you all, won't +you, Arthur?" She turned pleadingly to Arthur. + +Arthur nodded. + +"Nobody's going to hurt helpless creatures while I'm about! He was a +sweet little, precious little, pretty little puppy, so he was." + +Rose-Red marched into the court with the puppy, opened a gate and +dropped him inside. + +"That pup belongs to me, now," she said marching back. + +The school bell ringing at this moment ended the scene. + +"Who's that little girl who wears the scarlet cape?" Maida asked +Dorothy and Mabel Clark when they came in together at four. + +"Rosie Brine," they answered in chorus. + +"She's a dreffle naughty girl," Mabel said in a whisper, and "My +mommer won't let me play with her," Dorothy added. + +"Why not?" Maida asked. + +"She's a tom-boy," Mabel informed her. + +"What's a tom-boy?" Maida asked Billy that night at dinner. + +"A tom-boy?" Billy repeated. "Why, a tom-boy is a girl who acts like +a boy." + +"How can a girl be a boy?" Maida queried after a few moments of +thought. "Why don't they call her a tom-girl?" + +"Why, indeed?" Billy answered, taking up the dictionary. + +Certainly Rosie Brine acted like a boy--Maida proved that to herself +in the next few days when she watched Rose-Red again and again. But +if she were a tom-boy, she was also, Maida decided, the most +beautiful and the most wonderful little girl in the world. And, +indeed, Rosie was so full of energy that it seemed to spurt out in +the continual sparkle of her face and the continual movement of her +body. She never walked. She always crossed the street in a series of +flying jumps. She never went through a gate if she could go over the +fence, never climbed the fence if she could vault it. The scarlet +cape was always flashing up trees, over sheds, sometimes to the very +roofs of the houses. Her principal diversion seemed to be climbing +lamp-posts. Maida watched this proceeding with envy. One athletic +leap and Rose-Red was clasping the iron column half-way up--a few +more and she was swinging from the bars under the lantern. But she +was accomplished in other ways. She could spin tops, play "cat" and +"shinney" as well as any of the boys. And as for jumping rope--if two +little girls would swing for her, Rosie could actually waltz in the +rope. + +The strangest thing about Rosie was that she did not always go to +school like the other children. The incident of the dog happened on +Thursday. Friday morning, when the children filed into the +schoolhouse, Rosie did not follow them. Instead, she hid herself in +a doorway until after the bell rang. A little later she sneaked out +of her hiding place, joined Arthur Duncan at the corner, and +disappeared into the distance. Just before twelve they both came +back. For a few moments, they kept well concealed on a side street, +out of sight of Primrose Court. But, at intervals, Rosie or Arthur +would dart out to a spot where, without being seen, they could get a +glimpse of the church clock. When the children came out of school at +twelve, they joined the crowd and sauntered home. + +Monday morning Maida saw them repeat these maneuvers. She was +completely mystified by them and yet she had an uncomfortable +feeling. They were so stealthy that she could not help guessing that +something underhand was going on. + +"Do you know Rosie Brine?" Maida asked Dicky Dore one evening when +they were reading together. + +"Sure!" Dicky's face lighted up. "Isn't she a peach?" + +"They say she is a tom-boy," Maida objected. "Is she?" + +"Surest thing you know," Dicky said cheerfully. "She won't take a +dare. You ought to see her playing stumps. There's nothing a boy can +do that she won't do. And have you noticed how she can spin a +top--the best I ever saw for a girl." + +Then boys liked girls to be tom-boys. This was a great surprise. + +"How does it happen that she doesn't go to school often?" + +Dicky grinned. "Hooking jack!" + +"Hooking jack?" Maida repeated in a puzzled tone. + +"Hooking jack--playing hookey--playing truant." Dicky watched Maida's +face but her expression was still puzzled. "Pretending to go to +school and not going," he said at last. + +"Oh," Maida said. "I understand now." + +"She just hates school," Dicky went on. "They can't make her go. Old +Stoopendale, the truant officer, is always after her. Little she +cares for old Stoopy though. She gets fierce beatings for it at +home, too. Funny thing about Rosie--she won't tell a lie. And when +her mother asks her about it, she always tells the truth. Sometimes +her mother will go to the schoolhouse door with her every morning +and afternoon for a week. But the moment she stops, Rosie begins to +hook jack again." + +"Mercy me!" Maida said. In all her short life she had never heard +anything like this. She was convinced that Rosie Brine was a very +naughty little girl. And yet, underneath this conviction, burned an +ardent admiration for her. + +"She must be very brave," she said soberly. + +"Brave! Well, I guess you'd think so! Arthur Duncan says she's +braver than a lot of boys he knows. Arthur and she hook jack +together sometimes. And, oh cracky, don't they have the good times! +They go down to the Navy Yard and over to the Monument Grounds. +Sometimes they go over to Boston Common and the Public Garden. Once +they walked all the way to Franklin Park. And in the summer they +often walk down to Crescent Beach. They say when I get well, I can +go with them." + +Dicky spoke in the wistful tone with which he always related the +deeds of stronger children. Maida knew exactly how he felt--she had +been torn by the same hopes and despairs. + +"Oh, wouldn't it be grand to be able to do just anything?" she said. +"I'm just beginning to feel as if I could do some of the things I've +always wanted to do." + +"I'm going to do them all, sometime," Dicky prophesied. "Doc O'Brien +says so." + +"I think Rosie the beautifullest little girl," Maida said. "I wish +she'd come into the shop so that I could get acquainted with her." + +"Oh, she'll come in sometime. You see the W.M.N.T. is meeting now +and we're all pretty busy. She's the only girl in it." + +"The W.M.N.T.," Maida repeated. "What does that mean?" + +"I can't tell?" Dicky said regretfully. "It's the name of our club. +Rosie and Arthur and I are the only ones who belong." + +After that talk, Maida watched Rosie Brine closer than ever. If she +caught a glimpse of the scarlet cape in the distance, it was hard to +go on working. She noticed that Rosie seemed very fond of all +helpless things. She was always wheeling out the babies in the +neighborhood, always feeding the doves and carrying her kitten about +on her shoulder, always winning the hearts of other people's dogs +and then trying to induce them not to follow her. + +"It seems strange that she never comes into the shop," Maida said +mournfully to Dicky one day. + +"You see she never has any money to spend," Dicky explained. "That's +the way her mother punishes her. But sometimes she earns it on the +sly taking care of babies. She loves babies and babies always love +her. Delia'll go to her from my mother any time and as for Betsy +Hale--Rosie's the only one who can do anything with her." + +But a whole week passed. And then one day, to Maida's great delight, +the tinkle of the bell preceded the entrance of Rose-Red. + +"Let me look at your tops, please," Rosie said, marching to the +counter with the usual proud swing of her body. + +Seen closer, she was even prettier than at a distance. Her smooth +olive skin glistened like satin. Her lips showed roses even more +brilliant than those that bloomed in her cheeks. A frown between her +eyebrows gave her face almost a sullen look. But to offset this, her +white teeth turned her smile into a flash of light. Maida lifted all +the tops from the window and placed them on the counter. + +"Mind if I try them?" Rosie asked. + +"Oh, do." + +Rosie wound one of them with an expert hand. Then with a quick dash +forward of her whole arm, she threw the top to the floor. It danced +there, humming like a whole hiveful of bees. + +"Oh, how lovely!" Maida exclaimed. Then in fervent admiration: "What +a wonderful girl you are!" + +Rosie smiled. "Easy as pie if you know how. Want to learn?" + +"Oh, will you teach me?" + +"Sure! Begin now." + +Maida limped from behind the counter. Rosie watched her. Rosie's +face softened with the same pity that had shone on the frightened +little dog. + +"She's sorry for me," Maida thought. "How sweet she looks!" + +But Rosie said nothing about Maida's limp. She explained the process +of top-spinning from end to end, step by step, making Maida copy +everything that she did. At first Maida was too eager--her hands +actually trembled. But gradually she gained in confidence. At last +she succeeded in making one top spin feebly. + +"Now you've got the hang of it," Rosie encouraged her, "You'll soon +learn. All you want to do is to practice. I'll come to-morrow and +see how you're getting on." + +"Oh, do," Maida begged, "and come to see me in the evening sometime. +Come this evening if your mother'll let you." + +Rosie laughed scornfully. "I guess nobody's got anything to say +about _letting me_, if I make up my mind to come. Well, goodbye!" + +She whirled out of the shop and soon the scarlet cape was a +brilliant spot in the distance. + +But about seven that evening the bell rang. When Maida opened the +door there stood Rosie. + +"Oh, Rosie," Maida said joyfully, throwing her arms about her guest, +"how glad I am to see you!" She hurried her into the living-room +where Billy Potter was talking with Granny. "This is Rosie Brine, +Billy," she said, her voice full of pride in her new friend. "And +this is Billy Potter, Rosie." + +Billy shook hands gravely with the little girl. And Rosie looked at +him in open wonder. Maida knew exactly what she was thinking. Rosie +was trying to make up her mind whether he was a boy or a man. The +problem seemed to grow more perplexing as the evening went on. For +part of the time Billy played with them, sitting on the floor like a +boy, and part of the time he talked with Granny, sitting in a chair +like a man. + +Maida showed Rosie her books, her Venetian beads, all her cherished +possessions. Rosie liked the canaries better than anything. "Just +think of having six!" she said. Then, sitting upstairs in Maida's +bedroom, the two little girls had a long confidential talk. + +"I've been just crazy to know you, Maida," Rosie confessed. "But +there was no way of getting acquainted, for you always stayed in the +store. I had to wait until I could tease mother to buy me a top." + +"That's funny," Maida said, "for I was just wild to know you. I kept +hoping that you'd come in. I hope you'll come often, Rosie, for I +don't know any other little girl of my own age." + +"You know Laura Lathrop, don't you?" Rosie asked with a sideways +look. + +"Yes, but I don't like her." + +"Nobody likes her," Rosie said. "She's too much of a smarty-cat. She +loves to get people over there and then show off before them. And +then she puts on so many airs. I won't have anything to do with +her." + +From the open window came the shrill scream of Miss Allison's +parrot. "What do you think of that?" it called over and over again. + +"Isn't that a clever bird?" Rosie asked admiringly. "His name is +Tony. I have lots of fun with him. Did you ever see a parrot that +could talk, before?" + +"Oh, yes, we have several at Pride's." + +"Pride's?" + +"Pride's Crossing. That's where we go summers." + +"And what do your parrots say?" + +"One talked in French. He used to say 'Taisez-vous' so much that +sometimes we would have to put a cover over the cage to stop him." + +"And did you have other animals besides parrots?" Rosie asked. "I +love animals." + +"Oh, yes, we had horses and dogs and cats and rabbits and dancing +mice and marmosets and macaws and parokets and--I guess I've +forgotten some of them. But if you like animals, you ought to go to +our place in the Adirondacks--there are deer preserves there and +pheasants and peacocks." + +"Who do they belong to?" + +"My father." + +Rosie considered this. "Does he keep a bird-place?" she asked in a +puzzled tone. + +"No." Maida's tone was a little puzzled too. She did not know what a +bird-place was. + +"Well, did he sell them?" + +"I don't think he ever sold any. He gave a great many away, though." + +When Rosie went home, Maida walked as far as her gate with her. + +"Want to know a secret, Maida?" Rosie asked suddenly, her eyes +dancing with mischief. + +"Oh, yes. I love secrets." + +"Cross your throat then." + +Maida did not know how to cross her throat but Rosie taught her. + +"Well, then," Rosie whispered, "my mother doesn't know that I went +to your house. She sent me to bed for being naughty. And I got up +and dressed and climbed out my window on to the shed without anybody +knowing it. She'll never know the difference." + +"Oh, Rosie," Maida said in a horrified tone, "Please never do it +again." In spite of herself, Maida's eyes twinkled. + +But Rosie only laughed. Maida watched her steal into her yard, +watched her climb over the shed, watched her disappear through the +window. + +But she grieved over the matter as she walked home. Perhaps it was +because she was thinking so deeply that she did not notice how quiet +they all were in the living-room. But as she crossed the threshold, +a pair of arms seized her and swung her into the air. + +"Oh, papa, papa," she whispered, cuddling her face against his, "how +glad I am to see you." + +He marched with her over to the light. + +"Well, little shop-keeper," he said after a long pause in which he +studied her keenly, "you're beginning to look like a real live +girl." He dropped her gently to her feet. "Now show me your shop." + + + + + + CHAPTER V: PRIMROSE COURT + + +But during that first two weeks a continual rush of business made +long days for Maida. All the children in the neighborhood were +curious to see the place. It had been dark and dingy as long as they +could remember. Now it was always bright and pretty--always sweet +with the perfume of flowers, always gay with the music of birds. But +more, the children wanted to see the lame little girl who "tended +store," who seemed to try so hard to please her customers and who +was so affectionate and respectful with the old, old lady whom she +called "Granny." + +At noon and night the bell sounded a continuous tinkle. + +For a week Maida kept rather close to the shop. She wanted to get +acquainted with all her customers. Moreover, she wanted to find out +which of the things she had bought sold quickly and which were +unpopular. + +After a day or two her life fell into a regular programme. + +Early in the morning she would put the shop to rights for the day's +sale, dusting, replacing the things she had sold, rearranging them +often according to some pretty new scheme. + +About eight o'clock the bell would call her into the shop and it +would be brisk work until nine. Then would come a rest of three +hours, broken only by an occasional customer. In this interval she +often worked in the yard, raking up the leaves that fell from vine +and bush, picking the bravely-blooming dahlias, gathering sprays of +woodbine for the vases, scattering crumbs to the birds. + +At twelve the children would begin to flood the shop again and Maida +would be on her feet constantly until two. Between two and four came +another long rest. After school trade started up again. Often it +lasted until six, when she locked the door for the night. + +In her leisure moments she used to watch the people coming and going +in Primrose Court. With Rosie's and Dicky's help, she soon knew +everybody by name. She discovered by degrees that on the right side +of the court lived the Hales, the Clarks, the Doyles and the Dores; +on the left side, the Duncans, the Brines and the Allisons. In the +big house at the back lived the Lathrops. + +Betsy was a great delight to Maida, for the neighborhood brimmed +with stories of her mischief. She had buried her best doll in the +ash-barrel, thrown her mother's pocketbook down the cesspool, put +all the clean laundry into a tub of water and painted the parlor +fireplace with tomato catsup. In a single afternoon, having become +secretly possessed of a pair of scissors, she cut all the fringe off +the parlor furniture, cut great scallops in the parlor curtains, cut +great patches of fur off the cat's back. When her mother found her, +she was busy cutting her own hair. + +Often Granny would hear the door slam on Maida's hurried rush from +the shop. Hobbling to the window, she would see the child leading +Betsy by the hand. "Running away again," was all Maida would say. +Occasionally Maida would call in a vexed tone, "Now _how_ did she +creep past the window without my seeing her?" And outside would be +rosy-cheeked, brass-buttoned Mr. Flanagan, carrying Betsy home. Once +Billy arrived at the shop, bearing Betsy in his arms. "She was +almost to the bridge," he said, "when I caught sight of her from the +car window. The little tramp!" + +Betsy never seemed to mind being caught. For an instant the little +rosebud that was her mouth would part over the tiny pearls that were +her teeth. This roguish smile seemed to say: "You wait until the +next time. You won't catch me then." + +Sometimes Betsy would come into the shop for an hour's play. Maida +loved to have her there but it was like entertaining a whirlwind. +Betsy had a strong curiosity to see what the drawers and boxes +contained. Everything had to be put back in its place when she left. + +Next to the Hales lived the Clarks. By the end of the first week +Maida was the chief adoration of the Clark twins. Dorothy and Mabel +were just as good as Betsy was naughty. When they came over to see +Maida, they played quietly with whatever she chose to give them. It +was an hour, ordinarily, before they could be made to talk above a +whisper. If they saw Maida coming into the court, they would run to +her side, slipping a hot little hand into each of hers. Attended +always by this roly-poly bodyguard, Maida would limp from group to +group of the playing children. Nobody in Primrose Court could tell +the Clark twins apart. Maida soon learned the difference although +she could never explain it to anybody else. "It's something you have +to feel," she said. + +Billy Potter enjoyed the twins as much as Maida did. "Good morning, +Dorothy-Mabel," he always said when he met one of them; "is this you +or your sister?" And he always answered their whispered remarks with +whispers so much softer than theirs that he finally succeeded in +forcing them to raise their shy little voices. + +The Doyles and the Dores lived in one house next to the Clarks, +Molly and Tim on the first floor, Dicky and Delia above. Maida +became very fond of the Doyle children. Like Betsy, they were too +young to go to school and she saw a good deal of them in the lonely +school hours. The puddle was an endless source of amusement to them. +As long as it remained, they entertained themselves playing along +its shores. + +"There's that choild in the water again," Granny would cry from the +living-room. + +Looking out, Maida would see Tim spread out on all fours. Like an +obstinate little pig, he would lie still until Molly picked him up. +She would take him home and in a few moments he would reappear in +fresh, clean clothes again. + +"Hello, Tim," Billy Potter would say whenever they met. "Fallen into +a pud-muddle lately?" + +The word _pud-muddle_ always sent Tim off into peals of laughter. It +was the only thing Maida had discovered that could make him laugh, +for he was as serious as Molly was merry. Molly certainly was the +jolliest little girl in the court--Maida had never seen her with +anything but a smiling face. + +Dicky's mother went to work so early and came back so late that +Maida had never seen her. But Dicky soon became an intimate. Maida +had begun the reading lessons and Dicky was so eager to get on that +they were progressing famously. + +The Lathrops lived in the big house at the back of the court. Granny +learned from the Misses Allison that, formerly, the whole +neighborhood had belonged to the Lathrop family. But they had sold +all their land, piece by piece, except the one big lot on which the +house stood. Perhaps it was because they had once been so important +that Mrs. Lathrop seemed to feel herself a little better than the +rest of the people in Primrose Court. At any rate, although she +spoke with all, the Misses Allison were the only ones on whom she +condescended to call. Maida caught a glimpse of her occasionally on +the piazza--a tall, thin woman, white-haired and sharp-featured, who +always wore a worsted shawl. + +The house was a big, bulky building, a mass of piazzas and +bay-windows, with a hexagonal cupola on the top. It was painted white +with green blinds and trimmed with a great deal of wooden lace. The +wide lawn was well-kept and plots of flowers, here and there, gave +it a gay air. + +Laura had a brother named Harold, who was short and fat. Harold +seemed to do nothing all day long but ride a wheel at a tearing pace +over the asphalt paths, and regularly, for two hours every morning, +to draw a shrieking bow across a tortured violin. + +The more Maida watched Laura the less she liked her. She could see +that what Rosie said was perfectly true--Laura put on airs. Every +afternoon Laura played on the lawn. Her appearance was the signal +for all the small fry of the neighborhood to gather about the gate. +First would come the Doyles, then Betsy, then, one by one, the +strange children who wandered into the court, until there would be a +row of wistful little faces stuck between the bars of the fence. +They would follow every move that Laura made as she played with the +toys spread in profusion upon the grass. + +Laura often pretended not to see them. She would lift her large +family of dolls, one after another, from cradle to bed and from bed +to tiny chair and sofa. She would parade up and down the walk, using +first one doll-carriage, then the other. She would even play a game +of croquet against herself. Occasionally she would call in a +condescending tone, "You may come in for awhile if you wish, little +children." And when the delighted little throng had scampered to her +side, she would show them all her toy treasures on condition that +they did not touch them. + +When the proceedings reached this stage, Maida would be so angry +that she could look no longer. Very often, after Laura had sent the +children away, Maida would call them into the shop. She would let +them play all the rest of the afternoon with anything her stock +afforded. + +On the right side of the court lived Arthur Duncan, the Misses +Allison and Rosie Brine. The more Maida saw of Arthur, the more she +disliked him. In fact, she hated to have him come into the shop. It +seemed to her that he went out of his way to be impolite to her, +that he looked at her with a decided expression of contempt in his +big dark eyes. But Rosie and Dicky seemed very fond of him. Billy +Potter had once told her that one good way of judging people was by +the friends they made. If that were true, she had to acknowledge +that there must be something fine about Arthur that she had not +discovered. + +Maida guessed that the W.M.N.T.'s met three or four times a week. +Certainly there were very busy doings at Dicky's or at Arthur's +house every other day. What it was all about, Maida did not know. +But she fancied that it had much to do with Dicky's frequent +purchases of colored tissue paper. + +The Misses Allison had become great friends with Granny. Matilda, +the blind sister, was very slender and sweet-faced. She sat all day +in the window, crocheting the beautiful, fleecy shawls by which she +helped support the household. + +Jemima, the older, short, fat and with snapping black eyes, did the +housework, attended to the parrot and waited by inches on her +afflicted sister. Occasionally in the evening they would come to +call on Granny. Billy Potter was very nice to them both. He was +always telling the sisters the long amusing stories of his +adventures. Miss Matilda's gentle face used positively to beam at +these times, and Miss Jemima laughed so hard that, according to her +own story, his talk put her "in stitches." + +Maida did not see Rosie's mother often. To tell the truth, she was a +little afraid of her. She was a tall, handsome, black-browed woman--a +grown-up Rosie--with an appearance of great strength and of even +greater temper. "Ah, that choild's the limb," Granny would say, when +Maida brought her some new tale of Rosie's disobedience. And yet, in +the curious way in which Maida divined things that were not told +her, she knew that, next to Dicky, Rosie was Granny's favorite of +all the children in the neighborhood. + +With all these little people to act upon its stage, it is not +surprising that Primrose Court seemed to Maida to be a little +theater of fun--a stage to which her window was the royal box. +Something was going on there from morning to night. Here would be a +little group of little girls playing "house" with numerous families +of dolls. There, it would be boys, gathered in an excited ring, +playing marbles or top. Just before school, games like leap-frog, or +tag or prisoners' base would prevail. But, later, when there was +more time, hoist-the-sail would fill the air with its strange cries, +or hide-and-seek would make the place boil with excitement. Maida +used to watch these games wistfully, for Granny had decided that +they were all too rough for her. She would not even let Maida play +"London-Bridge-is-falling-down" or "drop the handkerchief"--anything, +in fact, in which she would have to run or pull. + +But Granny had no objections to the gentler fun of "Miss +Jennie-I-Jones," "ring-a-ring-a-rounder," "water, water wildflower," +"the farmer in the dell," "go in and out the windows." Maida used to +try to pick out the airs of these games on the spinet--she never could +decide which was the sweetest. + +Maida soon learned how to play jackstones and, at the end of the +second week, she was almost as proficient as Rosie with the top. The +thing she most wanted to learn, however, was jump-rope. Every little +girl in Primrose Court could jump-rope--even the twins, who were +especially nimble at "pepper." Maida tried it one night--all alone in +the shop. But suddenly her weak leg gave way under her and she fell +to the floor. Granny, rushing in from the other room, scolded her +violently. She ended by forbidding her to jump again without special +permission. But Maida made up her mind that she was going to learn +sometime, even, as she said with a roguish smile, "if it took a +leg." She talked it over with Rosie. + +"You let her jump just one jump every morning and night, Granny," +Rosie advised, "and I'm sure it will be all right. That won't hurt +her any and, after awhile, she'll find she can jump two, then three +and so on. That's the way I learned." + +Granny agreed to this. Maida practiced constantly, one jump in her +nightgown, just before going to bed, and another, all dressed, just +after she got up. + +"I jumped three jumps this morning without failing, Granny," she +said one morning at breakfast. Within a few days the record climbed +to five, then to seven, then, at a leap, to ten. + +Dr. Pierce called early one morning. His eyes opened wide when they +fell upon her. "Well, well, Pinkwink," he said. "What do you mean by +bringing me way over here! I thought you were supposed to be a sick +young person. Where'd you get that color?" + +A flush like that of a pink sweet-pea blossom had begun to show in +Maida's cheek. It was faint but it was permanent. + +"Why, you're the worst fraud on my list. If you keep on like this, +young woman, I shan't have any excuse for calling. You've done fine, +Granny." + +Granny looked, as Dr. Pierce afterwards said, "as tickled as Punch." + +"How do you like shop-keeping?" Dr. Pierce went on. + +"Like it!" Maida plunged into praise so swift and enthusiastic that +Dr. Pierce told her to go more slowly or he would put a bit in her +mouth. But he listened attentively. "Well, I see you're not tired of +it," he commented. + +"Tired!" Maida's indignation was so intense that Dr. Pierce shook +until every curl bobbed. + +"And I get so hungry," she went on. "You see I have to wait until +two o'clock sometimes before I can get my lunch, because from twelve +to two are my busy hours. Those days it seems as if the school bell +would never ring." + +"Sure, tis a foine little pig OI'm growing now," Granny said. + +"And as for sleeping--" Maida stopped as if there were no words +anywhere to describe her condition. + +Granny finished it for her. "The choild sleeps like a top." + +Billy Potter came at least every day and sometimes oftener. Every +child in Primrose Court knew him by the end of the first week and +every child loved him by the end of the second. And they all called +him Billy. He would not let them call him Mr. Potter or even Uncle +Billy because, he said, he was a child when he was with them and he +wanted to be treated like a child. He played all their games with a +skill that they thought no mere grown-up could possess. Like Rosie, +he seemed to be bubbling over with life and spirits. He was always +running, leaping, jumping, climbing, turning cartwheels and +somersaults, vaulting fences and "chinning" himself unexpectedly +whenever he came to a doorway. + +"Oh, Masther Billy, 'tis the choild that you are!" Granny would say, +twinkling. + +"Yes, ma'am," Billy would answer. + +At the end of the first fortnight, the neighborhood had accepted +Granny and Maida as the mother-in-law and daughter of a "traveling +man." From the beginning Granny had seemed one of them, but Maida +was a puzzle. The children could not understand how a little girl +could be grown-up and babyish at the same time. And if you stop to +think it over, perhaps you can understand how they felt. + +Here was a child who had never played, +"London-Bridge-is-falling-down" or jackstones or jump-rope or +hop-scotch. Yet she talked familiarly of automobiles, yachts and horses. +She knew nothing about geography and yet, her conversation was full of +such phrases as "The spring we were in Paris" or "The winter we spent +in Rome." She knew nothing about nouns and verbs but she talked Italian +fluently with the hand-organ man who came every week and many of her books +were in French. She knew nothing about fractions or decimals, yet she +referred familiarly to "drawing checks," to gold eagles and to Wall +Street. Her writing was so bad that the children made fun of it, yet +she could spin off a letter of eight pages in a flash. And she told +the most wonderful fairy-tales that had ever been heard in Primrose +Court. + +Because of all these things the children had a kind of contempt for +her mingled with a curious awe. + +She was so polite with grown people that it was fairly embarrassing. +She always arose from her chair when they entered the room, always +picked up the things they dropped and never interrupted. And yet she +could carry on a long conversation with them. She never said, "Yes, +ma'am," or "No, ma'am." Instead, she said, "Yes, Mrs. Brine," or +"No, Miss Allison," and she looked whomever she was talking with +straight in the eye. + +She would play with the little children as willingly as with the +bigger ones. Often when the older girls and boys were in school, she +would bring out a lapful of toys and spend the whole morning with +the little ones. When Granny called her, she would give all the toys +away, dividing them with a careful justice. And, yet, whenever +children bought things of her in the shop, she always expected them +to pay the whole price. You can see how the neighborhood would +fairly buzz with talk about her. + +As for Maida--with all this newness of friend-making and out-of-doors +games, it is not to be wondered that her head was a jumble at the +end of each day. In that delicious, dozy interval before she fell +asleep at night, all kinds of pretty pictures seemed to paint +themselves on her eyelids. + +Now it was Rose-Red swaying like a great overgrown scarlet flower +from the bars of a lamp-post. Now it was Dicky hoisting himself +along on his crutches, his face alight with his radiant smile. Now +it was a line of laughing, rosy-cheeked children, as long as the +tail of a kite, pelting to goal at the magic cry "Liberty poles are +bending!" Or it was a group of little girls, setting out rows and +rows of bright-colored paper-dolls among the shadows of one of the +deep old doorways. But always in a few moments came the sweetest +kind of sleep. And always through her dreams flowed the plaintive +music of "Go in and out the windows." Often she seemed to wake in +the morning to the Clarion cry, "Hoist the sail!" + +It did not seem to Maida that the days were long enough to do all +the things she wanted to do. + + + + + + CHAPTER VI: TWO CALLS + + +One morning, Laura Lathrop came bustling importantly into the shop. +"Good morning, Maida," she said; "you may come over to my house this +afternoon and play with me if you'd like." + +"Thank you, Laura," Maida answered. To anybody else, she would have +added, "I shall be delighted to come." But to Laura, she only said, +"It is kind of you to ask me." + +"From about two until four," Laura went on in her most superior +tone. "I suppose you can't get off for much longer than that." + +"Granny is always willing to wait on customers if I want to play," +Maida explained, "but I think she would not want me to stay longer +than that, anyway." + +"Very well, then. Shall we say at two?" Laura said this with a very +grown-up air. Maida knew that she was imitating her mother. + +Laura had scarcely left when Dicky appeared, swinging between his +crutches. "Maida," he said, "I want you to come over to-morrow +afternoon and see my place. You've not seen Delia yet and there's a +whole lot of things I want to show you. I'm going to clean house +to-day so's I'll be all ready for you to-morrow." + +"Oh, thank you," Maida said. The sparkle that always meant delight +came into her face. "I shall be delighted. I've always wanted to go +over and see you ever since I first knew you. But Granny said to +wait until you invited me. And I really have never seen Delia except +when Rosie's had her in the carriage. And then she's always been +asleep." + +"You have to see Delia in the house to know what a naughty baby she +is," Dicky said. He spoke as if that were the finest tribute that he +could pay his little sister. + +"Granny," Maida said that noon at lunch, "Laura Lathrop came here +and invited me to come to see her this afternoon and I just hate the +thought of going--I don't know why. Then Dicky came and invited me to +come and see him to-morrow afternoon and I just love the thought of +going. Isn't it strange?" + +"Very," Granny said, smiling. "But you be sure to be a noice choild +this afternoon, no matter what that wan says to you." + +Granny always referred to Laura as "that wan." + +"Oh, yes, I'll be good, Granny. Isn't it funny," Maida went on. The +tone of her voice showed that she was thinking hard. "Laura makes me +mad--oh, just hopping mad,"--"hopping mad" was one of Rosie's +expressions--"and yet it seems to me I'd die before I'd let her know +it." + +Laura was waiting for her on the piazza when Maida presented herself +at the Lathrop door. "Won't you come in and take your things off, +first?" she said. "I thought we'd play in the house for awhile." + +She took Maida immediately upstairs to her bedroom--a large room all +furnished in blue--blue paper, blue bureau scarf covered with lace, +blue bed-spread covered with lace, a big, round, blue roller where +the pillows should be. + +"How do you like my room, Maida?" + +"It's very pretty." + +"This is my toilet-set." Laura pointed to the glittering articles on +the bureau. "Papa's given them to me, one piece at a time. It's all +of silver and every thing has my initials on it. What is your set +of?" + +Laura paused before she asked this last question and darted one of +her sideways looks at Maida. "She thinks I haven't any toilet-set +and she wants to make me say so," Maida thought. "Ivory," she said +aloud. + +"Ivory! I shouldn't think that would be very pretty." + +Laura opened her bureau drawers, one at a time, and showed Maida the +pretty clothes packed in neat piles there. She opened the large +closet and displayed elaborately-made frocks, suspended on hangers. +And all the time, with little sharp, sideways glances, she was +studying the effect on Maida. But Maida's face betrayed none of the +wonder and envy that Laura evidently expected. Maida was very polite +but it was evident that she was not much interested. + +Next they went upstairs to a big playroom which covered the whole +top of the house. Shelves covered with books and toys lined the +walls. A fire, burning in the big fireplace, made it very cheerful. + +"Oh, what a darling doll-house," Maida exclaimed, pausing before the +miniature mansion, very elegantly furnished. + +"Oh, do you like it?" Laura beamed with pride. + +"I just love it! Particularly because it's so little." + +"Little!" Laura bristled. "I don't think it's so very little. It's +the biggest doll-house I ever saw. Did you ever see a bigger one?" + +Maida looked embarrassed. "Only one." + +"Whose was it?" + +"It was the one my father had built for me at Pride's. It was too +big to be a doll's house. It was really a small cottage. There were +four rooms--two upstairs and two downstairs and a staircase that you +could really walk up. But I don't like it half so well as this one," +Maida went on truthfully. "I think it's very queer but, somehow, the +smaller things are the better I like them. I guess it's because I've +seen so many big things." + +Laura looked impressed and puzzled at the same time. "And you really +could walk up the stairs? Let's go up in the cupola," she suggested, +after an uncertain interval in which she seemed to think of nothing +else to show. + +The stairs at the end of the playroom led into the cupola. Maida +exclaimed with delight over the view which she saw from the windows. +On one side was the river with the draw-bridge, the Navy Yard and +the monument on Bunker Hill. On the other stretched the smoky +expanse of Boston with the golden dome of the state house gleaming +in the midst of a huge, red-brick huddle. + +"Did you have a cupola at Pride's Crossing?" Laura asked +triumphantly. + +"Oh, no--how I wish I had!" + +Laura beamed again. + +"Laura likes to have things other people haven't," Maida thought. + +Her hostess now conducted her back over the two flights of stairs to +the lower floor. They went into the dining-room, which was all +shining oak and glittering cut-glass; into the parlor, which was +filled with gold furniture, puffily upholstered in blue brocade; +into the libraries, which Maida liked best of all, because there +were so many books and-- + +"Oh, oh, oh!" she exclaimed, stopping before one of the pictures; +"that's Santa Maria in Cosmedin. I haven't seen that since I left +Rome." + +"How long did you stay in Rome, little girl?" a voice asked back of +her. Maida turned. Mrs. Lathrop had come into the room. + +Maida arose immediately from her chair. "We stayed in Rome two +months," she said. + +"Indeed. And where else did you go?" + +"London, Paris, Florence and Venice." + +"Do you know these other pictures?" Mrs. Lathrop asked. "I've been +collecting photographs of Italian churches." + +Maida went about identifying the places with little cries of joy. +"Ara Coeli--I saw in there the little wooden bambino who cures sick +people. It's so covered with bracelets and rings and lockets and +pins and chains that grateful people have given it that it looks as +if it were dressed in jewels. The bambino's such a darling little +thing with such a sweet look in its face. That's St. Agnes outside +the wall--I saw two dear little baby lambs blessed on the altar there +on St. Agnes's day. One was all covered with red garlands and the +other with green. Oh, they were such sweethearts! They were going to +use the fleece to make some garment for the pope. That's Santa Maria +della Salute--they call it Santa Maria della _Volute_ instead of +_Salute_ because it's all covered with volutes." Maida smiled +sunnily into Mrs. Lathrop's face as if expecting sympathy with this +architectural joke. + +But Mrs. Lathrop did not smile. She looked a little staggered. She +studied Maida for a long time out of her shrewd, light eyes. + +"Whose family did you travel with?" she asked at last. + +Maida felt a little embarrassed. If Mrs. Lathrop asked her certain +questions, it would place her in a very uncomfortable position. On +the one hand, Maida could not tell a lie. On the other, her father +had told her to tell nobody that she was his daughter. + +"The family of Mr. Jerome Westabrook," she said at last. + +"Oh!" It was the "oh" of a person who is much impressed. "'Buffalo' +Westabrook?" Mrs. Lathrop asked. + +"Yes." + +"Did your grandmother, Mrs. Flynn, go with you?" + +"Yes." + +Mrs. Lathrop continued to look very hard at Maida. Her eyes wandered +over the little blue frock--simple but of the best materials--over the +white "tire" of a delicate plaided nainsook, trimmed with +Valenciennes lace, the string of blue Venetian beads, the soft, +carefully-fitted shoes. + +"Mr. Westabrook has a little girl, hasn't he?" Mrs. Lathrop said. + +Maida felt extremely uncomfortable now. But she looked Mrs. Lathrop +straight in the eye. "Yes," she answered. + +"About your age?" + +"Yes." + +"She is an invalid, isn't she?" + +"She _was_," Maida said with emphasis. + +Mrs. Lathrop did not ask any more questions. She went presently into +the back library. An old gentleman sat there, reading. + +"That little girl who keeps the store at the corner is in there, +playing with Laura, father," she said. "I guess her grandmother was +a servant in 'Buffalo' Westabrook's family, for they traveled abroad +a year with the Westabrook family. Evidently, they give her all the +little Westabrook girl's clothes--she's dressed quite out of keeping +with her station in life. Curious how refinement rubs off--the child +has really a good deal of manner. I don't know that I quite like to +have Laura playing with her, though." + +The two little girls returned after awhile to the playroom. + +"How would you like to have me dance for you?" Laura asked abruptly. +"You know I take fancy dancing." + +"Oh, Laura," Maida said delightedly "will you?" + +"Of course I will," Laura said with her most beaming expression. +"You wait here while I go downstairs and get into my costume. Watch +that door, for I shall make my entrance there." + +Maida waited what seemed a long time to her. Then suddenly Laura +came whirling into the room. She had put on a little frock of +pale-blue liberty silk that lay, skirt, bodice and tiny sleeves, in +many little pleats--"accordion-pleated," Laura afterwards described it. +Laura's neck and arms were bare. She wore blue silk stockings and +little blue-kid slippers, heelless and tied across the ankles with +ribbons. Her hair hung in a crimpy torrent to below her waist. + +"Oh, Laura, how lovely you do look!" Maida said, "I think you're +perfectly beautiful!" + +Laura smiled. Lifting both arms above her head, she floated about +the room, dancing on the very tips of her toes. Turning and smiling +over her shoulder, she bent and swayed and attitudinized. Maida +could have watched her forever. + +In a few moments she disappeared again. This time she came back in a +red-silk frock with a little bolero jacket of black velvet, hung +with many tinkling coins. Whenever her fingers moved, a little +pretty clapping sound came from them--Maida discovered that she +carried tiny wooden clappers. Whenever her heels came together, a +pretty musical clink came from them--Maida discovered that on her +shoes were tiny metal plates. + +Once again Laura went out. This time, she returned dressed like a +little sailor boy. She danced a gay little hornpipe. + +"I never saw anything so marvelous in my life," Maida said, her eyes +shining with enjoyment. "Oh, Laura how I wish I could dance like +that. How did you ever learn? Do you practice all the time?" + +"Oh, it's not so very hard--for me," Laura returned. "Of course, +everybody couldn't learn. And I suppose you, being lame, could never +do anything at all." + +This was the first allusion that had been made in Primrose Court to +Maida's lameness. Her face shadowed a little. "No, I'm afraid I +couldn't," she said regretfully. "But--oh--think what a lovely dancer +Rosie would make." + +"I'm afraid Rosie's too rough," Laura said. She unfolded a little +fan and began fanning herself languidly. "It's a great bother +sometimes," she went on in a bored tone of voice. "Everybody is +always asking me to dance at their parties. I danced at a beautiful +May party last year. Did you ever see a May-pole?" + +"Oh, yes," Maida said. "My birthday comes on May Day and last year +father gave me a party. He had a May-pole set up on the lawn and all +the children danced about it." + +"My birthday comes in the summer, too. I always have a party on our +place in Marblehead," Laura said. "I had fifty children at my party +last year. How many did you have?" + +"We sent out over five hundred invitations, I believe. But not quite +four hundred accepted." + +"Four hundred," Laura repeated. "Goodness, what could so many +children do?" + +"Oh, there were all sorts of things for them to do," Maida answered. +"There was archery and diabolo and croquet and fishing-ponds and a +merry-go-round and Punch and Judy on the lawn and a play in my +little theater--I can't remember everything." + +Laura's eyes had grown very big. "Didn't you have a perfectly +splendiferous time?" she asked. + +"No, not particularly," Maida said. "Not half such a good time as +I've had playing in Primrose Court. I wasn't very well and then, +somehow, I didn't care for those children the way I care for Dicky +and Rosie and the court children." + +"Goodness!" was all Laura could say for a moment. But finally she +added, "I don't believe that, Maida!" + +Maida stared at her and started to speak. "Oh, there's the clock +striking four?" was all she said though. "I must go. Thank you for +dancing for me." + +She flew into her coat and hat. She could not seem to get away quick +enough. Nobody had ever doubted her word before. She could not +exactly explain it to herself but she felt if she talked with Laura +another moment, she would fly out of her skin. + + ---------------------- + +"Mother," Laura said, after Maida had gone, "Maida Flynn told me +that her father gave her a birthday party last year and invited five +hundred children to it and they had a theater and a Punch and Judy +show and all sorts of things. Do you think it's true?" + +Mrs. Lathrop set her lips firmly. "No, I think it is probably not +true. I think you'd better not play with the little Flynn girl any +more." + + ---------------------- + +The next afternoon, Maida went, as she had promised, to see Dicky. + +She could see at a glance that Mrs. Dore was having a hard struggle +to support her little family. In the size and comfort of its +furnishings, the place was the exact opposite of the Lathrop home. +But, somehow, there was a wonderful feeling of home there. + +"Dicky, how do you manage to keep so clean here?" Maida asked in +genuine wonder. + +And indeed, hard work showed everywhere. The oilcloth shone like +glass. The stove was as clean as a newly-polished shoe. The rows of +pans on the wall fairly twinkled. Delicious smells were filling the +air. Maida guessed that Dicky was making one of the Irish stews that +were his specialty. + +"See that little truck over there?" Dicky said. "That helps a lot. +Arthur Duncan made that for me. You see we have to keep our coal in +that closet, way across the room. I used to get awful tired filling +the coal-hod and lugging it over to the stove. But now you see I +fill that truck at the closet, wheel it over to the stove and I +don't have to think of coal for three days." + +"Arthur must be a very clever boy," Maida said thoughtfully. + +"You bet he is. See that tin can in the sink? Well, I wanted a +soap-shaker but couldn't afford to get one. Arthur took that can and +punched the bottom full of holes. I keep it filled up with all the +odds and ends of soap. When I wash the dishes, I just let the +boiling water from the kettle flow through it. It makes water grand +and soapy. Arthur made me that iron dish-rag and that dish-mop." + +A sleepy cry came from the corner. Dicky swung across the room. +Balancing himself against the cradle there, he lifted the baby to +the floor. "She can't walk yet but you watch her go," he said +proudly. + +Go! The baby crept across the room so fast that Maida had to run to +keep up with her. "Oh, the love!" she said, taking Delia into her +arms. "Think of having a whole baby to yourself." + +"Can't leave a thing round where she is," Dicky said proudly, as if +this were the best thing he could say about her. "Have to put _my_ +work away the moment she wakes up. Isn't she a buster, though?" + +"I should say she was!" And indeed, the baby was as fat as a little +partridge. Maida wondered how Dicky could lift her. Also Delia was +as healthy-looking as Dicky was sickly. Her cheeks showed a pink +that was almost purple and her head looked like a mop, so thickly +was it overgrown with tangled, red-gold curls. + +"Is she named after your mother?" Maida asked. + +"No--after my grandmother in Ireland. But of course we don't call her +anything but 'baby' yet. My, but she's a case! If I didn't watch her +all the time, every pan in this room would be on the floor in a +jiffy. And she tears everything she puts her hands on." + +"Granny must see her sometime--Granny's name is Delia." + +"Hi, stop that!" Dicky called. For Delia had discovered the little +bundle that Maida had placed on a chair, and was busy trying to tear +it open. + +"Let her open it," Maida said, "I brought it for her." + +They watched. + +It took a long time, but Delia sat down, giving her whole attention +to it. Finally her busy fingers pulled off so much paper that a pair +of tiny rubber dolls dropped into her lap. + +"Say 'Thank you, Maida,'" Dicky prompted. + +Delia said something and Dicky assured her that the baby had obeyed +him. It sounded like, "Sank-oo-Maysa." + +While Delia occupied herself with the dolls, Maida listened to +Dicky's reading lesson. He was getting on beautifully now. At least +he could puzzle out by himself some of the stories that Maida lent +him. When they had finished that day's fairy-tale, Dicky said: + +"Did you ever see a peacock, Maida?" + +"Oh, yes--a great many." + +"Where?" + +"I saw ever so many in the Jardin des Plantes in Paris and then my +father has some in his camp in the Adirondacks." + +"Has he many?" + +"A dozen." + +"I'm just wild to see one. Are they as beautiful as that picture in +the fairy-tale?" + +"They're as beautiful as--as--" Maida groped about in her mind to find +something to compare them to "--as angels," she said at last. + +"And do they really open their tails like a fan?" + +"That is the most wonderful sight, Dicky, that you ever saw." +Maida's manner was almost solemn. "When they unfurl the whole fan +and the sun shines on all the green and blue eyes and on all the +little gold feathers, it's so beautiful. Well, it makes you ache. I +_cried_ the first time I saw one. And when their fans are down, they +carry them so daintily, straight out, not a single feather trailing +on the ground. There are two white peacocks on the Adirondacks +place." + +"_White_ peacocks! I never heard of white ones." + +"They're not common." + +"Think of seeing a dozen peacocks every day!" Dicky exclaimed. +"Jiminy crickets! Why, Maida, your life must have been just like a +fairy-tale when you lived there." + +"It seems more like a fairy-tale here." + +They laughed at this difference of opinion. + +"Dicky," Maida asked suddenly, "do you know that Rosie steals out of +her window at night sometimes when her mother doesn't know it?" + +"Sure--I know that. You see," he went on to explain, "it's like this. +Rosie is an awful bad girl in some ways--there's no doubt about that. +But my mother says Rosie isn't as bad as she seems. My mother says +Rosie's mother has never learned how to manage her. She whips Rosie +an awful lot. And the more she whips Rosie, the naughtier she gets. +Rosie says she's going to run away some day, and by George, I bet +she'll do it. She always does what she says she'll do." + +"Isn't it dreadful?" Maida said in a frightened tone. "Run away! I +never heard of such a thing. Think of having a mother and then not +getting along with her. Suppose she died sometime, as my mother +did." + +"I don't know what I'd do without my mother," Dicky said +thoughtfully. "But then I've got the best mother that ever was. I +wish she didn't have to work so hard. But you wait until I get on my +feet. Then you'll see how I'm going to earn money for her." + +When Maida got home that night, Billy Potter sat with Granny in the +living-room. Maida came in so quietly that they took no notice of +her. Granny was talking. Maida could see that the tears were +coursing down the wrinkles in her cheeks. + +"And after that, the poor choild ran away to America and I niver +have seen her since. Her father died repenting av his anger aginst +her. But ut was too late. At last, in me old age, Oi came over to +America, hoping Oi cud foind her. But, glory be, Oi had no idea +'twas such a big place! And Oi've hunted and Oi've hunted and Oi've +hunted. But niver a track of her cud Oi foind--me little Annie!" + +Billy's face was all screwed up, but it was not with laughter. "Did +you ever speak to Mr. Westabrook about it?" + +"Oh, Misther Westabruk done iv'ry t'ing he cud--the foine man that he +is. Adver_tise_ments and _de_tayktives, but wid all his money, he +cudn't foind out a t'ing. If ut wasn't for my blissed lamb, I'd pray +to the saints to let me die." + +Maida knew what they were talking about--Granny had often told her +the sad story of her lost daughter. + +"What town in Ireland did you live in, Granny?" Billy asked. + +"Aldigarey, County Sligo." "Now don't you get discouraged, Granny," +Billy said, "I'm going to find your daughter for you." + +He jumped to his feet and walked about the room. "I'm something of a +detective myself, and you'll see I'll make good on this job if it +takes twenty years." + +"Oh, Billy, do--please do," Maida burst in. "It will make Granny so +happy." + +Granny seemed happier already. She dried her tears. + +"'Tis the good b'y ye are, Misther Billy," she said gratefully. + +"Yes, m'm," said Billy. + + + + + + CHAPTER VII: TROUBLE + + +The next week was a week of trouble for Maida. Everything seemed to +go wrong from the first tinkle of the bell, Monday morning, to the +last tinkle Saturday night. + +It began with a conversation. + +Rosie came marching in early Monday, head up, eyes flaming. + +"Maida," she began at once, in her quickest, briskest tone, "I've +got something to tell you. Laura Lathrop came over to Dicky's house +the other day while the W.M.N.T.'s were meeting and she told us the +greatest mess of stuff about you. I told her I was coming right over +and tell you about it and she said, 'All right, you can.' Laura said +that you said that last summer you had a birthday party that you +invited five hundred children to. She said that you said that you +had a May-pole at this party and a fish pond and a Punch and Judy +show and all sorts of things. She said that you said that you had a +big doll-house and a little theater all your own. I said that I +didn't believe that you told her all that. Did you?" + +"Oh, yes, I told her that--and more," Maida answered directly. + +"Laura said it was all a pack of lies, but I don't believe that. Is +it all true?" + +"It's all true," Maida said. + +Rosie looked at her hard. "You know, Maida," she went on after +awhile, "you told me about a lot of birds and animals that your +father had. I thought he kept a bird-place. But Dicky says you told +him that your father had twelve peacocks, not in a store, but in a +place where he lives." She paused and looked inquiringly at Maida. + +Maida answered the look. "Yes, I told him that." + +"And it's all true?" Rosie asked again. + +"Yes, it's all true," Maida repeated. + +Rosie hesitated a moment. "Harold Lathrop says that you're daffy." + +Maida said nothing. + +"Arthur Duncan says," Rosie went on more timidly, "that you probably +dreamed those things." + +Still Maida said nothing. + +"Do you think you did dream them, Maida?" + +Maida smiled. "No, I didn't dream them." + +"Well, I thought of another thing," Rosie went on eagerly. "Miss +Allison told mother that Granny told her that you'd been sick for a +long time. And I thought, maybe you were out of your head and +imagined those things. Oh, Maida," Rosie's voice actually coaxed her +to favor this theory, "don't you think you imagined them?" + +Maida laughed. "No, Rosie," she said in her quietest voice, "I did +not imagine them." + +For a moment neither of the two little girls spoke. But they stared, +a little defiantly, into each other's eyes. + +"What did Dicky say?" Maida asked after awhile. + +"Oh, Dicky said he would believe anything you told him, no matter +what it was. Dicky says he believes you're a princess in +disguise--like in fairy-tales." + +"Dear, dear Dicky!" Maida said. "He was the first friend I made in +Primrose Court and I guess he's the best one." + +"Well, I guess I'm your friend," Rosie said, firing up; "I told that +little smarty-cat of a Laura if she ever said one word against you, +I'd slap her good and hard. Only--only--it seems strange that a little +girl who's just like the rest of us should have story-book things +happening to her all the time. If it's true--then fairy-tales are +true." She paused and looked Maida straight in the eye. "I can't +believe it, Maida. But I know you believe it. And that's all there +is to it. But you'd better believe I'm your friend." + +Saying which she marched out. + +Maida's second trouble began that night. + +It had grown dark. Suddenly, without any warning, the door of the +shop flew open. For an instant three or four voices filled the place +with their yells. Then the door shut. Nothing was heard but the +sound of running feet. + +Granny and Maida rushed to the door. Nobody was in sight. + +"Who was it? What does it mean, Granny?" Maida asked in +bewilderment. "Only naughty b'ys, taysing you," Granny explained. + +Maida had hardly seated herself when the performance was repeated. +Again she rushed to the door. Again she saw nobody. The third time +she did not stir from her chair. + +Tuesday night the same thing happened. Who the boys were Maida could +not find out. Why they bothered her, she could not guess. + +"Take no notuce av ut, my lamb," Granny counselled. "When they foind +you pay no attintion to ut, they'll be afther stopping." + +Maida followed Granny's advice. But the annoyance did not cease and +she began to dread the twilight. She made up her mind that she must +put an end to it soon. She knew she could stop it at once by +appealing to Billy Potter. And, yet, somehow, she did not want to +ask for outside help. She had a feeling of pride about handling her +own troubles. + +One afternoon Laura came into the shop. It was the first time that +Maida had seen her since the afternoon of her call and Maida did not +speak. She felt that she could not have anything to do with Laura +after what had happened. But she looked straight at Laura and +waited. + +Laura did not speak either. She looked at Maida as if she had never +seen her before. She carried her head at its highest and she moved +across the room with her most important air. As she stood a moment +gazing at the things in the show case, she had never seemed more +patronizing. + +"A cent's worth of dulse, please," she said airily. + +"Dulse?" Maida repeated questioningly; "I guess I haven't any. What +is dulse?" + +"Haven't any dulse?" Laura repeated with an appearance of being +greatly shocked. "Do you mean to say you haven't any dulse?" + +Maida did not answer--she put her lips tight together. + +"This is a healthy shop," Laura went on in a sneering tone, "no +mollolligobs, no apple-on-the-stick, no tamarinds, no pop-corn +balls, no dulse. Why don't you sell the things we want? Half the +children in the neighborhood are going down to Main Street to get +them now." + +She bustled out of the shop. Maida stared after her with wide, +alarmed eyes. For a moment she did not stir. Then she ran into the +living-room and buried her face in Granny's lap, bursting into +tears. + +"Oh, Granny," she sobbed, "Laura Lathrop says that half the children +don't like my shop and they're going down to Main Street to buy +things. What shall I do? What shall I do?" + +"There, there, acushla," Granny said soothingly, taking the +trembling little girl on to her lap. "Don't worry about anny t'ing +that wan says. 'Tis a foine little shop you have, as all the grown +folks says." + +"But, Granny," Maida protested passionately, "I don't want to please +the grown people, I want to please the children. And papa said I +must make the store pay. And now I'm afraid I never will. Oh, what +shall I do?" + +She got no further. A tinkle of the bell, followed by pattering +footsteps, interrupted. In an instant, Rosie, brilliant in her +scarlet cape and scarlet hat, with cheeks and lips the color of +cherries, stood at her side. + +"I saw that hateful Laura come out of here," she said. "I just knew +she'd come in to make trouble. What did she say to you?" + +Maida told her slowly between her sobs. + +"Horrid little smarty-cat!" was Rosie's comment and she scowled +until her face looked like a thunder-cloud. + +"I shall never speak to her again," Maida declared fervently. "But +what shall I do about it, Rosie?--it may be true what she said." + +"Now don't you get discouraged, Maida," Rosie said. "Because I can +tell you just how to get or make those things Laura spoke of." + +"Oh, can you, Rosie. What would I do without you? I'll put +everything down in a book so that I shan't forget them." + +She limped over to the desk. There the black head bent over the +golden one. + +"What is dulse?" Maida demanded first. + +"Don't you know what dulse is?" Rosie asked incredulously. "Maida, +you are the queerest child. The commonest things you don't know +anything about. And yet I suppose if I asked you if you'd seen a +flying-machine, you'd say you had." + +"I have," Maida answered instantly, "in Paris." + +Rosie's face wrinkled into its most perplexed look. She changed the +subject at once. "Well, dulse is a purple stuff--when you see a lot +of it together, it looks as if a million toy-balloons had burst. +It's all wrinkled up and tastes salty." + +Maida thought hard for a moment. Then she burst into laughter, +although the big round tear-drops were still hanging from the tips +of her lashes. "There was a whole drawerful here when I first came. +I remember now I thought it was waste stuff and threw it all away." + +Rosie laughed too. "The tamarinds you can get from the man who comes +round with the wagon. Mrs. Murdock used to make her own +apples-on-the-stick, mollolligobs and corn-balls. I've helped her many a +time. Now I'll write you a list of stuff to order from the grocer. I'll +come round after school and we'll make a batch of all those things. +To-night you get Billy to print a sign, '_apples on the stick and +mollolligobs to-day_.' You put that in the window to-morrow morning +and by to-morrow night, you'll be all sold out." + +"Oh, Rosie," Maida said happily, "I shall be so much obliged to +you!" + +Rosie was as good as her word. She appeared that afternoon wearing a +long-sleeved apron under the scarlet cape. It seemed to Maida that +she worked like lightning, for she made batch after batch of candy, +moving as capably about the stove as an experienced cook. In the +meantime, Maida was popping corn at the fireplace. They mounted +fifty apples on skewers and dipped them, one at a time, into the +boiling candy. They made thirty corn-balls and twenty-five +mollolligobs, which turned out to be round chunks of candy, stuck on +the end of sticks. + +"I never did see such clever children anywhere as there are in +Primrose Court," Maida said that night with a sigh to Granny. "Rosie +told me that she could make six kinds of candy. And Dicky can cook +as well as his mother. They make me feel so useless. Why, Granny, I +can't do a single thing that's any good to anybody." + +The next day the shop was crowded. By night there was not an apple, +a corn-ball or a mollolligob left. + +"I shall have a sale like this once a week in the future," Maida +said. "Why, Granny, lots and lots of children came here who'd never +been in the shop before." + +And so what looked like serious trouble ended very happily. + +Trouble number three was a great deal more serious and it did not, +at first, promise to end well at all. It had to do with Arthur +Duncan. It had been going on for a week before Maida mentioned it to +anybody. But it haunted her very dreams. + +Early Monday morning, Arthur came into the shop. In his usual gruff +voice and with his usual surly manner, he said, "Show me some of +those rubbers in the window." + +Maida took out a handful of the rubbers--five, she thought--and put +them on the counter. While Arthur looked them over, she turned to +replace a paper-doll which she had knocked down. + +"Guess I won't take one to-day," Arthur said, while her back was +still turned, and walked out. + +When Maida put the rubbers back, she discovered that there were only +four. She made up her mind that she had not counted right and +thought no more of the incident. + +Two days later, Arthur Duncan came in again. Maida had just been +selling some pencils--pretty striped ones with a blue stone in the +end. Three of them were left lying out on the counter. Arthur asked +her to show him some penholders. Maida took three from the shelves +back of her. He bought one of these. After he had gone, she +discovered that there were only two pencils left on the counter. + +"One of them must have rolled off," Maida thought. But although she +looked everywhere, she could not find it. The incident of the rubber +occurred to her. She felt a little troubled but she resolved to put +both circumstances out of her mind. + +A day or two later, Arthur Duncan came in for the third time. It +happened that Granny was out marketing. + +Piled on the counter was a stack of blank-books--pretty books they +were, with a child's head in color on the cover. Arthur asked for +letter-paper. Maida turned back to the shelf. With her hand on the +sliding door, she stopped, half-stunned. + +_Reflected in the glass she saw Arthur Duncan stow one of the blank +books away in his pocket._ + +Maida felt sick all over. She did not know what to do. She did not +know what to say. + +She fumbled with trembling hands among the things on the shelf. She +dreaded to turn for fear her face would express what she had seen. + +"Perhaps he'll pay for it," she thought; "I hope he will." + +But Arthur made no offer to pay. He looked over the letter-paper +that Maida, with downcast eyes, put before him, decided that he did +not want any after all, and walked coolly from the shop. + +Granny, coming in a few moments later, was surprised to find Maida +leaning on the counter, her face buried in her hands. + +"What's the matter with my lamb?" the old lady asked cheerfully. + +"Nothing, Granny," Maida said. But she did not meet Granny's eye and +during dinner she was quiet and serious. + +That night Billy Potter called. "Well, how goes the _Bon March of_ +Charlestown?" he asked cheerfully. + +"Billy," Maida said gravely, "if you found that a little boy--I can't +say what his name is--was stealing from you, what would you do?" + +Billy considered the question as gravely as she had asked it. "Tell +the policeman on the beat and get him to throw a scare into him," he +said at last. + +"I guess that's what I'll have to do." But Maida's tone was +mournful. + +But Granny interrupted. + +"Don't you do ut, my lamb--don't you do ut!" She turned to them +both--they had never seen her blue eyes so fiery before. "Suppose you +was one av these poor little chilthren that lives round here that's +always had harrd wurruds for their meals and hunger for their +pillow, wudn't you be afther staling yersilf if ut came aisy-loike +and nobody was luking?" + +Neither Billy nor Maida spoke for a moment. + +"I guess Granny's right," Billy said finally. + +"I guess she is," Maida said with a sigh. + +It was three days before Arthur Duncan came into the shop again. But +in the meantime, Maida went one afternoon to play with Dicky. Dicky +was drawing at a table when Maida came in. She glanced at his work. +He was using a striped pencil with a blue stone in its end, a +blank-book with the picture of a little girl on the cover, a rubber of +a kind very familiar to her. Maida knew certainly that Dicky had +bought none of these things from her. She knew as certainly that +they were the things Arthur Duncan had stolen. What was the +explanation of the mystery? She went to bed that night miserably +unhappy. + +Her heart beat pit-a-pat the next time she saw Arthur open the door. +She folded her hands close together so that he should not see that +she was trembling. She began to wish that she had followed Billy's +advice. Sitting in the shop all alone--Granny, it happened again, was +out--it occurred to her that it was, perhaps, too serious a situation +for a little girl to deal with. + +She had made up her mind that when Arthur was in the shop, she would +not turn her back to him. She was determined not to give him the +chance to fall into temptation. But he asked for pencil-sharpeners +and pencil-sharpeners were kept in the lower drawer. There was +nothing for her to do but to get down on the floor. She remembered +with a sense of relief that she had left no stock out on the +counter. She knelt upright on the floor, seeking for the box. +Suddenly, reflected in the glass door, she saw another terrifying +picture. + +_Arthur Duncan's arm was just closing the money drawer._ + +For an instant Maida felt so sick at heart that she wanted to run +back into the living-room, throw herself into Granny's big chair and +cry her eyes out. Then suddenly all this weakness went. A feeling, +such as she had never known, came into its place. She was still +angry but she was singularly cool. She felt no more afraid of Arthur +Duncan than of the bowl of dahlias, blooming on the counter. + +She whirled around in a flash and looked him straight in the eye. + +"If there is anything in this shop that you want so much that you +are willing to steal, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," +she said. + +"Aw, what are you talking about?" Arthur demanded. He attempted to +out-stare her. + +But Maida kept her eyes steadily on his. "You know what I'm talking +about well enough," she said quietly. "In the last week you've +stolen a rubber and a pencil and a blank-book from me and just now +you tried to take some money from the money-drawer." + +Arthur sneered. "How are you going to prove it?" he asked +impudently. + +Maida was thoroughly angry. But something inside warned her that she +must not give way to temper. For all her life, she had been +accustomed to think before she spoke. Indeed, she herself had never +been driven or scolded. Her father had always reasoned with her. +Doctors and nurses had always reasoned with her. Even Granny had +always reasoned with her. So, now, she thought very carefully before +she spoke again. But she kept her eyes fixed on Arthur. His eyes did +not move from hers but, in some curious way, she knew that he was +uneasy. + +"I can't prove it," she said at last, "and I hadn't any idea of +trying to. I'm only warning you that you must not come in here if +you're not to be trusted. And I told you the truth when I said I +would rather give you anything in the shop than have you steal it. +For I think you must need those things very badly to be willing to +get them that way. I don't believe anybody _wants_ to steal. Now +when you want anything so bad as that, come to me and I'll see if I +can get it for you." + +Arthur stared at her as if he had not a word on his tongue. "If you +think you can frighten me,--" he said. Then, without ending his +sentence, he swaggered out of the shop. But to Maida his swagger +seemed like something put on to conceal another feeling. + +Maida suddenly felt very tired. She wished that Granny Flynn would +come back. She wanted Granny to take her into her lap, to cuddle +her, to tell her some merry little tale of the Irish fairies. But, +instead, the bell rang and another customer came in. While she was +waiting on her, Maida noticed somebody come stealthily up to the +window, look in and then duck down. She wondered if it might be +Billy playing one of his games on her. + +The customer went out. In a few moments the bell tinkled again. +Maida had been leaning against the counter, her tired head on her +outstretched arms. She looked up. It was Arthur Duncan. + +He strode straight over to her. + +"Here's three cents for your rubber," he said, "and five for your +pencil, five for the blank book and there's two dimes I took out of +the money-drawer." + +Maida did not know what to say. The tears came to her eyes and +rolled down her cheeks. Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to +the other in intense embarrassment. + +"I didn't know it would make you feel as bad as that," he said. + +"I don't feel bad," Maida sobbed--and to prove it she smiled while +the tears ran down her cheeks--"I feel glad." + +What he would have answered to this she never knew. For at that +moment the door flew open. The little rowdy boys who had been +troubling her so much lately, let out a series of blood-curdling +yells. + +"What's that?" Arthur asked. + +"I don't know who they are," Maida said wearily, "but they do that +three or four times every night. I don't know what to do about it." + +"Well, I do," Arthur said. "You wait!" + +He went over to the door and waited, flattening himself against the +wall. After a long silence, they could hear footsteps tip-toeing on +the bricks outside. The door flew open. Arthur Duncan leaped like a +cat through the opening. There came back to Maida the sound of +running, then a pause, then another sound very much as if two or +three naughty little heads were being vigorously knocked together. +She heard Arthur say: + +"Let me catch one of you doing that again and I'll lick you till you +can't stand up. And remember I'll be watching for you every night +now." + +Maida did not see him again then. But just before dinner the bell +rang. When Maida opened the door there stood Arthur. + +"I had this kitten and I thought you might like him," he said +awkwardly, holding out a little bundle of gray fluff. + +"Want it!" Maida said. She seized it eagerly. "Oh, thank you, +Arthur, ever so much. Oh, Granny, look at this darling kit-kat. What +a ball of fluff he is! I'll call him Fluff. And he isn't an Angora +or a prize kitty of any kind--just a beautiful plain everyday cat--the +kind I've always wanted!" + +Even this was not all. After dinner the shop bell rang again. This +time it was Arthur and Rosie. Rosie's lips were very tight as if she +had made up her mind to some bold deed but her flashing eyes showed +her excitement. + +"Can we see you alone for a moment, Maida?" she asked in her most +business-like tones. + +Wondering, Maida shut the door to the living-room and came back to +them. + +"Maida," Rosie began, "Arthur told me all about the rubber and the +pencil and the blank book and the dimes. Of course, I felt pretty +bad when I heard about it. But I wanted Arthur to come right over +here and explain the whole thing to you. You see Arthur took those +things to give away to Dicky because Dicky has such a hard time +getting anything he wants." + +"Yes, I saw them over at Dicky's," Maida said. + +"And then, there was a great deal more to it that Arthur's just told +me and I thought you ought to know it at once. You see Arthur's +father belongs to a club that meets once a month and Arthur goes +there a lot with him. And those men think that plenty of people have +things that they have no right to--oh, like automobiles--I mean, +things that they haven't earned. And the men in Mr. Duncan's club +say that it's perfectly right to take things away from people who +have too much and give them to people who have too little. But I say +that may be all right for grown people but when children do it, it's +just plain _stealing_. And that's all there is to it! But I wanted +you to know that Arthur thought it was right--well sort of right, you +understand--when he took those things. You don't think so now, do +you, after the talking-to I've given you?" She turned severely on +Arthur. + +Arthur shuffled and looked embarrassed. "No," he said sheepishly, +"not until you're grown up." + +"But what I wanted to say next, Maida," Rosie continued, "is, please +not to tell Dicky. He would be so surprised--and then he wouldn't +keep the things that Arthur gave him. And of course now that Arthur +has paid for them--they're all right for him to have." + +"Of course I wouldn't tell anybody," Maida said in a shocked voice, +"not even Granny or Billy--not even my father." + +"Then that's settled," Rosie said with a sigh. "Good night." + +The next day the following note reached Maida: + + + You are cordully invited to join the W.M.N.T. Club which meets + three times a week at the house of Miss Rosie Brine, or Mr. + Richard Dore or Mr. Arthur Duncan. + + P.S. The name means, WE MUST NEVER TELL. + + +Maida dreamed nothing but happy dreams that night. + + + + + + CHAPTER VIII: A RAINY DAY + + +The next day it rained dismally. Maida had been running the shop for +three weeks but this was her first experience with stormy weather. +Because she, herself, had never been allowed to set her foot +outdoors when the weather was damp, she expected that she would see +no children that day. But long before the bell rang they crowded in +wet streaming groups into the shop. And at nine the lines +disappearing into the big school doorways seemed as long as ever. + +Even the Clark twins in rubber boots, long rain-capes and a baby +umbrella came in to spend their daily pennies. + +"I guess it'll be one session, Maida," Dorothy whispered. + +"Oh goody, Dorothy!" Mabel lisped. "Don't you love one session, +Maida?" + +Maida was ashamed to confess to two such tiny girls that she did not +know what "one session" meant. But she puzzled over it the whole +morning. If Rosie and Arthur had come in she would have asked them. +But neither of them appeared. Indeed, they were not anywhere in the +lines--Maida looked very carefully. + +At twelve o'clock the school bell did not ring. In surprise, Maida +craned out of the window to consult the big church clock. It agreed +exactly with the tall grandfather's clock in the living-room. Both +pointed to twelve, then to five minutes after and ten and +fifteen--still no bell. + +A little later Dicky came swinging along, the sides of his old rusty +raincoat flapping like the wings of some great bird. + +"It's one-session, Maida," he said jubilantly, "did you hear the +bell?" + +"What's one session, Dicky?" Maida asked. + +"Why, when it's too stormy for the children to go to school in the +afternoon the fire-bells ring twenty-two at quarter to twelve. They +keep all the classes in until one o'clock though." + +"Oh, that's why they don't come out," Maida said. + +At one o'clock the umbrellas began to file out of the school door. +The street looked as if it had grown a monster crop of shiny black +toad-stools. But it was the only sign of life that the neighborhood +showed for the rest of the day. The storm was too violent for even +the big boys and girls to brave. A very long afternoon went by. Not +a customer came into the shop. Maida felt very lonely. She wandered +from shop to living-room and from living-room to chamber. She tried +to read. She sewed a little. She even popped corn for a lonesome +fifteen minutes. But it seemed as if the long dark day would never +go. + +As they were sitting down to dinner that night, Billy bounced in--his +face pink and wet, his eyes sparkling like diamonds from his +conflict with the winds. + +"Oh, Billy, how glad I am to see you," Maida said. "It's been the +lonesomest day." + +"Sure, the sight av ye's grand for sore eyes," said Granny. + +Maida had noticed that Billy's appearance always made the greatest +difference in everything. Before he came, the noise of the wind +howling about the store made Maida sad. Now it seemed the jolliest +of sounds. And when at seven, Rosie appeared, Maida's cup of +happiness brimmed over. + +While Billy talked with Granny, the two little girls rearranged the +stock. + +"My mother was awful mad with me just before supper," Rosie began at +once. "It seems as if she was so cross lately that there's no living +with her. She picks on me all the time. That's why I'm here. She +sent me to bed. But I made up my mind I wouldn't go to bed. I +climbed out my bedroom window and came over here." + +"Oh, Rosie, I wish you wouldn't do that," Maida said. "Oh, do run +right home! Think how worried your mother would be if she went up +into your room and found you gone. She wouldn't know what had become +of you." + +"Well, then, what makes her so strict with me?" Rosie cried. Her +eyes had grown as black as thunder clouds. The scowl that made her +face so sullen had come deep between her eyebrows. + +"Oh, how I wish I had a mother," Maida said longingly. "I guess I +wouldn't say a word to her, no matter how strict she was." + +"I guess you don't know what you'd do until you tried it," Rosie +said. + +Granny and Billy had been curiously quiet in the other room. +Suddenly Billy Potter stepped to the door. + +"I've just thought of a great game, children," he said. "But we've +got to play it in the kitchen. Bring some crayons, Maida." + +The children raced after him. "What is it?" they asked in chorus. + +Billy did not answer. He lifted Granny's easy-chair with Granny, +knitting and all, and placed it in front of the kitchen stove. Then +he began to draw a huge rectangle on the clean, stone floor. + +"Guess," he said. + +"Sure and Oi know what ut's going to be," smiled Granny. + +Maida and Rosie watched him closely. Suddenly they both shouted +together: + +"Hopscotch! Hopscotch!" + +"Right you are!" Billy approved. He searched among the coals in the +hod until he found a hard piece of slate. + +"All ready now!" he said briskly. "Your turn, first, Rosie, because +you're company." + +Rosie failed on "fivesy." Maida's turn came next and she failed on +"threesy." Billy followed Maida but he hopped on the line on +"twosy." + +"Oi belave Oi cud play that game, ould as Oi am," Granny said +suddenly. + +"I bet you could," Billy said. + +"Sure, 'twas a foine player Oi was when Oi was a little colleen." + +"Come on, Granny," Billy said. + +The two little girls jumped up and down, clapping their hands and +shrieking, "Granny's going to play!" "Granny's going to play!" They +made so much noise finally, that Billy had to threaten to stand them +on their heads in a corner. + +Granny took her turn after Billy. She hopped about like a very +active and a very benevolent old fairy. + +"Oh, doesn't she look like the Dame in fairy tales?" Maida said. + +They played for a half an hour. And who do you suppose won? Not +Maida with all her new-found strength, not Rosie with all her +nervous energy, not Billy with all his athletic training. + +"Mrs. Delia Flynn, champion of America and Ireland," Billy greeted +the victor. "Granny, we'll have to enter you in the next Olympic +games." + +They returned after this breathless work to the living-room. + +"Now I'm going to tell you a story," Billy announced. + +"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Maida squealed. "Do! Billy tells the most wonderful +stories, Rosie--stories he's heard and stories he's read. But the +most wonderful ones are those that he makes up as he goes along." + +The two little girls settled themselves on the hearth-rug at Billy's +feet. Granny sat, not far off, working with double speed at her +neglected knitting. + +"Once upon a time," Billy said, "there lived a little girl named +Klara. And Klara was the naughtiest little girl in the world. She +was a pretty child and a clever child and everybody would have loved +her if she had only given them a chance. But how can you love a +child who is doing naughty things all the time? Particularly was she +a great trial to her mother. That poor lady was not well and needed +care and attention, herself. But instead of giving her these, Klara +gave her only hard words and disobedient acts. The mother used +sometimes to punish her little daughter but it seemed as if this +only made her worse. Both father and mother were in despair about +her. Klara seemed to be growing steadily worse and worse. And, +indeed, lately, she had added to her naughtiness by threatening to +run away. + +"One night, it happened, Klara had been so bad that her mother had +put her to bed early. The moment her mother left the room, Klara +whipped over to the window. 'I'm going to dress myself and climb out +the window and run away and never come back, she said to herself.' + +"The house in which Klara lived was built on the side of a cliff, +overlooking the sea. As Klara stood there in her nightgown the moon +began to rise and come up out of the water. Now the moonrise is +always a beautiful sight and Klara stopped for a moment to watch it, +fascinated. + +"It seemed to her that she had never seen the moon look so big +before. And certainly she had never seen it such a color--a soft deep +orange. In fact, it might have been an immense orange--or better, a +monster pumpkin stuck on the horizon-line. + +"The strange thing about the moon, though, was that it grew larger +instead of smaller. It rose higher and higher, growing bigger and +bigger, until it was half-way up the curve of the sky. Then it +stopped short. Klara watched it, her eyes bulging out of her head. +In all her experience she had never seen such a surprising thing. +And while she watched, another remarkable thing happened. A great +door in the moon opened suddenly and there on the threshold stood a +little old lady. A strange little old lady she was--a little old lady +with short red skirts and high, gayly-flowered draperies at her +waist, a little old lady with a tall black, sugar-loaf hat, a great +white ruff around her neck and little red shoes with bright silver +buckles on them--a little old lady who carried a black cat perched on +one shoulder and a broomstick in one hand. + +"The little old lady stooped down and lifted something over the +threshold. Klara strained her eyes to see what it was. It looked +like a great roll of golden carpeting. With a sudden deft movement +the little old lady threw it out of the door. It flew straight +across the ocean, unrolling as swiftly as a ball of twine that +you've flung across the room. It came nearer and nearer. The farther +it got from the moon, the faster it unrolled. After a while it +struck against the shore right under Klara's window and Klara saw +that it was the wake of the moon. She watched. + +"The little old lady had disappeared from the doorway in the moon +but the door did not close. And, suddenly, still another wonderful +thing happened. The golden wake lifted itself gradually from the +water until it was on a level with Klara's window. Bending down she +touched it with both her soft little hands. It was as firm and hard +as if it had been woven from strands of gold. + +"'Now's my time to run away from my cross mother,' Klara said to +herself. 'I guess that nice old lady in the moon wants me to come +and be her little girl. Well, I'll go. I guess they'll be sorry in +this house to-morrow when they wake up and find they're never going +to see me again.' + +"Opening the window gently that nobody might hear her, she stepped +on to the Wake of Gold. It felt cool and hard to her little bare +feet. It inclined gently from her window. She ran down the slope +until she reached the edge of the sea. There she hesitated. For a +moment it seemed a daring thing to walk straight out to the moon +with nothing between her and the water but a path of gold. Then she +recalled how her mother had sent her to bed and her heart hardened. +She started briskly out. + +"From Klara's window it had looked as though it would take her only +a few moments to get to the moon. But the farther she went, the +farther from her the doorway seemed to go. But she did not mind that +the walk was so long because it was so pretty. Looking over the edge +of the Wake of Gold, deep down in the water, she could see all kinds +of strange sights. + +"At one place a school of little fish swam up to the surface of the +water. Klara knelt down and watched their pretty, graceful motions. +The longer she gazed the more fish she saw and the more beautiful +they seemed. Pale-blue fishes with silver spots. Pale-pink ones with +golden stripes. Gorgeous red ones with jewelled black horns. +Brilliant yellow and green ones that shone like phosphorus. And here +and there, gliding among them, were what seemed little angel-fish +like living rainbows, whose filmy wing-like fins changed color when +they swam. + +"Klara reached into the water and tried to catch some of these +marvelous beings. + +"But at her first motion--bing! The water looked as if it were +streaked with rainbow lightning. Swish! It was dull and clear again, +with nothing between her and the quiet, seaweed-covered bottom. + +"A little farther along Klara came across a wonderful sea-grotto. +Again she knelt down on the Wake of Gold and watched. At the bottom +the sand was so white and shiny that it might have been made of +star-dust. Growing up from it were beds of marvelous seaflowers, +opening and shutting delicate petals, beautiful seafans that waved +with every ripple, high, thick shrubs and towering trees in which +the fishes had built their nests. In and out among all this +undergrowth, frisked tiny sea-horses, ridden by mischievous +sea-urchins. They leaped and trotted and galloped as if they were so +happy that they did not know what to do. Klara felt that she must +play with them. She put one little foot into the water to attract +their attention. Bing! The water seemed alive with scuttling things. +Swish! The grotto was so quiet that she could not believe that there +was anything living in it. + +"A little farther on, Klara came upon a sight even more wonderful +than this--a village of mer-people. It was set so far down in the +water that it seemed a million miles away. And yet the water was so +clear that she felt she could touch the housetops. + +"The mer-houses seemed to be made of a beautiful, sparkling white +coral with big, wide-open windows through which the tide drifted. +The mer-streets seemed to be cobbled in pearl, the sidewalks to be +paved in gold. At their sides grew mer-trees, the highest she had +ever seen, with all kinds of beautiful singing fish roosting in +their branches. Little mer-boats of carved pink coral with purple +seaweed sails or of mother-of-pearl with rosy, mer-flower-petal +sails, were floating through the streets. In some, sat little +mer-maidens, the sunlight flashing on their pretty green scales, on +their long, golden tresses, on the bright mirrors they held in their +hands. Other boats held little mer-boys who made beautiful music on +the harps they carried. + +"At one end of the mer-village Klara could see one palace, bigger +and more beautiful than all the others. Through an open window she +caught a glimpse of the mer-king--a jolly old fellow with a fat red +face and a long white beard sitting on a throne of gold. At his side +reclined the mer-queen--a very beautiful lady with a skin as white as +milk and eyes as green as emeralds. Little mer-princes and little +mer-princesses were playing on the floor with tiny mer-kittens and +tinier mer-puppies. One sweet little mer-baby was tiptailing towards +the window with a pearl that she had stolen from her sister's +coronet. + +"It seemed to Klara that this mer-village was the most enchanting +place that she had ever seen in her life. Oh, how she wanted to live +there! + +"'Oh, good mer-king,' she called entreatingly, 'and good mer-queen, +please let me come to live in your palace.' + +"Bing! The water rustled and roiled as if all the birds of paradise +that the world contained had taken flight. Swish! It was perfectly +quiet again. The mer-village was as deserted as a graveyard. + +"'Well, if they don't want me, they shan't get me, Klara said. And +she walked on twice as proud.' + +"By this time she was getting closer and closer to the moon. The +nearer she came the bigger it grew. Now it filled the entire sky. +The door had remained open all this time. Through it she could see a +garden--a garden more beautiful than any fairy-tale garden that she +had ever read about. From the doorway silvery paths stretched +between hedges as high as a giant's head. Sometimes these paths +ended in fountains whose spray twisted into all kinds of fairy-like +shapes. Sometimes these paths seemed to stop flush against the +clouds. Nearer stretched flower-beds so brilliant that you would +have thought a kaleidoscope had broken on the ground. Birds, like +living jewels, flew in and out through the tree-branches. They sang +so hard that it seemed to Klara they must burst their little +throats. From the branches hung all kinds of precious stones, all +kinds of delicious-looking fruits and candies. + +"Klara could not scramble through the door quickly enough. + +"But as she put one foot on the threshold the little old lady +appeared. She looked as if she had stepped out of a fairy-tale. And +yet Klara had a strange feeling of discomfort when she looked at +her. It seemed to Klara that the old lady's mouth was cruel and her +eyes hard. + +"'Are you the little girl who's run away?' the old lady asked. + +"'Yes,' Klara faltered. + +"'And you want to live in the Kingdom of the Moon?' + +"'Yes.' + +"'Enter then.' + +"The old lady stepped aside and Klara marched across the threshold. +She felt the door swinging to behind her. She heard a bang as it +closed, shutting her out of the world and into the moon. + +"And then--and then--what do you think happened?" + +Billy stopped for a moment. Rosie and Maida rose to their knees. + +"What happened?" they asked breathlessly. + +"The garden vanished as utterly as if it were a broken soap-bubble. +Gone were the trees and the flowers; gone were the fountains and the +birds; gone, too, were the jewels, the candies and the fruits. + +"The place had become a huge, dreary waste, stretching as far as +Klara could see into the distance. It seemed to her as if all the +trash that the world had outgrown had been dumped here--it was so +covered with heaps of old rubbish. + +"Klara turned to the old lady. She had not changed except that her +cruel mouth sneered. + +"Klara burst into tears. 'I want to go home,' she screamed. 'Let me +go back to my mother.' + +"The old lady only smiled. 'You open that door and let me go back to +my mother,' Klara cried passionately. + +"'But I can't open it,' the old lady said. 'It's locked. I have no +keys.' + +"'Where are the keys?' Klara asked. + +"The old lady pointed to the endless heaps of rubbish. 'There, +somewhere,' she said. + +"'I'll find them,' Klara screamed, 'and open that door and run back +to my home. You shan't keep me from my own dear mother, you wicked +woman.' + +"'Nobody wants to keep you,' the old lady said. 'You came of your +own accord. Find the keys if you want to go back.' + +"That was true and Klara wisely did not answer. But you can fancy +how she regretted coming. She began to search among the dump-heaps. +She could find no keys. But the longer she hunted the more +determined she grew. It seemed to her that she searched for weeks +and weeks. + +"It was very discouraging, very dirty and very fatiguing work. She +moved always in a cloud of dust. At times it seemed as if her back +would break from bending so much. Often she had to bite her lips to +keep from screaming with rage after she had gone through a +rubbish-pile as high as her head and, still, no keys. All kinds of +venomous insects stung her. All kinds of vines and brambles scratched +her. All kinds of stickers and thistles pricked her. Her little feet +and hands bled all the time. But still she kept at it. After that first +conversation, Klara never spoke with the old lady again. After a few +days Klara left her in the distance. At the end of a week, the +moon-door was no longer in sight when Klara looked back. + +"But during all those weeks of weary work Klara had a chance to +think. She saw for the first time what a naughty little girl she had +been and how she had worried the kindest mother in the world. Her +longing for her mother grew so great at times that she had to sit +down and cry. But after a while she would dry her eyes and go at the +hunt with fresh determination. + +"One day she caught a glint of something shining from a clump of +bushes. She had to dig and dig to get at it for about these bushes +the ashes were packed down hard. But finally she uncovered a pair of +iron keys. On one was printed in letters of gold, 'I'M SORRY,' on +the other, 'I'LL NEVER DO SO AGAIN.' + +"Klara seized the keys joyfully and ran all the long way back to the +great door. It had two locks. She put one key in the upper lock, +turned it--a great bolt jarred. She put the other key into the second +lock, turned it--a great bolt jarred. The door swung open. + +"'I'm sorry,' Klara whispered to herself. 'I'll never do so again.' + +"She had a feeling that as long as she said those magic words, +everything would go well with her. + +"Extending out from the door was the Wake of Gold. Klara bounded +through the opening and ran. She turned back after a few moments and +there was the old lady with her cat and her broomstick standing in +the doorway. But the old lady's face had grown very gentle and kind. + +"Klara did not look long. She ran as fast as she could pelt across +the golden path, whispering, 'I'm sorry. I will never do so again. +I'm sorry. I will never do so again. I'm sorry. I will never do so +again.' + +"And as she ran all the little mer-people came to the surface of the +water to encourage her. The little mer-maidens flashed their mirrors +at her. The little mer-boys played wonderful music on their harps. +The mer-king gave her a jolly smile and the mer-queen blew her a +kiss. All the little mer-princesses and all the little mer-princes +held up their pets to her. Even the mer-baby clapped her dimpled +hands. + +"And farther on all the little sea horses with the sea urchins on +their backs assembled in bobbing groups. And farther on all the +little rainbow fishes gathered in shining files. As she ran all the +scratches and gashes in her flesh healed up. + +"After a while she reached her own window. Opening it, she jumped +in. Turning to pull it down she saw the old lady disappear from the +doorway of the moon, saw the door close upon her, saw the Wake of +Gold melt and fall into the sea where it lay in a million gleaming +spangles, saw the moon float up into the sky, growing smaller and +smaller and paler and paler until it was no larger than a silver +plate. And now it was the moon no longer--it was the sun. Its rays +were shining hot on her face. She was back in her little bed. Her +mother's arms were about her and Klara was saying, 'I'm SORRY. I +WILL NEVER DO SO AGAIN.'" + + ---------------------- + +For a long time after Billy finished the room was very quiet. Then +suddenly Rosie jumped to her feet. "That was a lovely story, Billy," +she said. "But I guess I don't want to hear any more now. I think +I'll go home." + + + + + + CHAPTER IX: WORK + + +It was still raining when Maida got up the next day. It rained all +the morning. She listened carefully at a quarter to twelve for the +one-session bell but it did not ring. Just before school began in +the afternoon Rosie came into the shop. Maida saw at once that +something had happened to her. Rosie's face looked strange and she +dragged across the room instead of pattering with her usual quick, +light step. + +"What do you think's happened, Maida?" Rosie asked. + +"I don't know. Oh, what?" Maida asked affrighted. + +"When I came home from school this noon mother wasn't there. But +Aunt Theresa was there--she'd cooked the dinner. She said that mother +had gone away for a visit and that she wouldn't be back for some +time. She said she was going to keep house for father and me while +mother was gone. I feel dreadfully homesick and lonesome without +mother." + +"Oh Rosie, I am sorry," Maida said. "But perhaps your mother won't +stay long. Do you like your Aunt Theresa?" + +"Oh, yes, I like her. But of course she isn't mother." + +"No, of course. Nobody is like your mother." + +"Oh, yes; there's something else I had to tell you. The W.M.N.T.'s +are going to meet at Dicky's after school this afternoon. Be sure to +come, Maida." + +"Of course I'll come." Maida's whole face sparkled. "That is, if +Granny doesn't think it's too wet." + +Rosie lingered for a few moments but she did not seem like her usual +happy-go-lucky self. And when she left, Maida noticed that instead +of running across the street she actually walked. + +All the morning long Maida talked of nothing to Granny but the +prospective meeting of the W.M.N.T.'s. "Just think, Granny, I never +belonged to a club before," she said again and again. + +Very early she had put out on her bed the clothes that she intended +to wear--a tanbrown serge of which she was particularly fond, and her +favorite "tire" of a delicate, soft lawn. She kept rushing to the +window to study the sky. It continued to look like the inside of a +dull tin cup. She would not have eaten any lunch at all if Granny +had not told her that she must. And her heart sank steadily all the +afternoon for the rain continued to come down. + +"I don't suppose I can go, Granny," she faltered when the clock +struck four. + +"Sure an you _can_," Granny responded briskly. + +But she wrapped Maida up, as Maida herself said: "As if I was one of +papa's carved crystals come all the way from China." + +First Granny put on a sweater, then a coat, then over all a +raincoat. She put a hood on her head and a veil over that. She made +her wear rubber boots and take an umbrella. Maida got into a gale of +laughter during the dressing. + +"I ought to be wrapped in excelsior now," she said. "If I fall down +in the puddle in the court, Granny," she threatened merrily, "I +never can pick myself up. I'll either have to roll and roll and roll +until I get on to dry land or I'll have to wait until somebody comes +and shovels me out." + +But she did not fall into the puddle. She walked carefully along the +edge and then ran as swiftly as her clothes and lameness would +permit. She arrived in Dicky's garret, red-cheeked and breathless. + +Arthur and Rosie had already come. Rosie was playing on the floor +with Delia and the puppy that she had rescued from the tin-can +persecution. Rosie was growling, the dog was yelping and Delia was +squealing--but all three with delight. + +Arthur and Dicky sat opposite each other, working at the round +table. + +"What do you think of that dog now, Maida?" Rosie asked proudly. +"His name is 'Tag.' You wouldn't know him for the same dog, would +you? Isn't he a nice-looking little puppy?" + +Tag did look like another dog. He wore a collar and his yellowy coat +shone like satin. His whole manner had changed. He came running over +to Maida and stood looking at her with the most spirited air in the +world, his head on one side, one paw up and one ear cocked +inquisitively. His tail wriggled so fast that Delia thinking it some +wonderful new toy, kept trying to catch it and hold it in her little +fingers. + +"He's a lovely doggie," Maida said. "I wish I'd brought Fluff." + +"And did you ever see such a dear baby," Rosie went on, hugging +Delia. "Oh, if I only had a baby brother or sister!" + +"She's a darling," Maida agreed heartily. "Babies are so much more +fun than dolls, don't you think so, Rosie?" + +"Dolls!" No words can express the contempt that was in Miss Brine's +accent. + +"What are you doing, Dicky?" Maida asked, limping over to the table. + +"Making things," Dicky said cheerfully. + +On the table were piles of mysterious-looking objects made entirely +of paper. Some were of white paper and others of brown, but they +were all decorated with trimmings of colored tissue. + +"What are they?" Maida asked. "Aren't they lovely? I never saw +anything like them in my life." + +Dicky blushed all over his face at this compliment but it was +evident that he was delighted. "Well, those are paper-boxes," he +said, pointing to the different piles of things, "and those are +steamships. Those are the old-fashioned kind with double +smokestacks. Those are double-boats, jackets, pants, badges, +nose-pinchers, lamp-lighters, firemen's caps and soldier caps." + +"Oh, that's why you buy all that colored paper," Maida said in a +tone of great satisfaction. "I've often wondered." She examined +Dicky's work carefully. She could see that it was done with +remarkable precision and skill. "Oh, what fun to do things like +that. I do wish you'd show me how to make them, Dicky. I'm such a +useless girl. I can't make a single thing." + +"I'll show you, sure," Dicky offered generously. + +"What are you making so many for?" Maida queried. + +"Well, you see it's this way," Dicky began in a business-like air. +"Arthur and Rosie and I are going to have a fair. We've had a fair +every spring and every fall for the last three years. That's how we +get our money for Christmas and the Fourth of July. Arthur whittles +things out of wood--he'll show you what he can do in a minute--he's a +crackajack. Rosie makes candy. And I make these paper things." + +"And do you make much money?" Maida asked, deeply interested. + +"Don't make any money at all," Dicky said. "The children pay us in +nails. I charge them ten nails a-piece for the easy things and twenty +nails for the hardest. Arthur can get more for his stuff because +it's harder to do." + +"But what do you want nails for?" Maida asked in bewilderment. + +"Why, nails are junk." + +"And what's junk?" + +The three children stared at her. "Don't you know what _junk_ is, +Maida?" Rosie asked in despair. + +"No." + +"Junk's old iron," Dicky explained. "And you sell it to the junkman. +Once we made forty cents out of one of these fairs. One reason we're +beginning so early this year, I've got something very particular I +want to buy my mother for a Christmas present. Can you keep a +secret, Maida?" + +Maida nodded. + +"Well, it's a fur collar for her neck. They have them down in a +store on Main street every winter--two dollars and ninetyeight cents. +It seems an awful lot but I've got over a dollar saved up. And I +guess I can do it if I work hard." + +"How much have you made ordinarily?" Maida asked thoughtfully. + +"Once we made forty cents a-piece but that's the most." + +"I tell you what you do," Maida burst out impetuously after a moment +of silence in which she considered this statement. "When the time +comes for you to hold your fair, I'll lend you my shop for a day. +I'll take all the things out of the window and I'll clean all the +shelves off and you boys can put your things there. I'll clear out +the showcases for Rosie's candy. Won't that be lovely?" She smiled +happily. + +"It would be grand business for us," Dicky said soberly, "but +somehow it doesn't seem quite fair to you." + +"Oh, please don't think of that," Maida said. "I'd just love to do +it. And you must teach me how to make things so that I can help you. +You will take the shop, Dicky?" she pleaded. "And you, Rosie? And +Arthur?" She looked from one to the other with all her heart in her +eyes. + +But nobody spoke for a moment. "It seems somehow as if we oughtn't +to," Dicky said awkwardly at last. + +Maida's lip trembled. At first she could not understand. Here she +was aching to do a kindness to these three friends of hers. And +they, for some unknown reason, would not permit it. It was not that +they disliked her, she knew. What was it? She tried to put herself +in their place. Suddenly it came to her what the difficulty was. +They did not want to be so much in her debt. How could she prevent +that? She must let them do something for her that would lessen that +debt. But what? She thought very hard. In a flash it came to her--a +plan by which she could make it all right. + +"You see," she began eagerly, "I wanted to ask you three to help me +in something, but I can't do it unless you let me help you. +Listen--the next holiday is Halloween. I want to decorate my shop +with a lot of real jack-o'-lanterns cut from pumpkins. It will be +hard work and a lot of it and I was hoping that perhaps you'd help +me with this." + +The three faces lighted up. + +"Of course we will," Dicky said heartily. + +"Gee, I bet Dicky and I could make some great lanterns," Arthur said +reflectively. + +"And I'll help you fix up the store," Rosie said with enthusiasm. "I +just love to make things look pretty." + +"It's a bargain then," Maida said. "And now you must teach me how to +help you this very afternoon, Dicky." + +They fell to work with a vim. At least three of them did. Rosie +continued to frisk with Delia and Tag on the floor. Dicky started +Maida on the caps first. He said that those were the easiest. And, +indeed she had very little trouble with anything until she came to +the boxes. She had to do her first box over and over again before it +would come right. But Dicky was very patient with her. He kept +telling her that she did better than most beginners or she would +have given it up. When she made her first good box, her face beamed +with satisfaction. + +"Do you mind if I take it home, Dicky?" she asked. "I'd like to show +it to my father when he comes. It's the first thing I ever made in +my life." + +"Of course," Dicky said. + +"Don't the other children ever try to copy your things?" Maida +asked. + +"They try to," Arthur answered, "but they never do so well as +Dicky." + +"You ought to see their nose-pinchers," Rosie laughed. "They can't +stand up straight. And their boxes and steamships are the wobbliest +things." + +"I'm going to get all kinds of stuff for things we make for the +fair," Maida said reflectively. "Gold and silver paper and colored +stars and pretty fancy pictures for trimmings. You see if you're +going to charge real money you must make them more beautiful than +those for which you only charged nails." + +"That's right," Dicky said. "By George, that will be great! You go +ahead and buy whatever you think is right, Maida, and I'll pay you +for it from what we take in at the fair." + +"That's settled. What do you whittle, Arthur?" + +"Oh, all kinds of things--things I made up myself and things I +learned how to do in sloyd in school. I make bread-boards and +rolling pins and shinny sticks and cats and little baskets out of +cherry-stones." + +"Jiminy crickets, he's forgetting the boats," Dicky burst in +enthusiastically. "He makes the dandiest boats you ever saw in your +life." + +Maida looked at Arthur in awe. "I never heard anything like it! Can +you make anything for girls?" + +"Made me a set of the darlingest dolls' furniture you ever saw in +your life," Rosie put in from the floor. + +"Say, did you get into any trouble last night?" Arthur turned +suddenly to Rosie. "I forgot to ask you." + +"Arthur and Rosie hooked jack yesterday, in all that rain," Dicky +explained to Maida. "They knew a place where they could get a whole +lot of old iron and they were afraid if they waited, it would be +gone." + +"I should say I did," Rosie answered Arthur's question. "Somebody +went and tattled to my mother. Of course, I was wet through to the +skin and that gave the whole thing away, anyway. I got the worst +scolding and mother sent me to bed without my supper. But I climbed +out the window and went over to see Maida. I don't mind! I hate +school and as long as I live I shall never go except when I want +to--never, never, never! I guess I'm not going to be shut up studying +when I'd rather be out in the open air. Wouldn't you hook jack if +you wanted to, Maida?" + +Maida did not reply for an instant. She hated to have Rosie ask this +question, point-blank for she did not want to answer it. If she said +exactly what she thought there might be trouble. And it seemed to +her that she would do almost anything rather than lose Rosie's +friendship. But Maida had been taught to believe that the truth is +the most precious thing in the world. And so she told the truth +after a while but it was with a great effort. + +"No, I wouldn't," she said. + +"Oh, that's all right for _you_ to say," Rosie said firing up. "You +don't have to go to school. You live the easiest life that anybody +can--just sitting in a chair and tending shop all day. What do you +know about it, anyway?" + +Maida's lips quivered. "It is true I don't go to school, Rosie," she +said. "But it isn't because I don't want to. I'd give anything on +earth if I could go. I watch that line of children every morning and +afternoon of my life and wish and _wish_ and WISH I was in it. And +when the windows are opened and I hear the singing and reading, it +seems as if I just couldn't stand it." + +"Oh, well," Rosie's tone was still scornful. "I don't believe, even +if you did go to school, that you'd ever do anything bad. You'd +never be anything but a fraid-cat and teacher's pet." + +"I guess I'd be so glad to be there, I'd do anything the teacher +asked," Maida said dejectedly. "I do a lot of things that bother +Granny but I guess I never have been a very naughty girl. You can't +be very naughty with your leg all crooked under you." Maida's voice +had grown bitter. The children looked at her in amazement. "But +what's the use of talking to you two," she went on. "You could never +understand. I guess Dicky knows what I mean, though." + +To their great surprise, Maida put her head down on the table and +cried. + +For a moment the room was perfectly silent. The fire snapped and +Dicky went over to look at it. He stood with his back turned to the +other children but a suspicious snuffle came from his direction. +Arthur Duncan walked to the window and stood looking out. Rosie sat +still, her eyes downcast, her little white teeth biting her red +lips. Then suddenly she jumped to her feet, ran like a whirlwind to +Maida's side. She put her arms about the bowed figure. + +"Oh, do excuse me, Maida," she begged. "I know I'm the worst girl in +the world. Everybody says so and I guess it's true. But I do love +you and I wouldn't have hurt your feelings for anything. I don't +believe you'd be a fraid-cat or teacher's pet--I truly don't. Please +excuse me." + +Maida wiped her tears away. "Of course I'll excuse you! But just the +same, Rosie, I hope you won't hook jack any more for someday you'll +be sorry." + +"I'm going to make some candy now," Rosie said, adroitly changing +the subject. "I brought some molasses and butter and everything I +need." She began to bustle about the stove. Soon they were all +laughing again. + +Maida had never pulled candy before and she thought it the most +enchanting fun in the world. It was hard to keep at work, though, +when it was such a temptation to stop and eat it. But she persevered +and succeeded in pulling hers whiter than anybody's. She laughed and +talked so busily that, when she started to put on her things, all +traces of tears had disappeared. + +The rain had stopped. The puddle was of monster size after so long a +storm. They came out just in time to help Molly fish Tim out of the +water and to prevent Betsy from giving a stray kitten a bath. +Following Rosie and Arthur, Maida waded through it from one end to +the other--it seemed the most perilous of adventures to her. + +After that meeting, the W.M.N.T.'s were busier than they had ever +been. Every other afternoon, and always when it was bad weather, +they worked at Maida's house. Granny gave Maida a closet all to +herself and as fast as the things were finished they were put in +boxes and stowed away on its capacious shelves. + +Arthur whittled and carved industriously. His work went slower than +Dicky's of course but, still, it went with remarkable quickness. +Maida often stopped her own work on the paper things to watch +Arthur's. It was a constant marvel to her that such big, +awkward-looking hands could perform feats of such delicacy. Her +own fingers, small and delicate as they were, bungled surprisingly +at times. + +"And as for the paste," Maida said in disgust to Rosie one day, +"you'd think that I fell into the paste-pot every day. I wash it off +my hands and face. I pick it off of my clothes and sometimes Granny +combs it out of my hair." + +Often after dinner, the W.M.N.T.'s would call in a body on Maida. +Then would follow long hours of such fun that Maida hated to hear +the clock strike nine. Always there would be molasses-candy making +by the capable Rosie at the kitchen stove and corn-popping by the +vigorous Arthur on the living-room hearth. After the candy had +cooled and the pop corn had been flooded in melted butter, they +would gather about the hearth to roast apples and chestnuts and to +listen to the fairy-tales that Maida would read. + +The one thing which she could do and they could not was to read with +the ease and expression of a grown person. As many of her books were +in French as in English and it was the wonder of the other +W.M.N.T.'s that she could read a French story, translating as she +went. Her books were a delight to Arthur and Dicky and she lent them +freely. Rosie liked to listen to stories but she did not care to +read. + +Maida was very happy nowadays. Laura was the only person in the +Court who had caused her any uneasiness. Since the day that Laura +had made herself so disagreeable, Maida had avoided her steadily. +Best of all, perhaps, Maida's health had improved so much that even +her limp was slowly disappearing. + +In the course of time, the children taught Maida the secret language +of the W.M.N.T.'s. They could hold long conversations that were +unintelligible to anybody else. When at first they used it in fun +before Maida, she could not understand a word. After they had +explained it to her, she wondered that she had ever been puzzled. + +"It's as easy as anything," Rosy said. "You take off the first sound +of a word and put it on the end with an _ay_ added to it like +MAN--an-may. BOY--oy-bay. GIRL--irl-gay. When a word is just one sound +like I or O, or when it begins with a vowel like EEL or US or OUT, +you add _way_, like I--I-way. O--O-way. EEL--eel-way. US--us-way. +OUT--out-way." + +Thus Maida could say to Rosie: + +"Are-way ou-yay oing-gay o-tay ool-schay o-tay ay-day?" and mean +simply, "Are you going to school to-day?" + +And sometimes to Maida's grief, Rosie would reply roguishly: + +"O-nay I-way am-way oing-gay o-tay ook-hay ack-jay ith-way +Arthur-way." + +Billy Potter was finally invited to join the W.M.N.T.'s too. He +never missed a meeting if he could possibly help it. + +"Why do you call Maida, 'Petronilla'?" Dicky asked him curiously one +day when Maida had run home for more paper. + +"Petronilla is the name of a little girl in a fairy-tale that I read +when I was a little boy," Billy answered. + +"And was she like Maida?" Arthur asked. + +"Very." + +"How?" Rosie inquired. + +"Petronilla had a gold star set in her forehead by a fairy when she +was a baby," Billy explained. "It was a magic star. Nobody but +fairies could see it but it was always there. Anybody who came +within the light of Petronilla's star, no matter how wicked or +hopeless or unhappy he was, was made better and hopefuller and +happier." + +Nobody spoke for an instant. + +Then, "I guess Maida's got the star all right," Dicky said. + +Billy was very interested in the secret language. At first when they +talked this gibberish before him, he listened mystified. But to +their great surprise he never asked a question. They went right on +talking as if he were not present. In an interval of silence, Billy +said softly: + +"I-way onder-way if-way I-way ought-bay a-way uart-quay of-way +ice-way-eam-cray, ese-thay ildren-chay ould-way eat-way it-way." + +For a moment nobody could speak. Then a deafening, "es-yay!" was +shouted at the top of four pairs of lungs. + + + + + + CHAPTER X: PLAY + + +But although the W.M.N.T.'s worked very hard, you must not suppose +that they left no time to play. Indeed, the weather was so fine that +it was hard to stay in the house. The beautiful Indian summer had +come and each new day dawned more perfect than the last. The trees +had become so gorgeous that it was as if the streets were lined with +burning torches. Whenever a breeze came, they seemed to flicker and +flame and flare. Maida and Rosie used to shuffle along the gutters +gathering pocketsful of glossy horse-chestnuts and handfuls of +gorgeous leaves. + +Sometimes it seemed to Maida that she did not need to play, that +there was fun enough in just being out-of-doors. But she did play a +great deal for she was well enough to join in all the fun now and it +seemed to her that she never could get enough of any one game. + +She would play house and paper-dolls and ring-games with the little +children in the morning when the older ones were in school. She +would play jackstones with the bigger girls in the afternoon. She +would play running games with the crowd of girls and boys, of whom +the W.M.N.T.'s were the leaders, towards night. Then sometimes she +would grumble to Granny because the days were so short. + +Of all the games, Hoist-the-Sail was her favorite. She often served +as captain on her side. But whether she called or awaited the cry, +"Liberty poles are bending--hoist the sail!" a thrill ran through her +that made her blood dance. + +"It's no use in talking, Granny," Maida said joyfully one day. "My +leg is getting stronger. I jumped twenty jumps to-day without +stopping." + +After that her progress was rapid. She learned to jump in the rope +with Rosie. + +They were a pretty sight. People passing often gave them more than +one glance--Rosie so vivid and sparkling, in the scarlet cape and hat +all velvety jet-blacks, satiny olives and brilliant crimsons--Maida +slim, delicate, fairy-like in her long squirrel-coat and cap, her +airy ringlets streaming in the breeze and the eyes that had once +been so wistful now shining with happiness. + +"Do you know what you look like, Maida?" Rosie said once. Before +Maida could answer, she went on. "You look like that little mermaid +princess in Anderson's fairy tales--the one who had to suffer so to +get legs like mortals." + +"Do I?" Maida laughed. "Now isn't it strange I have always thought +that you look like somebody in a fairy tale, too. You're like +Rose-Red in 'Rose-Red and Snow-White.' I think," she added, flushing, +for she was a little afraid that it was not polite to say things like +this, "that you are the beautifulest girl I ever saw." + +"Why, that's just what I think of you," Rosie said in surprise. + +"I just love black hair," Maida said. + +"And I just adore golden hair," Rosie said. "Now, isn't that +strange?" + +"I guess," Maida announced after a moment of thought, "people like +what they haven't got." + +After a while, Rosie taught Maida to jump in the big rope with a +half a dozen children at once. Maida never tired of this. When she +heard the rope swishing through the air, a kind of excitement came +over her. She was proud to think that she had caught the trick--that +something inside would warn her when to jump--that she could be sure +that this warning would not come an instant too soon or too late. +The consciousness of a new strength and a new power made a different +child of her. It made her eyes sparkle like gray diamonds. It made +her cheeks glow like pink peonies. + +By this time she could spin tops with the best of them--sometimes she +had five tops going at once. This was a sport of which the +W.M.N.T.'s never tired. They kept it up long into the twilight. +Sometimes Granny would have to ring the dinner-bell a half a dozen +times before Maida appeared. Maida did not mean to be disobedient. +She simply did not hear the bell. Granny's scoldings for this +carelessness were very gentle--Maida's face was too radiant with her +triumph in this new skill. + +There was something about Primrose Court--the rows of trees welded +into a yellow arch high over their heads, the sky showing through in +diamond-shaped glints of blue, the tiny trim houses and their +tinier, trimmer yards, the doves pink-toeing everywhere, their +throats bubbling color as wonderful as the old Venetian glass in the +Beacon Street house, the children running and shouting, the very +smell of the dust which their pattering feet threw up--something in +the look of all this made Maida's spirits leap. + +"I'm happy, _happy_, HAPPY," Maida said one day. The next--Rosie came +rushing into the shop with a frightened face. + +"Oh, Maida," she panted, "a terrible thing has happened. Laura +Lathrop's got diphtheria--they say she's going to die." + +"Oh, Rosie, how dreadful! Who told you so?" + +"Annie the cook told Aunt Theresa. Dr. Ames went there three times +yesterday. Annie says Mrs. Lathrop looks something awful." + +"The poor, poor woman," Granny murmured compassionately. + +"Oh, I'm so sorry I was cross to Laura," Maida said, +conscience-stricken. "Oh, I do hope she won't die." + +"It must be dreadful for Laura," Rosie continued, "Harold can't go +near her. Nobody goes into the room but her mother and the nurse." + +The news cast a deep gloom over the Court. The little +children--Betsy, Molly and Tim played as usual for they could not +understand the situation. But the noisy fun of the older children +ceased entirely. They gathered on the corner and talked in low +voices, watching with dread any movement in the Lathrop house. For a +week or more Primrose Court was the quietest spot in the +neighborhood. + +"They say she's sinking," Rosie said that first night. + +The thought of it colored Maida's dreams. + +"She's got through the night all right," Rosie reported in the +morning, her face shining with hope. "And they think she's a little +better." But late the next afternoon, Rosie appeared again, her face +dark with dread, "Laura's worse again." + +Two or three days passed. Sometimes Laura was better. Oftener she +was worse. Dr. Ames's carriage seemed always to be driving into the +Court. + +"Annie says she's dying," Rosie retailed despairingly. "They don't +think she'll live through the night. Oh, won't it be dreadful to +wake up to-morrow and find the crape on the door." + +The thought of what she might see in the morning kept Maida awake a +long time that night. When she arose her first glance was for the +Lathrop door. There was no crape. + +"No better," Rosie dropped in to say on her way to school "but," she +added hopefully, "she's no worse." + +Maida watched the Lathrop house all day, dreading to see the +undertaker's wagon drive up. But it did not come--not that day, nor +the next, nor the next. + +"They think she's getting better," Rosie reported joyfully one day. + +And gradually Laura did get better. But it was many days before she +was well enough to sit up. + +"Mrs. Lathrop says," Rosie burst in one day with an excited face, +"that if we all gather in front of the house to-morrow at one +o'clock, she'll lift Laura up to the window so that we can see her. +She says Laura is crazy to see us all." + +"Oh, Rosie, I'm so glad!" Maida exclaimed, delighted. Seizing each +other by the waist, the two little girls danced about the room. + +"Oh, I'm going to be so good to Laura when she gets well," Maida +said. + +"So am I," Rosie declared with equal fervor. "The last thing I ever +said to her was that she was 'a hateful little smarty-cat.'" + +Five minutes before one, the next day, all the children in Primrose +Court gathered on the lawn in front of Laura's window. Maida led +Molly by one hand and Tim by the other. Rosie led Betsy and Delia. +Dorothy Clark held Fluff and Mabel held Tag. Promptly at one +o'clock, Mrs. Lathrop appeared at the window, carrying a little, +thin, white wisp of a girl, all muffled up in a big shawl. + +The children broke into shouts of joy. The boys waved their hats and +the girls their handkerchiefs. Tag barked madly and Rosie declared +afterwards that even Fluff looked excited. But Maida stood still +with the tears streaming down her cheeks--Laura's face looked so +tiny, her eyes so big and sad. From her own experience, Maida could +guess how weak Laura felt. + +Laura stayed only an instant at the window. One feeble wave of her +claw-like hand and she was gone. + +"Annie says Mrs. Lathrop is worn to a shadow trying to find things +to entertain Laura," Rosie said one night to Maida and Billy Potter. +"She's read all her books to her and played all her games with her +and Laura keeps saying she wished she had something new." + +"Oh, I do wish we could think of something to do for her," Maida +said wistfully. "I know just how she feels. If I could only think of +a new toy--but Laura has everything. And then the trouble with toys +is that after you've played with them once, there's no more fun in +them. I know what that is. If we all had telephones, we could talk +to her once in a while. But even that would tire her, I guess." + +Billy jumped. "I know what we can do for Laura," he said. "I'll have +to have Mrs. Lathrop's permission though." He seized his hat and +made for the door. "I'd better see her about it to-night." The door +slammed. + +It had all happened so suddenly that the children gazed after him +with wide-open mouths and eyes. + +"What do you suppose it's going to be, Maida?" Rosie asked finally. + +"I don't know," Maida answered. "I haven't the least idea. But if +Billy makes it, you may be sure it will be wonderful." + +When Billy came back, they asked him a hundred questions. But they +could not get a word out of him in regard to the new toy. + +He appeared at the shop early the next morning with a suit-case full +of bundles. Then followed doings that, for a long time, were a +mystery to everybody. A crowd of excited children followed him +about, asking him dozens of questions and chattering frantically +among themselves. + +First, he opened one of the bundles--out dropped eight little +pulleys. Second, he went up into Maida's bedroom and fastened one of +the little pulleys on the sill outside her window. Third, he did the +same thing in Rosie's house, in Arthur's and in Dicky's. Fourth, he +fastened four of the little pulleys at the playroom window in the +Lathrop house. + +"Oh, what is he doing?" "I can't think of anything." "Oh, I wish +he'd tell us," came from the children who watched these manoeuvres +from the street. + +Fifth, Billy opened another bundle--this time, out came four coils of +a thin rope. + +"I know now," Arthur called up to him, "but I won't tell." + +Billy grinned. + +And, sure enough, "You watch him," was all Arthur would say to the +entreaties of his friends. + +Sixth, Billy ran a double line of rope between Maida's and Laura's +window, a second between Rosie's and Laura's, a third between +Arthur's and Laura's, a fourth between Dicky's and Laura's. + +Last, Billy opened another bundle. Out dropped four square tin +boxes, each with a cover and a handle. + +"I've guessed it! I've guessed it!" Maida and Rosie screamed +together. "It's a telephone." + +"That's the answer," Billy confessed. He went from house to house +fastening a box to the lower rope. + +"Now when you want to say anything to Laura," he said on his return, +"just write a note, put it in the box, pull on the upper string and +it will sail over to her window. Suppose you all run home and write +something now. I'll go over to Laura's to see how it works." + +The children scattered. In a few moments, four excited little faces +appeared at as many windows. The telephone worked perfectly. Billy +handed Mrs. Lathrop the notes to deliver to Laura. + +"Oh, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Lathrop said suddenly, "there's a matter that +I wished to speak to you about. That little Flynn girl has lived in +the family of Mr. Jerome Westabrook, hasn't she?" + +Billy's eyes "skrinkled up." "Yes, Mrs. Lathrop," he admitted, "she +lived in the Westabrook family for several years." + +"So I guessed," Mrs. Lathrop said. "She's a very sweet little girl," +she went on earnestly for she had been touched by the sight of +Maida's grief the day that she held Laura to the window. "I hope Mr. +Westabrook's own little girl is as sweet." + +"She is, Mrs. Lathrop, I assure you she is," Billy said gravely. + +"What is the name of the Westabrook child?" + +"Elizabeth Fairfax Westabrook." + +"What is she like?" + +"She's a good deal like Maida," Billy said, his eyes beginning to +"skrinkle up" again. "They could easily pass for sisters." + +"I suppose that's why the Westabrooks have been so good to the +little Flynn girl," Mrs. Lathrop went on, "for they certainly are +very good to her. It is quite evident that Maida's clothes belonged +once to the little Westabrook girl." + +"You are quite right, Mrs. Lathrop. They were made for the little +Westabrook girl." + +Mrs. Lathrop always declared afterwards that it was the telephone +that really cured Laura. Certainly, it proved to be the most +exciting of toys to the little invalid. There was always something +waiting for her when she waked up in the morning and the tin boxes +kept bobbing from window to window until long after dark. The girls +kept her informed of what was going on in the neighborhood and the +boys sent her jokes and conundrums and puzzle pictures cut from the +newspapers. Gifts came to her at all hours. Sometimes it would be a +bit of wood-carving--a grotesque face, perhaps--that Arthur had done. +Sometimes it was a bit of Dicky's pretty paper-work. Rosie sent her +specimens of her cooking from candy to hot roasted potatoes, and +Maida sent her daily translations of an exciting fairy tale which +she was reading in French for the first time. + +Pretty soon Laura was well enough to answer the notes herself. She +wrote each of her correspondents a long, grateful and affectionate +letter. By and by, she was able to sit in a chair at the window and +watch the games. The children remembered every few moments to look +and wave to her and she always waved back. At last came the morning +when a very thin, pale Laura was wheeled out into the sunshine. +After that she grew well by leaps and bounds. In a day or two, she +could stand in the ring-games with the little children. By the end +of a week, she seemed quite herself. + +One morning every child in Primrose Court received a letter in the +mail. It was written on gay-tinted paper with a pretty picture at +the top. It read: + + "You are cordially invited to a Halloween party to be given by + Miss Laura Lathrop at 29 Primrose Court on Saturday evening, + October 31, at a half after seven." + + ---------------------- + +But as Maida ceased gradually to worry about Laura, she began to be +troubled about Rosie. For Rosie was not the same child. Much of the +time she was silent, moody and listless. + +One afternoon she came over to the shop, bringing the Clark twins +with her. For awhile she and Maida played "house" with the little +girls. Suddenly, Rosie tired of this game and sent the children +home. Then for a time, she frolicked with Fluff while Maida read +aloud. As suddenly as she had stopped playing "house" she +interrupted Maida. + +"Don't read any more," she commanded, "I want to talk with you." + +Maida had felt the whole afternoon that there was something on +Rosie's mind for whenever the scowl came between Rosie's eyebrows, +it meant trouble. Maida closed her book and sat waiting. + +"Maida," Rosie asked, "do you remember your mother?" + +"Oh, yes," Maida answered, "perfectly. She was very beautiful. I +could not forget her any more than a wonderful picture. She used to +come and kiss me every night before she went to dinner with papa. +She always smelled so sweet--whenever I see any flowers, I think of +her. And she wore such beautiful dresses and jewels. She loved +sparkly things, I guess--sometimes she looked like a fairy queen. +Once she had a new lace gown all made of roses of lace and she had a +diamond fastened in every rose to make it look like dew. When her +hair was down, it came to her knees. She let me brush it sometimes +with her gold brush." + +"A gold brush," Rosie said in an awed tone. + +"Yes, it was gold with her initials in diamonds on it. Papa gave her +a whole set one birthday." + +"How old were you when she died?" Rosie asked after a pause in which +her scowl grew deeper. + +"Eight." + +"What did she die of?" + +"I don't know," Maida answered. "You see I was so little that I +didn't understand about dying. I had never heard of it. They told me +one day that my mother had gone away. I used to ask every day when +she was coming back and they'd say 'next week' and 'next week' and +'next week' until one day I got so impatient that I cried. Then they +told me that my mother was living far away in a beautiful country +and she would never come back. They said that I must not cry for she +still loved me and was always watching over me. It was a great +comfort to know that and of course I never cried after that for fear +of worrying her. But at first it was very lonely. Why, Rosie--" She +stopped terrified. "What's the matter?" + +Rosie had thrown herself on the couch, and was crying bitterly. "Oh, +Maida," she sobbed, "that's exactly what they say to me when I ask +them--'next week' and 'next week' and 'next week' until I'm sick of +it. My mother is dead and I know it." + +"Oh, Rosie!" Maida protested. "Oh no, no, no--your mother is not +dead. I can't believe it. I won't believe it." + +"She is," Rosie persisted. "I know she is. Oh, what shall I do? +Think how naughty I was! What shall I do?" She sobbed so +convulsively that Maida was frightened. + +"Listen, Rosie," she said. "You don't _know_ your mother is dead. +And I for one don't believe that she is." + +"But they said the same thing to you," Rosie protested passionately. + +"I think it was because I was sick," Maida said after a moment in +which she thought the matter out. "They were afraid that I might die +if they told me the truth. But whether your mother is alive or dead, +the only way you can make up for being naughty is to be as good to +your Aunt Theresa as you can. Oh, Rosie, please go to school every +day." + +"Do you suppose I could ever hook jack again?" Rosie asked bitterly. +She dried her eyes. "I guess I'll go home now," she said, "and see +if I can help Aunt Theresa with the supper. And I'm going to get her +to teach me how to cook everything so that I can help mother--if she +ever comes home." + +The next day Rosie came into the shop with the happiest look that +she had worn for a long time. + +"I peeled the potatoes for Aunt Theresa, last night," she announced, +"and set the table and wiped the dishes. She was real surprised. She +asked me what had got into me?" + +"I'm glad," Maida approved. + +"I asked her when mother was coming back and she said the same +thing, 'Next week, I think.'" Rosie's lip quivered. + +"I think she'll come back, Rosie," Maida insisted. "And now let's +not talk any more about it. Let's come out to play." + +Mindful of her own lecture on obedience to Rosie, Maida skipped home +the first time Granny rang the bell. + +Granny met her at the door. Her eyes were shining with mischief. +"You've got a visitor," she said. Maida could see that she was +trying to keep her lips prim at the corners. She wondered who it +was. Could it be-- + +She ran into the living-room. Her father jumped up from the +easy-chair to meet her. + +"Well, well, well, Miss Rosy-Cheeks. No need to ask how you are!" he +said kissing her. + +"Oh papa, papa, I never was so happy in all my life. If you could +only be here with me all the time, there wouldn't be another thing +in the world that I wanted. Don't you think you could give up Wall +Street and come to live in this Court? You might open a shop too. +Papa, I know you'd make a good shop-keeper although it isn't so easy +as a lot of people think. But I'd teach you all I know--and, then, +it's such fun. You could have a big shop for I know just how you +like big things--just as I like little ones." + +"Buffalo" Westabrook laughed. "I may have to come to it yet but it +doesn't look like it this moment. My gracious, Posie, how you have +improved! I never would know you for the same child. Where did you +get those dimples? I never saw them in your face before. Your mother +had them, though." + +The shadow, that the mention of her mother's name always brought, +darkened his face. "How you are growing to look like her!" he said. + +Maida knew that she must not let him stay sad. "Dimples!" she +squealed. "Really, papa?" She ran over to the mirror, climbed up on +a chair and peeked in. Her face fell. "I don't see any," she said +mournfully. + +"And you're losing your limp," Mr. Westabrook said. Then catching +sight of her woe-begone face, he laughed. "That's because you've +stopped smiling, you little goose," he said. "Grin and you'll see +them." + +Obedient, Maida grinned so hard that it hurt. But the grin softened +to a smile of perfect happiness. For, sure enough, pricking through +the round of her soft, pink cheeks, were a pair of tiny hollows. + + + + + + CHAPTER XI: HALLOWEEN + + +Halloween fell on Saturday that year. That made Friday a very busy +time for Maida and the other members of the W.M.N.T. In the +afternoon, they all worked like beavers making jack-o'-lanterns of +the dozen pumpkins that Granny had ordered. Maida and Rosie and +Dicky hollowed and scraped them. Arthur did all the hard work--the +cutting out of the features, the putting-in of candle-holders. These +pumpkin lanterns were for decoration. But Maida had ordered many +paper jack-o'-lanterns for sale. The W.M.N.T.'s spent the evening +rearranging the shop. Maida went to bed so tired that she could +hardly drag one foot after the other. Granny had to undress her. + +But when the school-children came flocking in the next morning, she +felt more than repaid for her work. The shop resounded with the "Oh +mys," and "Oh looks," of their surprise and delight. + +Indeed, the room seemed full of twinkling yellow faces. Lines of +them grinned in the doorway. Rows of them smirked from the shelves. +A frieze, close-set as peas in a pod, grimaced from the molding. The +jolly-looking pumpkin jacks, that Arthur had made, were piled in a +pyramid in the window. The biggest of them all--"he looks just like +the man in the moon," Rosie said--smiled benignantly at the +passers-by from the top of the heap. Standing about everywhere among +the lanterns were groups of little paper brownies, their tiny heads +turned upwards as if, in the greatest astonishment, they were +examining these monster beings. + +The jack-o'-lanterns sold like hot cakes. As for the brownies, +"Granny, you'd think they were marching off the shelves!" Maida +said. By dark, she was diving breathlessly into her surplus stock. +At the first touch of twilight, she lighted every lantern left in +the place. Five minutes afterwards, a crowd of children had gathered +to gaze at the flaming faces in the window. Even the grown-ups +stopped to admire the effect. + +More customers came and more--a great many children whom Maida had +never seen before. By six o'clock, she had sold out her entire +stock. When she sat down to dinner that night, she was a very happy +little girl. + +"This is the best day I've had since I opened the shop," she said +contentedly. She was not tired, though. "I feel just like going to a +party to-night. Granny, can I wear my prettiest Roman sash?" + +"You can wear annyt'ing you want, my lamb," Granny said, "for 'tis +the good, busy little choild you've been this day." + +Granny dressed her according to Maida's choice, in white. A very, +simple, soft little frock, it was, with many tiny tucks made by hand +and many insertions of a beautiful, fine lace. Maida chose to wear +with it pale blue silk stockings and slippers, a sash of blue, +striped in pink and white, a string of pink Venetian beads. + +"Now, Granny, I'll read until the children call for me," she +suggested, "so I won't rumple my dress." + +But she was too excited to read. She sat for a long time at the +window, just looking out. Presently the jack-o'-lanterns, lighted +now, began to make blobs of gold in the furry darkness of the +street. She could not at first make out who held them. It was +strange to watch the fiery, grinning heads, flying, bodiless, from +place to place. But she identified the lanterns in the court by the +houses from which they emerged. The three small ones on the end at +the left meant Dicky and Molly and Tim. Two big ones, mounted on +sticks, came from across the way--Rosie and Arthur, of course. Two, +just alike, trotting side by side betrayed the Clark twins. A +baby-lantern, swinging close to the ground--that could be nobody but +Betsy. + +The crowd in the Court began to march towards the shop. For an +instant, Maida watched the spots of brilliant color dancing in her +direction. Then she slipped into her coat, and seized her own +lantern. When she came outside, the sidewalk seemed crowded with +grotesque faces, all laughing at her. + +"Just think," she said, "I have never been to a Halloween party in +my life." + +"You are the queerest thing, Maida," Rosie said in perplexity. +"You've been to Europe. You can talk French and Italian. And yet, +you've never been to a Halloween party. Did you ever hang +May-baskets?" + +Maida shook her head. + +"You wait until next May," Rosie prophesied gleefully. + +The crowd crossed over into the Court Two motionless, yellow faces, +grinning at them from the Lathrop steps, showed that Laura and +Harold had come out to meet them. On the lawn they broke into an +impromptu game of tag which the jack-o'-lanterns seemed to enjoy as +much as the children: certainly, they whizzed from place to place as +quickly and, certainly, they smiled as hard. + +The game ended, they left their lanterns on the piazza and trooped +into the house. + +"We've got to play the first games in the kitchen," Laura announced +after the coats and hats had come off and Mrs. Lathrop had greeted +them all. + +Maida wondered what sort of party it was that was held in the +kitchen but she asked no questions. Almost bursting with curiosity, +she joined the long line marching to the back of the house. + +In the middle of the kitchen floor stood a tub of water with apples +floating in it. + +"Bobbing for apples!" the children exclaimed. "Oh, that's the +greatest fun of all. Did you ever bob for apples, Maida?" + +"No." + +"Let Maida try it first, then," Laura said. "It's very easy, Maida," +she went on with twinkling eyes. "All you have to do is to kneel on +the floor, clasp your hands behind you, and pick out one of the +apples with your teeth. You'll each be allowed three minutes." + +"Oh, I can get a half a dozen in three minutes, I guess," Maida +said. + +Laura tied a big apron around Maida's waist and stood, watch in +hand. The children gathered in a circle about the tub. Maida knelt +on the floor, clasped her hands behind her and reached with a +wide-open mouth for the nearest apple. But at the first touch of her +lips, the apple bobbed away. She reached for another. That bobbed +away, too. Another and another and another--they all bobbed clean out +of her reach, no matter how delicately she touched them. That method +was unsuccessful. + +"One minute," called Laura. + +Maida could hear the children giggling at her. She tried another +scheme, making vicious little dabs at the apples. Her beads and her +hair-ribbon and one of her long curls dipped into the water. But she +only succeeded in sending the apples spinning across the tub. + +"Two minutes!" called Laura. + +"Why don't you get those half a dozen," the children jeered. "You +know you said it was so easy." + +Maida giggled too. But inwardly, she made up her mind that she would +get one of those apples if she dipped her whole head into the tub. +At last a brilliant idea occurred to her. Using her chin as a guide, +she poked a big rosy apple over against the side of the tub. Wedging +it there against another big apple, she held it tight. Then she +dropped her head a little, gave a sudden big bite and arose amidst +applause, with the apple secure between her teeth. + +After that she had the fun of watching the other children. The older +ones were adepts. In three minutes, Rosie secured four, Dicky five +and Arthur six. Rosie did not get a drop of water on her but the +boys emerged with dripping heads. The little children were not very +successful but they were more fun. Molly swallowed so much water +that she choked and had to be patted on the back. Betsy after a few +snaps of her little, rosebud mouth, seized one of the apples with +her hand, sat down on the floor and calmly ate it. But the climax +was reached when Tim Doyle suddenly lurched forward and fell +headlong into the tub. + +"I knew he'd fall in," Molly said in a matter-of-fact voice. "He +always falls into everything. I brought a dry set of clothes for +him. Come, Tim!" + +At this announcement, everybody shrieked. Molly disappeared with Tim +in the direction of Laura's bedroom. When she reappeared, sure +enough, Tim had a dry suit on. + +Next Laura ordered them to sit about the kitchen-table. She gave +each child an apple and a knife and directed him to pare the apple +without breaking the peel. If you think that is an easy thing to do, +try it. It seemed to Maida that she never would accomplish it. She +spoiled three apples before she succeeded. + +"Now take your apple-paring and form in line across the +kitchen-floor," Laura commanded. + +The flock scampered to obey her. + +"Now when I say 'Three!'" she continued, "throw the parings back +over your shoulder to the floor. If the paring makes a letter, it +will be the initial of your future husband or wife. One! _Two_! +THREE!" + +A dozen apple-parings flew to the floor. Everybody raced across the +room to examine the results. + +"Mine is B," Dicky said. + +"And mine's an O," Rosie declared, "as plain as anything. What's +yours, Maida?" + +"It's an X," Maida answered in great perplexity. "I don't believe +that there are any names beginning with X except Xenophon and +Xerxes." + +"Well, mine's as bad," Laura laughed, "it's a Z. I guess I'll be +Mrs. Zero." + +"That's nothing," Arthur laughed, "mine's an &--I can't marry anybody +named ----'and.'" + +"Well, if that isn't successful," Laura said, "there's another way +of finding out who your husband or wife's going to be. You must walk +down the cellar-stairs backwards with a candle in one hand and a +mirror in the other. You must look in the mirror all the time and, +when you get to the foot of the stairs, you will see, reflected in +it, the face of your husband or wife." + +This did not interest the little children but the big ones were wild +to try it. + +"Gracious, doesn't it sound scary?" Rosie said, her great eyes +snapping. "I love a game that's kind of spooky, don't you, Maida?" + +Maida did not answer. She was watching Harold who was sneaking out +of the room very quietly from a door at the side. + +"All right, then, Rosie," Laura caught her up, "you can go first." + +The children all crowded over to the door leading to the cellar. The +stairs were as dark as pitch. Rosie took the mirror and the candle +that Laura handed her and slipped through the opening. The little +audience listened breathless. + +They heard Rosie stumble awkwardly down the stairs, heard her pause +at the foot. Next came a moment of silence, of waiting as tense +above as below. Then came a burst of Rosie's jolly laughter. She +came running up to them, her cheeks like roses, her eyes like stars. + +They crowded around her. "What did you see?" "Tell us about it?" +they clamored. + +Rosie shook her head. "No, no, no," she maintained, "I'm not going +to tell you what I saw until you've been down yourself." + +It was Arthur's turn next. They listened again. The same thing +happened--awkward stumbling down the stairs, a pause, then a roar of +laughter. + +"Oh what did you see?" they implored when he reappeared. + +"Try it yourself!" he advised. "I'm not going to tell." + +Dicky went next. Again they all listened and to the same mysterious +doings. Dicky came back smiling but, like the others, he refused to +describe his experiences. + +Now it was Maida's turn. She took the candle and the mirror from +Dicky and plunged into the shivery darkness of the stairs. It was +doubly difficult for her to go down backwards because of her +lameness. But she finally arrived at the bottom and stood there +expectantly. It seemed a long time before anything happened. +Suddenly, she felt something stir back of her. A lighted +jack-o'-lantern came from between the folds of a curtain which hung +from the ceiling. It grinned over her shoulder at her face in the +mirror. + +Maida burst into a shriek of laughter and scrambled upstairs. "I'm +going to marry a jack-o'-lantern," she said. "My name's going to be +Mrs. Jack Pumpkin." + +"I'm going to marry Laura's sailor-doll," Rosie confessed. "My name +is Mrs. Yankee Doodle." + +"I'm going to marry Laura's big doll, Queenie," Arthur admitted. + +"And I'm going to marry Harold's Teddy-bear," Dicky said. + +After that they blew soap-bubbles and roasted apples and chestnuts, +popped corn and pulled candy at the great fireplace in the playroom. +And at Maida's request, just before they left, Laura danced for +them. + +"Will you help me to get on my costume, Maida?" Laura asked. + +"Of course," Maida said, wondering. + +"I asked you to come down here, Maida," Laura said when the two +little girls were alone, "because I wanted to tell you that I am +sorry for the way I treated you just before I got diphtheria. I told +my mother about it and she said I did those things because I was +coming down sick. She said that people are always fretty and cross +when they're not well. But I don't think it was all that. I guess I +did it on purpose just to be disagreeable. But I hope you will +excuse me." + +"Of course I will, Laura," Maida said heartily. "And I hope you will +forgive me for going so long without speaking to you. But you see I +heard," she stopped and hesitated, "things," she ended lamely. + +"Oh, I know what you heard. I said those things about you to the +W.M.N.T.'s so that they'd get back to you. I wanted to hurt your +feelings." Laura in her turn stopped and hesitated for an instant. +"I was jealous," she finally confessed in a burst. "But I want you +to understand this, Maida. I didn't believe those horrid things +myself. I always have a feeling inside when people are telling lies +and I didn't have that feeling when you were talking to me. I knew +you were telling the truth. And all the time while I was getting +well, I felt so dreadfully about it that I knew I never would be +happy again unless I told you so." + +"I did feel bad when I heard those things," Maida said, "but of +course I forgot about them when Rosie told me you were ill. Let's +forget all about it again." + +But Maida told the W.M.N.T.'s something of her talk with Laura and +the result was an invitation to Laura to join the club. It was +accepted gratefully. + +The next month went by on wings. It was a busy month although in a +way, it was an uneventful one. The weather kept clear and fine. +Little rain fell but, on the other hand, to the great disappointment +of the little people of Primrose Court, there was no snow. Maida saw +nothing of her father for business troubles kept him in New York. He +wrote constantly to her and she wrote as faithfully to him. Letters +could not quite fill the gap that his absence made. Perhaps Billy +suspected Maida's secret loneliness for he came oftener and oftener +to see her. + +One night the W.M.N.T.'s begged so hard for a story that he finally +began one called "The Crystal Ball." A wonderful thing about it was +that it was half-game and half-story. Most wonderful of all, it went +on from night to night and never showed any signs of coming to an +end. But in order to play this game-story, there were two or three +conditions to which you absolutely must submit. For instance, it +must always be played in the dark. And first, everybody must shut +his eyes tight. Billy would say in a deep voice, "Abracadabra!" and, +presto, there they all were, Maida, Rosie, Laura, Billy, Arthur and +Dicky inside the crystal ball. What people lived there and what +things happened to them can not be told here. But after an hour or +more, Billy's deepest voice would boom, "Abracadabra!" again and, +presto, there they all were again, back in the cheerful living-room. + +Maida hoped against hope that her father would come to spend +Thanksgiving with her but that, he wrote finally, was impossible. +Billy came, however, and they three enjoyed one of Granny's +delicious turkey dinners. + +"I hoped that I would have found your daughter Annie by this time, +Granny," Billy said. "I ask every Irishman I meet if he came from +Aldigarey, County Sligo or if he knows anybody who did, or if he's +ever met a pretty Irish girl by the name of Annie Flynn. But I'll +find her yet--you'll see." + +"I hope so, Misther Billy," Granny said respectfully. But Maida +thought her voice sounded as if she had no great hope. + +Dicky still continued to come for his reading-lessons, although +Maida could see that, in a month or two, he would not need a +teacher. The quiet, studious, pale little boy had become a great +favorite with Granny Flynn. + +"Sure an' Oi must be after getting over to see the poor lad's mother +some noight," she said. "'Tis a noice woman she must be wid such a +pretty-behaved little lad." + +"Oh, she is, Granny," Maida said earnestly. "I've been there once or +twice when Mrs. Dore came home early. And she's just the nicest lady +and so fond of Dicky and the baby." + +But Granny was old and very easily tired and, so, though her +intentions were of the best, she did not make this call. + +One afternoon, after Thanksgiving, Maida ran over to Dicky's to +borrow some pink tissue paper. She knocked gently. Nobody answered. +But from the room came the sound of sobbing. Maida listened. It was +Dicky's voice. At first she did not know what to do. Finally, she +opened the door and peeped in. Dicky was sitting all crumpled up, +his head resting on the table. + +"Oh, what is the matter, Dicky?" Maida asked. + +Dicky jumped. He raised his head and looked at her. His face was +swollen with crying, his eyes red and heavy. For a moment he could +not speak. Maida could see that he was ashamed of being caught in +tears, that he was trying hard to control himself. + +"It's something I heard," he replied at last. + +"What?" Maida asked. + +"Last night after I got to bed, Doc O'Brien came here to get his +bill paid. Mother thought I was asleep and asked him a whole lot of +questions. He told her that I wasn't any better and I never would be +any better. He said that I'd be a cripple for the rest of my life." + +In spite of all his efforts, Dicky's voice broke into a sob. + +"Oh Dicky, Dicky," Maida said. Better than anybody else in the +world, Maida felt that she could understand, could sympathize. "Oh, +Dicky, how sorry I am!" + +"I can't bear it," Dicky said. + +He put his head down on the table and began to sob. "I can't bear +it," he said. "Why, I thought when I grew up to be a man, I was +going to take care of mother and Delia. Instead of that, they'll be +taking care of me. What can a cripple do? Once I read about a +crippled newsboy. Do you suppose I could sell papers?" he asked with +a gleam of hope. + +"I'm sure you could," Maida said heartily, "and a great many other +things. But it may not be as bad as you think, Dicky. Dr. O'Brien +may be mistaken. You know something was wrong with me when I was +born and I did not begin to walk until a year ago. My father has +taken me to so many doctors that I'm sure he could not remember half +their names. But they all said the same thing--that I never would +walk like other children. Then a very great physician--Dr. +Greinschmidt--came from away across the sea, from Germany. He said he +could cure me and he did. I had to be operated on and--oh--I suffered +dreadfully. But you see that I'm all well now. I'm even losing my +limp. Now, I believe that Doctor Greinschmidt can cure you. The next +time my father comes home I'm going to ask him." + +Dicky had stopped crying. He was drinking down everything that she +said. "Is he still here--that doctor?" he asked. + +"No," Maida admitted sorrowfully. "But there must be doctors as good +as he somewhere. But don't you worry about it at all, Dicky. You +wait until my father sees you--he always gets everything made right." + +"When's your father coming home?" + +"I don't quite know--but I look for him any time now." + +Dicky started to set the table. "I guess I wouldn't have cried," he +said after a while, "if I could have cried last night when I first +heard it. But of course I couldn't let mother or Doc O'Brien know +that I'd heard them--it would make them feel bad. I don't want my +mother ever to know that I know it." + +After that, Maida redoubled her efforts to be nice to Dicky. She +cudgeled her brains too for new decorative schemes for his +paper-work. She asked Billy Potter to bring a whole bag of her books +from the Beacon Street house and she lent them to Dicky, a half dozen +at a time. + +Indeed, they were a very busy quartette--the W.M.N.T.'s. Rosie went +to school every day. She climbed out of her window no more at night. +She seemed to prefer helping Maida in the shop to anything else. +Arthur Duncan was equally industrious. With no Rosie to play hookey +with, he, too, was driven to attending school regularly. His leisure +hours were devoted to his whittling and wood-carving. He was always +doing kind things for Maida and Granny, bringing up the coal, +emptying the ashes, running errands. + +And so November passed into December. + + + + + + CHAPTER XII: THE FIRST SNOW + + +"Look out the window, my lamb," Granny called one morning early in +December. Maida opened her eyes, jumped obediently out of bed and +pattered across the room. There, she gave a scream of delight, +jumping up and down and clapping her hands. + +"Snow! Oh goody, goody, goody! Snow at last!" + +It looked as if the whole world had been wrapped in a blanket of the +whitest, fleeciest, shiningest wool. Sidewalks, streets, crossings +were all leveled to one smoothness. The fences were so muffled that +they had swelled to twice their size. The houses wore trim, pointy +caps on their gables. The high bushes in the yard hung to the very +ground. The low ones had become mounds. The trees looked as if they +had been packed in cotton-wool and put away for the winter. + +"And the lovely part of it is, it's still snowing," Maida exclaimed +blissfully. + +"Glory be, it'ull be a blizzard before we're t'rough wid ut," Granny +said and shivered. + +Maida dressed in the greatest excitement. Few children came in to +make purchases that morning and the lines pouring into the +schoolhouse were very shivery and much shorter than usual. At a +quarter to twelve, the one-session bell rang. When the children came +out of school at one, the snow was whirling down thicker and faster +than in the morning. A high wind came up and piled it in the most +unexpected places. Trade stopped entirely in the shop. No mother +would let her children brave so terrific a storm. + +It snowed that night and all the next morning. The second day fewer +children went to school than on the first. But at two o'clock when +the sun burst through the gray sky, the children swarmed the +streets. Shovels and brooms began to appear, snow-balls to fly, +sleigh-bells to tinkle. + +Rosie came dashing into the shop in the midst of this burst of +excitement. "I've shoveled our sidewalk," she announced +triumphantly. "Is anything wrong with me? Everybody's staring at +me." + +Maida stared too. Rosie's scarlet cape was dotted with snow, her +scarlet hat was white with it. Great flakes had caught in her long +black hair, had starred her soft brows--they hung from her very +eyelashes. Her cheeks and lips were the color of coral and her eyes +like great velvety moons. + +"You look in the glass and see what they're staring at," Maida said +slyly. Rosie went to the mirror. + +"I don't see anything the matter." + +"It's because you look so pretty, goose!" Maida exclaimed. + +Rosie always blushed and looked ashamed if anybody alluded to her +prettiness. Now she leaped to Maida's side and pretended to beat +her. + +"Stop that!" a voice called. Startled, the little girls looked up. +Billy stood in the doorway. "I've come over to make a snow-house," +he explained. + +"Oh, Billy, what things you do think of!" Maida exclaimed. "Wait +till I get Arthur and Dicky!" + +"Couldn't get many more in here, could we?" Billy commented when the +five had assembled in the "child's size" yard. "I don't know that we +could stow away another shovel. Now, first of all, you're to pile +all the snow in the yard into that corner." + +Everybody went to work. But Billy and Arthur moved so quickly with +their big shovels that Maida and Rosie and Dicky did nothing but hop +about them. Almost before they realized it, the snow-pile reached to +the top of the fence. + +"Pack it down hard," Billy commanded, "as hard as you can make it." + +Everybody scrambled to obey. For a few moments the sound of shovels +beating on the snow drowned their talk. + +"That will do for that," Billy commanded suddenly. His little force +stopped, breathless and red-cheeked. "Now I'm going to dig out the +room. I guess I'll have to do this. If you're not careful enough, +the roof will cave in. Then it's all got to be done again." + +Working very slowly, he began to hollow out the structure. After the +hole had grown big enough, he crawled into it. But in spite of his +own warning, he must have been too energetic in his movements. +Suddenly the roof came down on his head. + +Billy was on his feet in an instant, shaking the snow off as a dog +shakes off water. + +"Why, Billy, you look like a snow-man," Maida laughed. + +"I feel like one," Billy said, wiping the snow from his eyes and +from under his collar. "But don't be discouraged, my hearties, up +with it again. I'll be more careful the next time." + +They went at it again with increased interest, heaping up a mound of +snow bigger than before, beating it until it was as hard as a brick, +hollowing out inside a chamber big enough for three of them to +occupy at once. But Billy gave them no time to enjoy their new +dwelling. + +"Run into the house," was his next order, "and bring out all the +water you can carry." + +There was a wild scramble to see which would get to the sink first +but in a few moments, an orderly file emerged from the house, Arthur +with a bucket, Dicky with a basin, Rosie with the dish-pan, Maida +with a dipper. + +"Now I'm going to pour water over the house," Billy explained. "You +see if it freezes now it will last longer." Very carefully, he +sprayed it on the sides and roof, dashing it upwards on the inside +walls: + +"We might as well make it look pretty while we're about it," Billy +continued. "You children get to work and make a lot of snow-balls +the size of an orange and just as round as you can turn them out." + +This was easy work. Before Billy could say, "Jack Robinson!" four +pairs of eager hands had accumulated snow-balls enough for a sham +battle. In the meantime, Billy had decorated the doorway with two +tall, round pillars. He added a pointed roof to the house and +trimmed it with snow-balls, all along the edge. + +"Now I guess we'd better have a snow-man to live in this mansion +while we're about it," Billy suggested briskly. "Each of you roll up +an arm or a leg while I make the body." + +Billy placed the legs in the corner opposite the snow-house. He +lifted on to them the big round body which he himself had rolled. +Putting the arms on was not so easy. He worked for a long time +before he found the angle at which they would stick. + +Everybody took a hand at the head. Maida contributed some dulse for +the hair, slitting it into ribbons, which she stuck on with glue. +Rosie found a broken clothes-pin for the nose. The round, smooth +coals that Dicky discovered in the coal-hod made a pair of +expressive black eyes. Arthur cut two sets of teeth from orange peel +and inserted them in the gash that was the mouth. When the head was +set on the shoulders, Billy disappeared into the house for a moment. +He came back carrying a suit-case. "Shut your eyes, every manjack of +you," he ordered. "You're not to see what I do until it's done. If I +catch one of you peeking, I'll confine you in the snow-house for +five minutes." + +The W.M.N.T.'s shut their eyes tight and held down the lids with +resolute fingers. But they kept their ears wide open. The mysterious +work on which Billy was engaged was accompanied by the most +tantalizing noises. + +"Oh, Billy, can't I please look," Maida begged, jiggling up and +down. "I can't stand it much longer." + +"In a minute," Billy said encouragingly. The mysterious noises kept +up. "Now," Billy said suddenly. + +Four pairs of eyes leaped open. Four pairs of lips shrieked their +delight. Indeed, Maida and Rosie laughed so hard that they finally +rolled in the snow. + +Billy had put an old coat on the snow-man's body. He had put a tall +hat--Arthur called it a "stove-pipe"--on the snow-man's head. +He had put an old black pipe between the snow-man's grinning, +orange-colored teeth. Gloves hung limply from the snow-man's arm-stumps +and to one of them a cane was fastened. Billy had managed to give the +snow-man's head a cock to one side. Altogether he looked so spruce +and jovial that it was impossible not to like him. + +"Mr. Chumpleigh, ladies and gentlemen," Billy said. "Some members of +the W.M.N.T., Mr. Chumpleigh." + +And Mr. Chumpleigh, he was until--until-- + +Billy stayed that night to dinner. They had just finished eating +when an excited ring of the bell announced Rosie. + +"Oh, Granny," she said, "the boys have made a most wonderful coast +down Halliwell Street and Aunt Theresa says I can go coasting until +nine o'clock if you'll let Maida go too. I thought maybe you would, +especially if Billy comes along." + +"If Misther Billy goes, 'twill be all roight." + +"Oh, Granny," Maida said, "you dear, darling, old fairy-dame!" She +was so excited that she wriggled like a little eel all the time +Granny was bundling her into her clothes. And when she reached the +street, it seemed as if she must explode. + +A big moon, floating like a silver balloon in the sky, made the +night like day. The neighborhood sizzled with excitement for the +street and sidewalks were covered with children dragging sleds. + +"It's like the 'Pied Piper', Rosie," Maida said joyfully, "children +everywhere and all going in the same direction." + +They followed the procession up Warrington Street to where Halliwell +Street sloped down the hill. + +Billy let out a long whistle of astonishment. "Great Scott, what a +coast!" he said. + +In the middle of the street was a ribbon of ice three feet wide and +as smooth as glass. At the foot of the hill, a piled-up mound of +snow served as a buffer. + +"The boys have been working on the slide all day," Rosie said. "Did +you ever see such a nice one, Maida?" + +"I never saw any kind of a one," Maida confessed. "How did they make +it so smooth?" + +"Pouring water on it." + +"Have you never coasted before, Maida?" Billy asked. + +"Never." + +"Well, here's your chance then," said a cheerful voice back of them. +They all turned. There stood Arthur Duncan with what Maida soon +learned was a "double-runner." + +Billy examined it carefully. "Did you make it, Arthur?" + +"Yes." + +"Pretty good piece of work," Billy commented. "Want to try it, +Maida?" + +"I'm crazy to!" + +"All right. Pile on!" + +Arthur took his place in front. Rosie sat next, then Dicky, then +Maida, then Billy. + +"Hold on to Dicky," Billy instructed Maida, "and I'll hold on to +you." + +Tingling with excitement, Maida did as she was told. But it seemed +as if they would never start. But at last, she heard Billy's voice, +"On your marks. Get set! Go!" The double-runner stirred. + +It moved slowly for a moment across the level top of the street. +Then came the first slope of the hill--they plunged forward. She +heard Rosie's hysterical shriek, Dicky's vociferous cheers and +Billy's blood-curdling yells, but she herself was as silent as a +little image. They struck the second slope of the hill--then she +screamed, too. The houses on either side shot past like pictures in +the kinetoscope. She felt a rush of wind that must surely blow her +ears off. They reached the third slope of the hill--and now they had +left the earth and were sailing through the air. The next instant +the double-runner had come to rest on the bank of snow and Rosie and +she were hugging each other and saying, "Wasn't it GREAT?" + +They climbed to the top of the hill again. All the way back, Maida +watched the sleds whizzing down the coast, boys alone on sleds, +girls alone on sleds, pairs of girls, pairs of boys, one seated in +front, the other steering with a foot that trailed behind on the +ice, timid little girls who did not dare the ice but contented +themselves with sliding on the snow at either side, daring little +boys who went down lying flat on their sleds. + +At the top they were besieged with entreaties to go on the +double-runner and, as there was room enough for one more, they took a +little boy or girl with them each time. Rosie lent her sled to those +who had none. At first there were plenty of these, standing at the +top of the coast, wistfully watching the fun of more fortunate +children. But after a while it was discovered that the ice was so +smooth that almost anything could be used for coasting. The sledless +ones rushed home and reappeared with all kinds of things. One little +lad went down on a shovel and his intrepid little sister followed on +a broom. Boxes and shingles and even dish-pans began to appear. Most +reckless of all, one big fellow slid down on his two feet, landing +in a heap in the snow. + +Maida enjoyed every moment of it--even the long walks back up the +hill. Once the double-runner struck into a riderless sled that had +drifted on to the course, and was overturned immediately. Nobody was +hurt. Rosie, Dicky and Arthur were cast safely to one side in the +soft snow. But Maida and Billy were thrown, whirling, on to the ice. +Billy kept his grip on Maida and they shot down the hill, turning +round and round and round. At first Maida was a little frightened. +But when she saw that they were perfectly safe, that Billy was +making her spin about in that ridiculous fashion, she laughed so +hard that she was weak when they reached the bottom. + +"Oh, do let's do that again!" she said when she caught her breath. + +Never was such a week as followed. The cold weather kept up. +Continued storms added to the snow. For the first time in years came +four one-session days in a single week. It seemed as if Jack Frost +were on the side of the children. He would send violent flurries of +snow just before the one-session bell rang but as soon as the +children were safely on the street, the sun would come out bright as +summer. + +Every morning when Maida woke up, she would say to herself, "I +wonder how Mr. Chumpleigh is to-day." Then she would run over to the +window to see. + +Mr. Chumpleigh had become a great favorite in the neighborhood. He +was so tall that his round, happy face with its eternal orange-peel +grin could look straight over the fence to the street. The +passers-by used to stop, paralyzed by the vision. But after studying +the phenomenon, they would go laughing on their way. Occasionally a +bad boy would shy a snow-ball at the smiling countenance but Mr. +Chumpleigh was so hard-headed that nothing seemed to hurt him. In +the course of time, the "stove-pipe" became very battered and, as +the result of continued storms, one eye sank down to the middle of +his cheek. But in spite of these injuries, he continued to maintain +his genial grin. + +"Let's go out and fix Mr. Chumpleigh," Rosie would say every day. +The two little girls would brush the snow off his hat and coat, +adjust his nose and teeth, would straighten him up generally. + +After a while, Maida threw her bird-crumbs all over Mr. Chumpleigh. +Thereafter, the saucy little English sparrows ate from Mr. +Chumpleigh's hat-brim, his pipe-bowl, even his pockets. + +"Perhaps the snow will last all winter," Maida said hopefully one +day. "If it does, Mr. Chumpleigh's health will be perfect." + +"Well, perhaps, it's just as well if he goes," Rosie said sensibly; +"we haven't done a bit of work since he came." + +On Sunday the weather moderated a little. Mr. Chumpleigh bore a most +melancholy look all the afternoon as if he feared what was to come. +What was worse, he lost his nose. + +Monday morning, Maida ran to the window dreading what she might see. +But instead of the thaw she expected, a most beautiful sight spread +out before her. The weather had turned cold in the night. Everything +that had started to melt had frozen up again. The sidewalks were +liked frosted cakes. Long icicles made pretty fringes around the +roofs of the houses. The trees and bushes were glazed by a sheathing +of crystal. The sunlight playing through all this turned the world +into a heap of diamonds. + +Mr. Chumpleigh had perked up under the influence of the cold. His +manner had gained in solidity although his gaze was a little glassy. +Hopefully Maida hunted about until she found his nose. + +She replaced his old set with some new orange-peel teeth and stuck +his pipe between them. He looked quite himself. + +But, alas, the sun came out and melted the whole world. The +sidewalks trickled streams. The icicles dripped away in showers of +diamonds. The trees lost their crystal sheathing. + +In the afternoon, Mr. Chumpleigh began to droop. By night his head +was resting disconsolately on his own shoulder. When Maida looked +out the next morning, there was nothing in the corner but a mound of +snow. An old coat lay to one side. Strewn about were a hat, a pair +of gloves, a pipe and a cane. + +Mr. Chumpleigh had passed away in the night. + + + + + + CHAPTER XIII: THE FAIR + + + SAVE YOUR PENNIES + A CHRISTMAS FAIR + WILL BE HELD IN THIS SHOP + THE SATURDAY BEFORE + CHRISTMAS + DELICIOUS CANDIES MADE BY + MISS ROSIE BRINE + PAPER GOODS DESIGNED AND + EXECUTED BY + MASTER RICHARD DORE + WOOD CARVING DESIGNED AND + EXECUTED BY + MASTER ARTHUR DUNCAN + DON'T MISS IT! + +This sign hung in Maida's window for a week. Billy made it. The +lettering was red and gold. In one corner, he painted a picture of a +little boy and girl in their nightgowns peeking up a chimney-place +hung with stockings. In the other corner, the full-moon face of a +Santa Claus popped like a jolly jack-in-the-box from a chimney-top. +A troop of reindeer, dragging a sleigh full of toys, scurried +through the printing. The whole thing was enclosed in a wreath of +holly. + +The sign attracted a great deal of attention. Children were always +stopping to admire it and even grown-people paused now and then. +There was such a falling-off of Maida's trade that she guessed that +the children were really saving their pennies for the fair. This +delighted her. + +The W.M.N.T.'s wasted no time that last week in spite of a very +enticing snowstorm. Maida, of course, had nothing to do on her own +account, but she worked with Dicky, morning and afternoon. + +Rosie could not make candy until the last two or three days for fear +it would get stale. Then she set to like a little whirlwind. + +"My face is almost tanned from bending over the stove," she said to +Maida; "Aunt Theresa says if I cook another batch of candy, I'll +have a crop of freckles." + +Arthur seemed to work the hardest of all because his work was so +much more difficult. It took a great deal of time and strength and +yet nobody could help him in it. The sound of his hammering came +into Maida's room early in the morning. It came in sometimes late at +night when, cuddling between her blankets, she thought what a happy +girl she was. + +"I niver saw such foine, busy little folks," Granny said approvingly +again and again. "It moinds me av me own Annie. Niver a moment but +that lass was working at some t'ing. Oh, I wonder what she's doun' +and finking this Christmas." + +"Don't you worry," Maida always said. "Billy'll find her for you +yet--he said he would." + +Maida, herself, was giving, for the first time in her experience, a +good deal of thought to Christmas time. + +In the first place, she had sent the following invitation to every +child in Primrose Court: + +"Will you please come to my Christmas Tree to be given Christmas +Night in the 'Little Shop.' Maida." + +In the second place, she was spying on all her friends, listening to +their talk, watching them closely in work and play to find just the +right thing to give them. + +"Do you know, I never made a Christmas present in my life," she said +one day to Rosie. + +"You never made a Christmas present?" Rosie repeated. + +Maida's quick perception sensed in Rosie's face an unspoken +accusation of selfishness. + +"It wasn't because I didn't want to, Rosie dear," Maida hastened to +explain. "It was because I was too sick. You see, I was always in +bed. I was too weak to make anything and I could not go out and buy +presents as other children did. But people used to give me the +loveliest things." + +"What did they give you?" Rosie asked curiously. + +"Oh, all kinds of things. Father's given me an automobile and a pair +of Shetland ponies and a family of twenty dolls and my weight in +silver dollars. I can't remember half the things I've had." + +"A pair of Shetland ponies, an automobile, a family of twenty dolls, +your weight in silver dollars," Rosie repeated after her. "Why, +Maida, you're dreaming or you're out of your head." + +"Out of my head! Why, Rosie you're out of _your_ head. Don't you +suppose I know what I got for Christmas?" Maida's eyes began to +flash and her lips to tremble. + +"Well, now, Maida, just think of it," Rosie said in her most +reasonable voice. "Here you are a little girl just like anybody else +only you're running a shop. Now just as if you could afford to have +an automobile! Why, my father knows a man who knows another man who +bought an automobile and it cost nine hundred dollars. What did +yours cost?" + +"Two thousand dollars." Maida said this with a guilty air in spite +of her knowledge of her own truth. + +Rosie smiled roguishly. "Maida, dear," she coaxed, "you dreamed it." + +Maida started to her feet. For a moment she came near saying +something very saucy indeed. But she remembered in time. Of course +nobody in the neighborhood knew that she was "Buffalo" Westabrook's +daughter. It was impossible for her to prove any of her statements. +The flash died out of her eyes. But another flash came into her +cheeks--the flash of dimples. + +"Well, perhaps I _did_ dream it, Rosie," she said archly. "But I +don't think I did," she added in a quiet voice. + +Rosie turned the subject tactfully. "What are you going to give your +father?" she asked. + +"That's bothering me dreadfully," Maida sighed; "I can't think of +anything he needs." + +"Why don't you buy him the same thing I'm going to get my papa," +Rosie suggested eagerly. "That is, I'm going to buy it if I make +enough money at the fair. Does your father shave himself?" + +"Oh, Adolph, his valet, always shaves him," Maida answered. + +Rosie's brow knit over the word _valet_--but Maida was always +puzzling the neighborhood with strange expressions. Then her brow +lightened. "My father goes to a barber, too," she said. "I've heard +him complaining lots of times how expensive it is. And the other day +Arthur told me about a razor his father uses. He says it's just like +a lawn-mower or a carpet-sweeper. You don't have to have anybody +shave you if you have one of them. You run it right over your face +and it takes all the beard off and doesn't cut or anything. Now, +wouldn't you think that would be fun?" + +"I should think it would be just lovely," Maida agreed. "That's just +the thing for papa--for he is so busy. How much does it cost, Rosie?" + +"About a dollar, Arthur thought. I never paid so much for a +Christmas present in my life. And I'm not sure yet that I can get +one. But if I do sell two dollars worth of candy, I can buy +something perfectly beautiful for both father and mother." + +"Oh, Rosie," Maida asked breathlessly, "do you mean that your +mother's come back?" + +Rosie's face changed. "Don't you think I'd tell you that the first +thing? No, she hasn't come back and they don't say anything about +her coming back. But if she ever does come, I guess I'm going to +have her Christmas present all ready for her." + +Maida patted her hand. "She's coming back," she said; "I know it." + +Rosie sighed. "You come down Main Street the night before Christmas. +Dicky and I are going to buy our Christmas presents then and we can +show you where to get the little razor." + +"I'd love to." Maida beamed. And indeed, it seemed the most +fascinating prospect in the world to her. Every night after she went +to bed, she thought it over. She was really going to buy Christmas +presents without any grown-up person about to interfere. It was +rapture. + +The night before the fair, the children worked even harder than the +night before Halloween, for there were so many things to display. It +was evident that the stock would overflow windows and shelves and +show cases. + +"We'll bring the long kitchen table in for your things, Arthur," +Maida decided after a perplexed consideration of the subject. +"Dicky's and Rosie's things ought to go on the shelves and into the +show cases where nobody can handle them." + +They tugged the table into the shop and covered it with a beautiful +old blue counter-pane. + +"That's fine!" Arthur approved, unpacking his handicraft from the +bushel-baskets in which he brought them. + +The others stood round admiring the treasures and helping him to +arrange them prettily. A fleet of graceful little boats occupied one +end of the table, piles of bread-boards, rolling-pins and "cats," +the other. In the center lay a bowl filled with tiny baskets, carved +from peach-stones. From the molding hung a fringe of hockey-sticks. + +Having arranged all Arthur's things, the quartette filed upstairs to +the closet where Dicky's paper-work was kept. + +"Gracious, I didn't realize there were so many," Rosie said. + +"Sure, the lad has worked day and night," Granny said, patting +Dicky's thin cheek. + +They filled Arthur's baskets and trooped back to the shop. They +lined show case and shelves with the glittering things--boxes, big +and little, gorgeously ornamented with stars and moons, caps of gold +and silver, flying gay plumes, rainbow boats too beautiful to sail +on anything but fairy seas, miniature jackets and trousers that only +a circus rider would wear. + +"Dicky, I never did see anything look so lovely," Maida said, +shaking her hands with delight. "I really didn't realize how pretty +they were." + +Dicky's big eyes glowed with satisfaction. "Nor me neither," he +confessed. + +"And now," Maida said, bubbling over with suppressed importance, +"Rosie's candies--I've saved that until the last." She pulled out one +of the drawers under the show case and lifted it on to the counter. +It was filled with candy-boxes of paper, prettily decorated with +flower patterns on the outside, with fringes of lace paper on the +inside. "I ordered these boxes for you, Rosie," she explained. "I +knew your candy would sell better if it was put up nicely. I thought +the little ones could be five-cent size, the middle-sized ones +ten-cent size, and the big ones twenty-five cent size." + +Rosie was dancing up and down with delight. "They're just lovely, +Maida, and how sweet you were to think of it. But it was just like +you." + +"Now we must pack them," Maida said. + +Four pairs of hands made light work of this. By nine o'clock all the +boxes were filled and spread out temptingly in the show case. By a +quarter past nine, three of the W.M.N.T.'s were in bed trying hard +to get to sleep. But Maida stayed up. The boxes were not her only +surprise. + +After the others had gone, she and Granny worked for half an hour in +the little shop. + +The Saturday before Christmas dawned clear and fair. Rosie hallooed +for Dicky and Arthur as she came out of doors at half-past seven and +all three arrived at the shop together. Their faces took on such a +comic look of surprise that Maida burst out laughing. + +"But where did it all come from?" Rosie asked in bewilderment. +"Maida, you slyboots, you must have done all this after we left." + +Maida nodded. + +But all Arthur and Dicky said was "Gee!" and "Jiminy crickets!" But +Maida found these exclamatives quite as expressive as Rosie's hugs. +And, indeed, she herself thought the place worthy of any degree of +admiring enthusiasm. + +The shop was so strung with garlands of Christmas green that it +looked like a bower. Bunches of mistletoe and holly added their +colors to the holiday cheer. Red Christmas bells hung everywhere. + +"My goodness, I never passed such a day in my life," Maida said that +night at dinner. She was telling it all to Granny, who had been away +on mysterious business of her own. "It's been like a beehive here +ever since eight o'clock this morning. If we'd each of us had an +extra pair of hands at our knees and another at our waists, perhaps +we could have begun to wait on all the people." + +"Sure 'twas no more than you deserved for being such busy little +bees," Granny approved. + +"The only trouble was," Maida went on smilingly, "that they liked +everything so much that they could not decide which they wanted +most. Of course, the boys preferred Arthur's carvings and the girls +Rosie's candy. But it was hard to say who liked Dicky's things the +best." + +Granny twinkled with delight. She had never told Maida, but she did +not need to tell her, that Dicky was her favorite. + +"And then the grown people who came, Granny! First Arthur's father +on his way to work, then Mrs. Lathrop and Laura--they bought loads of +things, and Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Doyle and even Mr. Flanagan bought a +hockey-stick. He said," Maida dimpled with delight, "he said he +bought it to use on Arthur and Rosie if they ever hooked jack again. +Poor Miss Allison bought one of Arthur's 'cats'--what do you suppose +for?" + +Granny had no idea. + +"To wind her wool on. Then Billy came at the last minute and bought +everything that was left. And just think, Granny, there was a crowd +of little boys and girls who had stood about watching all day +without any money to spend and Billy divided among them all the +things he bought. Guess how much money they made!" + +Granny guessed three sums, and each time Maida said, triumphantly, +"More!" At last Granny had to give it up. + +"Arthur made five dollars and thirty cents. Dicky made three dollars +and eighty-seven cents. Rosie made two dollars and seventy cents." + +After dinner that night, Maida accompanied Rosie and Dicky on the +Christmas-shopping expedition. + +They went first to a big dry goods store with Dicky. They helped +Dicky to pick out a fur collar for his mother from a counter marked +conspicuously $2.98. The one they selected was of gray and brown +fur. It was Maida's opinion that it was sable and chinchilla mixed. + +Dicky's face shone with delight when at last he tucked the big round +box safely under his arm. "Just think, I've been planning to do this +for three years," he said, "and I never could have done it now if it +hadn't been for you, Maida." + +Next Dicky took the two little girls where they could buy razors. +"The kind that goes like a lawn-mower," Rosie explained to the +proprietor. The man stared hard before he showed them his stock. But +he was very kind and explained to them exactly how the wonderful +little machine worked. + +Maida noticed that Rosie examined very carefully all the things +displayed in windows and on counters. But nothing she saw seemed to +satisfy her, for she did not buy. + +"What is it, Rosie?" Maida asked after a while. + +"I'm looking for something for my mother." + +"I'll help you," Maida said. She took Rosie's hand, and, thus linked +together, the two little girls discussed everything that they saw. + +Suddenly, Rosie uttered a little cry of joy and stopped at a +jeweler's window. A tray with the label, "SOLID SILVER, $1," +overflowed with little heart-shaped pendants. + +"Mama'd love one of those," Rosie said. "She just loved things she +could hang round her neck." + +They went inside. "It's just what I want," Rosie declared. "But I +wish I had a little silver chain for it. I can't afford one though," +she concluded wistfully. + +"Oh, I know what to do," Maida said. "Buy a piece of narrow black +velvet ribbon. Once my father gave my mother a beautiful diamond +heart. Mother used to wear it on a black velvet ribbon. Afterwards +papa bought her a chain of diamonds. But she always liked the black +velvet best and so did papa and so did I. Papa said it made her neck +look whiter." + +The other three children looked curiously at Maida when she said, +"diamond heart." When she said, "string of diamonds," they looked at +each other. + +"Was that another of your dreams, Maida?" Rosie asked mischievously. + +"Dreams!" Maida repeated, firing up. But before she could say +anything that she would regret, the dimples came. "Perhaps it was a +dream," she said prettily. "But if it was, then everything's a +dream." + +"I believe every word that Maida says," Dicky protested stoutly. + +"I believe that Maida believes it," Arthur said with a smile. + +They all stopped with Rosie while she bought the black velvet ribbon +and strung the heart on it. She packed it neatly away in the glossy +box in which the jeweler had done it up. + +"If my mama doesn't come back to wear that heart, nobody else ever +will," she said passionately. "Never--never--never--unless I have a +little girl of my own some day." + +"Your mother'll come back," Maida said. + + + + + + CHAPTER XIV: CHRISTMAS HAPPENINGS + + +Maida was awakened early Christmas morning by a long, wild peal of +the bell. Before she could collect her scattered wits, she heard +Rosie's voice, "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! +Oh, Granny, won't you please let me run upstairs and wake Maida? +I've got something dreadfully important to tell her." + +Maida heard Granny's bewildered "All roight, child," heard Rosie's +rush through the living-room and then she bounded out of bed, +prickling all over with excitement. + +"Maida," Rosie called from the stairs, "wake up! I've something +wonderful to tell you." + +But Maida had guessed it. + +"I know," she cried, as Rosie burst into the room. "Your mother's +come home." + +"My mother's come home," Rosie echoed. + +The two little girls seized each other and hopped around the room in +a mad dance, Maida chanting in a deep sing-song, "Your mother's come +home!" and Rosie screaming at the top of her lungs, "My mother's +come home!" After a few moments of this, they sank exhausted on the +bed. + +"Tell me all about it," Maida gasped. "Begin at the very beginning +and don't leave anything out." + +"Well, then," Rosie began, "I will. When I went to bed last night +after leaving you, I got to thinking of my mother and pretty soon I +was so sad that I nearly cried my eyes out. Well, after a long while +I got to sleep and I guess I must have been very tired, for I didn't +wake up the way I do generally of my own accord. Aunt Theresa had to +wake me. She put on my best dress and did my hair this new way and +even let me put cologne on. I couldn't think why, because I never +dress up until afternoons. Once when I looked at her, I saw there +were tears in her eyes and, oh, Maida, it made me feel something +awful, for I thought she was going to tell me that my mother was +dead. When I came downstairs, my father hugged me and kissed me and +sat with me while I ate my breakfast. Oh, I was so afraid he was +going to tell me that mother was dead! But he didn't! After awhile, +he said, 'Your Christmas presents are all up in your mother's +bedroom, Rosie.' So I skipped up there. My father and Aunt Theresa +didn't come with me, but I noticed they stood downstairs and +listened. I opened the door." + +Rosie stopped for breath. + +"Go on," Maida entreated; "oh, do hurry." + +"Well, there, lying on the bed was my mother. Maida, I felt so queer +that I couldn't move. My feet wouldn't walk---just like in a dream. +My mother said, 'Come here, my precious little girl,' but it sounded +as if it came from way, way, way off. And Maida _then_ I could move. +I ran across the room and hugged her and kissed her until I couldn't +breathe. Then she said, 'I have a beautiful Christmas gift for you, +little daughter,' and she pulled something over towards me that lay, +all wrapped up, in a shawl on the bed. What do you think it was?" + +"I don't know. Oh, tell me, Rosie!" + +"Guess," Rosie insisted, her eyes dancing. + +"Rosie, if you don't tell me this minute, I'll pinch you." + +"It was a baby--a little baby brother." + +"A baby! Oh, Rosie!" + +The two little girls hopped about the room in another mad dance. + +"Maida, he's the darlingest baby that ever was in the whole wide +world! His name is Edward. He's only six weeks old and _he can +smile_." + +"Smile, Rosie?" + +"He can--I saw him--and sneeze!" + +"Sneeze, Rosie?" + +"That's not all," said Rosie proudly. "He can wink his eyes and +double up his fists--and--and--and a whole lot of things. There's no +doubt that he's a remarkable baby. My mother says so. And pretty +as--oh, he's prettier than any puppy I ever saw. He's a little too +pink in the face and he hasn't much hair yet--there's a funny spot in +the top of his head that goes up and down all the time that you have +to be dreadfully careful about. But he certainly is the loveliest +baby I ever saw. What do you think my mother let me do?" + +"Oh, what?" + +"She let me rock him for a moment. And I asked her if you could rock +him some day and she said you could." + +"Oh! oh!" + +"And what else do you think she's going to let me do?" + +"I can't guess. Oh, tell me quick, Rosie." + +"She says she's going to let me give him his bath Saturdays and +Sundays and wheel him out every day in his carriage." + +"Rosie," Maida said impressively, "you ought to be the happiest +little girl in the world. Think of having a baby brother for a +Christmas present. You will let me wheel him sometimes, won't you?" + +"Of course I will. I shall divide him exactly in half with you." + +"Where has your mother been all this time?" Maida asked. + +"Oh, she's been dreadfully sick in a hospital. She was sick after +the baby came to her--so sick that she couldn't even take care of +him. She said they were afraid she was going to die. But she's all +right now. Father bought her for Christmas a beautiful, long, +red-silk dress that's just to lie down in. She looks like a queen +in it, and yet she looks like a little girl, too, for her hair is done +in two braids. Her hair comes way down below her waist like your +mother's hair. And when I gave her the little silver heart, she was +so pleased with it. She put it right on and it looked sweet. She +said she would much rather wear it on a black velvet ribbon than on +a silver chain." + +"Everything's come out all right, hasn't it?" Maida said with +ecstasy. + +"I guess it has. Now I must go. I want to be sure to be there when +the baby wakes up. I asked my mother when you could see the baby, +Maida, and she said to-morrow. I can't wait to show you its feet--you +never did see such little toes in your life." + +Exciting as this event was, it was as nothing to what followed. + +Granny and Maida were still talking about Rosie's happiness when +Billy Potter suddenly came marching through the shop and into the +living-room. + +"Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" they all said +at once. + +"Granny," Billy asked immediately, "if you could have your choice of +all the Christmas gifts in the world, which one would you choose?" + +An expression of bewilderment came into Granny's bright blue eyes. + +"A Christmas gift, Misther Billy," she said in an uncertain tone; "I +cudn't t'ink of a t'ing as long as Oi can't have me little Annie wid +me." + +Maida saw Billy's eyes snap and sparkle at the word Annie. She +wondered what--Could it be possible that--She began to tremble. + +"And so you'd choose your daughter, Granny?" Billy questioned. + +"Choose my daughter. Av coorse Oi wud!" Granny stopped to stare in +astonishment at Billy. "Oh, Misther Billy, if you cud only foind +her!" She gazed imploringly at him. Billy continued to smile at her, +his eyes all "skrinkled up." Granny jumped to her feet. She seized +Billy's arm. "Oh, Misther Billy, you _have_ found her," she +quavered. + +Billy nodded. "I've found her, Granny! I told you I would and I +have. Now don't get excited. She's all right and you're all right +and everything's all right. She'll be here just as soon as you're +ready to see her." + +For a moment Maida was afraid Granny was going to faint, for she +dropped back into her chair and her eyes filled with tears. But at +Billy's last words the old fire came back to her eyes, the color to +her cheeks. "Oi want to see her at wance," she said with spirit. + +"Listen," Billy said. "Last night I happened to fall into +conversation with a young Irishman who had come to read the +gas-meter in my house. I asked him where he came from. He said, +'Aldigarey, County Sligo.' I asked him if he knew Annie Flynn. +'Sure, didn't she marry my cousin? She lives--' Well, the short of it +is that I went right over to see her, though it was late then. I +found her a widow with two children. She nearly went crazy at the +prospect of seeing her mother again, but we agreed that we must wait +until morning. We planned--oh, come in, Annie," he called suddenly. + +At his call, the shop door opened and shut. There was a rush of two +pairs of feet through the shop. In the doorway appeared a young +woman carrying a baby. Behind her came a little boy on crutches. +Granny stood like a marble statue, staring. But Maida screamed. + +Who do you suppose they were? + +They were Mrs. Dore and Delia and Dicky. + +"Oh, my mother!" Mrs. Dore said. + +"My little Annie--my little girl," Granny murmured. The tears began +to stream down her cheeks. + +Followed kissings and huggings by the dozen. Followed questions and +answers by the score. + +"And to t'ink you've been living forninst us all this time," Granny +said after the excitement had died down. She was sitting on the +couch now, with Delia asleep in her lap, Mrs. Dore on one side and +Dicky on the other. "And sure, me own hearrt was telling me the +trut' all the toime did Oi but listhen to ut--for 'twas loving this +foine little lad ivry minut av the day." She patted Dicky's head. +"And me niver seeing the baby that had me own name!" She cuddled +Delia close. "OI'm the happiest woman in the whole woide wurrld this +day." + +It was arranged that the two families were to have Christmas dinner +together. Dicky and Mrs. Dore hurried back for a few moments to +bring their turkey to the feast. + +"Granny, will you love me just the same now that you've got Dicky +and Delia?" Maida said wistfully. + +"Love you, my lamb? Sure, I'll love you all the more for 'twas +t'rough you I met Misther Billy and t'rough Misther Billy I found me +Annie. Ah, Misther Billy, 'tis the grand man you make for such a b'y +that you are!" + +"Yes, m'm," said Billy. + +When Mrs. Dore returned, mother and daughter went to work on the +dinner, while Billy and Maida and Dicky trimmed the tree. When the +door opened, they caught bits of conversation, Granny's brogue +growing thicker and thicker in her excitement, and Mrs. Dore +relapsing, under its influence, into old-country speech. At such +times, Maida noticed that Billy's eyes always "skrinkled up." + +They were just putting the finishing touches to the tree when the +window darkened suddenly. Maida looked up in surprise. And then, +"Oh, my papa's come!" she screamed; "my papa's come to my Christmas +tree after all!" + +There is so much to tell about the Christmas tree that I don't know +where to begin. + +First of all came Laura and Harold. Mrs. Lathrop stopped with them +for a moment to congratulate Mrs. Dore on finding her mother. + +"Mrs. Lathrop, permit me to introduce my father, Mr. Westabrook," +Maida said. + +Mrs. Lathrop was very gracious. "The neighborhood have accepted your +daughter as Mrs. Flynn's grandchild, Mr. Westabrook. But I guessed +the truth from the first. I believed, however, that you wished the +matter kept a secret and I have said nothing of it to anybody." + +"I thank you, madam," said "Buffalo" Westabrook, bending on her one +of his piercing scrutinies. "How ever the neighborhood accepted her, +they have given her back her health. I can never be too grateful to +them." + +Came Rosie next with a, "Oh, Maida, if you could only have seen +Edward when my mother bathed him to-night!" Came Arthur, came the +Doyles, came the Clark twins with Betsy tagging at their heels. Last +of all, to Maida's great delight, came Dr. Pierce. + +Nobody was allowed to go into the shop where the tree stood until +the last guest had arrived. But in spite of their impatience they +had a gay half hour of waiting. Billy amused them with all kinds of +games and tricks and jokes, and when he tired, Dr. Pierce, who soon +became a great favorite, took them in hand. + +Dr. Pierce sat, most of the evening, holding Betsy in his lap, +listening to her funny baby chatter and roaring at her escapades. He +took a great fancy to the Clark twins and made all manner of fun for +the children by pretending that there was only one of them. +"Goodness; how you do fly about!" he would say ruefully to Dorothy, +"An instant ago you were standing close beside me," or "How can you +be here on the couch," he would say to Mabel, "when there you are as +plain as a pikestaff standing up in the corner?" + +"What can you do about that leg, Eli?" Mr. Westabrook asked Dr. +Pierce once when Dicky swung across the room. + +"I've been thinking about that," Dr. Pierce answered briskly. "I +guess Granny and Annie will have to let me take Dicky for a while. A +few months in my hospital and he'll be jumping round here like a +frog with the toothache." + +"Oh, Dr. Pierce, do you think you can cure him?" Mrs. Dore asked, +clasping her hands. + +"Cure him!" Dr. Pierce answered with his jolliest laugh. "Of course +we can. He's not in half so bad a condition as Maida was when we +straightened her out. Greinschmidt taught us a whole bag of tricks. +Dicky could almost mend himself if he'd only stay still long enough. +Look at Maida. Would you ever think she'd been much worse than +Dicky?" + +Everybody stared hard at Maida, seated on her father's knee, and she +dimpled and blushed under the observation. She was dressed all in +white--white ribbons, white sash, white socks and shoes, the softest, +filmiest white cobweb dress. Her hair streamed loose--a cascade of +delicate, clinging ringlets of the palest gold. Her big, gray eyes, +soft with the happiness of the long day, reflected the firelight. +Her cheeks had grown round as well as pink and dimpled. + +She did not look sick. + +"Oh, Dicky," she cried, "just think, you're going to be cured. +Didn't I tell you when my father saw you, he'd fix it all right? My +father's a magician!" + +But Dicky could not answer. He was gulping furiously to keep back +the tears of delight. But he smiled his radiant smile. Billy took +everybody's attention away from him by turning an unexpected +cartwheel in the middle of the floor. + +Finally, Maida announced that it was time for the tree. They formed +in line and marched into the shop to a tune that Billy thumped out +of the silver-toned old spinet. + +I wish you could have heard the things the children said. + + ---------------------- + +The tree went close to the ceiling. Just above it, with arms +outstretched, swung a beautiful Christmas angel. Hanging from it +were all kinds of glittery, quivery, sparkly things in silver and +gold. Festooned about it were strings of pop corn and cranberries. +At every branch-tip glistened a long glass icicle. And the whole +thing was ablaze with candles and veiled in a mist of gold and +silver. + +At the foot of the tree, groups of tiny figures in painted plaster +told the whole Christmas Day story from the moment of the first +sight of the star by the shepherds who watched their flocks to the +arrival, at the manger, of the Wise Men, bearing gold, frankincense +and myrrh. + +Billy Potter disappeared for a moment and came in, presently, the +most chubby and pink-faced and blue-eyed of Santa Clauses, in purple +velvet trimmed with ermine, with long white hair and a long white +beard. + +I can't begin to name to you all the fruits of that magic tree. From +Maida, there came to Rosie a big golden cage with a pair of canary +birds, to Arthur a chest of wonderful tools, to Dicky a little +bookcase full of beautiful books, to Laura a collection of sashes +and ribbons, to Harold a long train of cars. For Molly, Betsy and +the Clark twins came so many gifts that you could hardly count them +all--dolls and dolls' wardrobes, tiny doll-houses and tinier +doll-furniture. For Tim came a sled and bicycle. + +To Maida came a wonderful set of paper boxes from Dicky, a long +necklace of carved beads from Arthur, a beautiful blank-book, with +all her candy recipes, beautifully written out, from Rosie, a warm +little pair of knitted bed-shoes from Granny, a quaint, little, +old-fashioned locket from Dr. Pierce--he said it had once belonged to +another little sick girl who died. + +From Billy came a book. Perhaps you can fancy how Maida jumped when +she read "The Crystal Ball," by William Potter, on the cover. But I +do not think you can imagine how pleased she looked when inside she +read the printed dedication, "To Petronilla." + +From her father came a beautiful miniature of her mother, painted on +ivory. The children crowded about her to see the beautiful face of +which Maida had told them so much. There was the mass of golden hair +which she had described so proudly. There, too, was a heart-shaped +pendant of diamonds, suspended from a black velvet ribbon tied close +to the white throat. + +The children looked at the picture. Then they looked at each other. + +But Maida did not notice. She was watching eagerly while Dr. Pierce +and Billy and her father opened her gifts to them. + +She was afraid they would not understand. "They're to save time, you +see, when you want to shave in a hurry," she explained. + +"Maida," her father said gravely, "that is a very thoughtful gift. +It's strange when you come to think of it, as busy a man as I am and +with all the friends I have, nobody has ever thought to give me a +safety razor." + +"I don't know how I ever managed to get along without one," Dr. +Pierce declared, his curls bobbing. + +"As for me--I shall probably save about a third of my income in the +future," Billy announced. + +All three were so pleased that they laughed for a long time. + +"I'm going to give you another Christmas present, Maida," Mr. +Westabrook said suddenly, "I'm going to give us both one--a vacation. +We're going to start for Europe, week after next." + +"Oh, papa, papa, how lovely!" Maida said. "Shall we see Venice +again? But how can I give up my little shop and my friends?" + +"Maida going away!" the children exclaimed. "Oh, dear! oh, dear!" +"But Mr. Westabrook, isn't Maida coming back again?" Rosie asked. +"How I shall miss her!" Laura chimed in. + +"Take my lamb away," Granny wailed. "Sure, she'll be tuk sick in +those woild counthries! You'll have to take me wid you, Misther +Westabrook--only--only--" She did not finish her sentence but her eyes +went anxiously to her daughter's face. + +"No, Granny, you're not to go," Mr. Westabrook said decisively; +"You're to stay right here with your daughter and her children. +You're all to run the shop and live over it. Maida's old enough and +well enough to take care of herself now. And I think she'd better +begin to take care of me as well. Don't you think so, Maida?" + +"Of course I do, papa. If you need me, I want to." + +"Mr. Westabrook," Molly broke into the conversation determinedly, +"did you ever give Maida a pair of Shetland ponies?" + +Mr. Westabrook bent on the Robin the most amused of his smiles. + +"Yes," he said. + +"And an automobile?" Tim asked. + +Mr. Westabrook turned to the Bogle. "Yes," he said, a little +puzzled. + +"And did Maida's mother have a gold brush with her initials in +diamonds on it?" Rosie asked. + +Mr. Westabrook roared. "Yes," he said. + +"And have you got twelve peacocks, two of them white?" Arthur asked. + +"Yes." + +"And has Maida a little theater of her own and a doll-house as big +as a cottage?" Laura asked. + +"Yes." + +"And did she have a May-party last year that she invited over four +hundred children to?" Harold asked. + +"Yes." + +"And did you give her her weight in silver dollars once?" Mabel +asked. + +"Yes." + +"And a family of twenty dolls?" Dorothy asked. + +"Yes, you shall see all these things when we come back," Mr. +Westabrook promised. + +"Then why did she run away?" Betsy asked solemnly. + +Everybody laughed. + +"I always said Maida was a princess in disguise," Dicky maintained, +"and now I suppose she's going back and be a princess again." + +"Dicky was the first friend I made, papa," Maida said, smiling at +her first friend. + +"But you'll come back some time, won't you, Maida?" Dicky begged. + +"Yes, Dicky," Maida answered, "_I'll_ come back." + +Yes, Maida did come back. And what fun they all have, the Little Six +in their private quarters, and the Big Six with their picnics, and +their adventures with the Gypsies, is told in _Maida's Little +House_. + + THE END + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + + THE CAROLYN WELLS BOOKS FOR GIRLS + +Fresh, spirited stories that the modern small girl will take to her +heart these well known books by a famous author have won an +important place in the field of juvenile fiction. + + THE FAMOUS "PATTY" BOOKS + +Patty Fairfield Patty at Home Patty in the City Patty's Summer Days +Patty in Paris Patty's Friend Patty's Pleasure Trip Patty's Success +Patty's Motor Car Patty's Butterfly Days Patty's Social Season +Patty's Suitors Patty's Romance Patty's Fortune Patty Blossom +Patty--Bride Patty and Azalea + + THE MARJORIE BOOKS + +Marjorie's Vacation Marjorie's Busy Days Marjorie's New Friend +Marjorie in Command Marjorie's Maytime Marjorie at Seacote + + TWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIES + +Two Little Women Two Little Women and Treasure House Two Little +Women on a Holiday + + DORRANCE SERIES + +The Dorrance Domain Dorrance Doings + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + + THE MARY JANE SERIES + By CLARA INGRAM JUDSON + + Each Volume Complete in Itself. + +Take a trip with Mary Jane. She is the heroine of this popular +series for young girls. You'll find her a charming traveling +companion. Her good nature, her abounding interest in her friends +and surroundings, and her fascinating adventures both at home and +abroad have endeared her to thousands all over the country. + +MARY JANE--HER BOOK +MARY JANE--HER VISIT +MARY JANE'S KINDERGARTEN +MARY JANE DOWN SOUTH +MARY JANE'S CITY HOME +MARY JANE IN NEW ENGLAND +MARY JANE'S COUNTRY HOME +MARY JANE AT SCHOOL +MARY JANE IN CANADA +MARY JANE'S SUMMER FUN +MARY JANE'S WINTER SPORTS +MARY JANE'S VACATION +MARY JANE IN ENGLAND +MARY JANE IN SCOTLAND +MARY JANE IN FRANCE +MARY JANE IN SWITZERLAND +MARY JANE IN ITALY +MARY JANE IN SPAIN +MARY JANE'S FRIENDS IN HOLLAND + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + + THE BEVERLY GRAY STORIES + _by_ + CLAIR BLANK + +These stories, full of the fun and thrills of college life, with an +exciting mystery in each, have unusual appeal for the modern girl. + +BEVERLY GRAY, FRESHMAN +BEVERLY GRAY, SOPHOMORE +BEVERLY GRAY, JUNIOR +BEVERLY GRAY, SENIOR +BEVERLY GRAY'S CAREER +BEVERLY GRAY ON A WORLD CRUISE +BEVERLY GRAY IN THE ORIENT +BEVERLY GRAY ON A TREASURE HUNT +BEVERLY GRAY'S RETURN +BEVERLY GRAY, REPORTER +BEVERLY GRAY'S ROMANCE + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + + MELODY LANE MYSTERY STORIES + By LILIAN GARIS + +Thrills, secrets, ghosts--adventures that will fascinate you seem to +surround pretty Carol Duncan. A vivid, plucky girl, her cleverness +at solving mysteries will captivate and thrill every mystery fan. + +THE GHOST OF MELODY LANE + Three people see the "ghost" that wanders in the grove carrying + a waxy white rose. And in the end Carol finds the rose and the + ghost too! + +THE FORBIDDEN TRAIL + Carol has several bad frights before she clears up the mystery + that keeps the family at Splatter Castle unhappy and afraid. + +THE TOWER SECRET + The winking lights from the old tower defy explanation. Had the + engaging circus family anything to do with them? + +THE WILD WARNING + What power did the strange, wild warning in the woods have over + Polly Flinders? Carol brings happiness to three families when + she solves this mystery. + +THE TERROR AT MOANING CLIFF + Carol finally tracks the uncanny "haunts" in the great, bleak + house on "moaning cliff" to their source. + +THE DRAGON OF THE HILLS + When Carol runs a tea shop for a friend, a baffling mystery + comes to her with her first customer. + +THE MYSTERY OF STINGYMAN'S ALLEY + An adorable child is left at the day nursery where Carol + works--who are all the mysterious people trying to claim her? + +THE SECRET OF THE KASHMIR SHAWL + _A sequel to _"The Wild Warning" + A shawl brought from Egypt brings with it an absorbing mystery + which Cecy, with the aid of Polly Flinders, finally solves. + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + FAIRY TALES + _and tales of wonder that + are favorites of young people the world over_ + +ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE Miss Mulock +ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES Hans Christian Andersen +AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH George MacDonald +WIND THE BLUE FAIRY BOOK Andrew Lang +ENGLISH FAIRY TALES Joseph Jacobs +GRANNY'S WONDERFUL CHAIR Frances Browne +GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES The Brothers Grimm +JAPANESE FAIRY TALES Yei Theadora Ozaki +THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE Miss Mulock +PINOCCHIO C. Collodi +THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE George MacDonald +THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN George MacDonald +THE RED FAIRY BOOK Andrew Lang +THE WATER BABIES Charles Kingsley + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + GROSSET &. DUNLAP + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Maida's Little Shop, by Inez Haynes Irwin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP *** + +***** This file should be named 17530-8.txt or 17530-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/3/17530/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Maida's Little Shop + +Author: Inez Haynes Irwin + +Release Date: January 16, 2006 [EBook #17530] + [Most recently updated: June 7, 2020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class="full"/> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 428px;"> + <img src="images/fpiece.png" width="400" alt="Illustration: Maida’s Little Shop" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr class="full"/> + +<div style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em;"> + <span style="font-size: 250%;"> + Maida’s Little Shop + </span> + <br />by<br /> + <span style="font-size: 140%;"> + Inez Haynes Irwin<br /> + </span> + <br /><br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 80%"> + Author of<br /> + MAIDA'S LITTLE HOUSE,<br /> + MAIDA'S LITTLE SCHOOL, ETC. + </span> + <br /><br /> + <div class="figcenter" style="width: 428px;"> + <img src="images/title.png" width="80" alt="Illustration: Image of Girl" title="" /> + </div> + <br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 120%"> + Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers<br /> + New York + </span> + <br /><br /> + <span style="font-size: 80%;"> + Copyright, 1909, by<br /> + B. W. HUEBSCH + </span> +</div> + +<hr class="full"/> + +<div> + <p style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em; text-align: center;"> + TO<br /> + LITTLE P. D.<br /> + FROM<br /> + BIG P. D. + </p> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> + + <p> <a name="Contents" id="Contents"></a></p> + <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 150%">Contents</span></p> + + <ul class="TOC" style="list-style-type:upper-roman;margin-left:1em;font-variant:small-caps;"> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_I">The Ride + <span class="ralign">9</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Cleaning Up + <span class="ralign">30</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_III">The First Day + <span class="ralign">49</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">The Second Day + <span class="ralign">75</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Primrose Court + <span class="ralign">98</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Two Calls + <span class="ralign">116</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Trouble + <span class="ralign">138</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">A Rainy Day + <span class="ralign">161</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Work + <span class="ralign">182</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Play + <span class="ralign">202</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Halloween + <span class="ralign">223</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">The First Snow + <span class="ralign">243</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">The Fair + <span class="ralign">259</span></a></li> + <li><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">Christmas Happenings + <span class="ralign">275</span></a></li> + </ul> + + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p style="text-align: center; font-size: 230%;">Maida’s Little Shop</p> + +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>THE RIDE</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>Four people sat in the big, shining automobile. +Three of them were men. +The fourth was a little girl. The little +girl’s name was Maida Westabrook. The +three men were “Buffalo” Westabrook, her +father, Dr. Pierce, her physician, and Billy +Potter, her friend. They were coming +from Marblehead to Boston.</p> + +<p>Maida sat in one corner of the back seat +gazing dreamily out at the whirling country. +She found it very beautiful and very curious. +They were going so fast that all the +reds and greens and yellows of the autumn +trees melted into one variegated band. A +moment later they came out on the ocean. +And now on the water side were two other +streaks of color, one a spongy blue that was +sky, another a clear shining blue that was +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +sea. Maida half-shut her eyes and the +whole world seemed to flash by in ribbons.</p> + +<p>“May I get out for a moment, papa?” she +asked suddenly in a thin little voice. “I’d +like to watch the waves.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” her father answered briskly. +To the chauffeur he said, “Stop here, Henri.” +To Maida, “Stay as long as you want, +Posie.”</p> + +<p>“Posie” was Mr. Westabrook’s pet-name +for Maida.</p> + +<p>Billy Potter jumped out and helped Maida +to the ground. The three men watched her +limp to the sea-wall.</p> + +<p>She was a child whom you would have noticed +anywhere because of her luminous, +strangely-quiet, gray eyes and because of +the ethereal look given to her face by a floating +mass of hair, pale-gold and tendrilly. +And yet I think you would have known that +she was a sick little girl at the first glance. +When she moved, it was with a great slowness +as if everything tired her. She was +so thin that her hands were like claws and +her cheeks scooped in instead of out. She +was pale, too, and somehow her eyes looked +too big. Perhaps this was because her little +heart-shaped face seemed too small. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You’ve got to find something that will +take up her mind, Jerome,” Dr. Pierce said, +lowering his voice, “and you’ve got to be +quick about it. Just what Greinschmidt +feared has come—that languor—that lack of +interest in everything. You’ve got to find +something for her to <span style="font-style: italic">do</span>.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Pierce spoke seriously. He was a +round, short man, just exactly as long any +one way as any other. He had springy gray +curls all over his head and a nose like a +button. Maida thought that he looked like +a very old but a very jolly and lovable baby. +When he laughed—and he was always +laughing with Maida—he shook all over like +jelly that has been turned out of a jar. His +very curls bobbed. But it seemed to Maida +that no matter how hard he chuckled, his +eyes were always serious when they rested +on her.</p> + +<p>Maida was very fond of Dr. Pierce. She +had known him all her life. He had gone +to college with her father. He had taken +care of her health ever since Dr. Greinschmidt +left. Dr. Greinschmidt was the +great physician who had come all the way +across the ocean from Germany to make +Maida well. Before the operation Maida +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +could not walk. Now she could walk easily. +Ever since she could remember she had always +added to her prayers at night a special +request that she might some day be like +other little girls. Now she was like other +little girls, except that she limped. And yet +now that she could do all the things that +other little girls did, she no longer cared to +do them—not even hopping and skipping, +which she had always expected would be the +greatest fun in the world. Maida herself +thought this very strange.</p> + +<p>“But what can I find for her to do?” +“Buffalo” Westabrook said.</p> + +<p>You could tell from the way he asked this +question that he was not accustomed to take +advice from other people. Indeed, he did +not look it. But he looked his name. You +would know at once why the cartoonists always +represented him with the head of a +buffalo; why, gradually, people had forgotten +that his first name was Jerome and referred +to him always as “Buffalo” Westabrook.</p> + +<p>Like the buffalo, his head was big and +powerful and emerged from the midst of a +shaggy mane. But it was the way in which +it was set on his tremendous shoulders that +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +gave him his nickname. When he spoke to +you, he looked as if he were about to charge. +And the glance of his eyes, set far back of a +huge nose, cut through you like a pair of +knives.</p> + +<p>It surprised Maida very much when she +found that people stood in awe of her father. +It had never occurred to her to be afraid of +him.</p> + +<p>“I’ve racked my brains to entertain her,” +“Buffalo” Westabrook went on. “I’ve +bought her every gimcrack that’s made for +children—her nursery looks like a toy factory. +I’ve bought her prize ponies, prize +dogs and prize cats—rabbits, guinea-pigs, +dancing mice, talking parrots, marmosets—there’s +a young menagerie at the place in the +Adirondacks. I’ve had a doll-house and a +little theater built for her at Pride’s. She +has her own carriage, her own automobile, +her own railroad car. She can have her own +flying-machine if she wants it. I’ve taken +her off on trips. I’ve taken her to the +theater and the circus. I’ve had all kinds of +nurses and governesses and companions, but +they’ve been mostly failures. Granny +Flynn’s the best of the hired people, but of +course Granny’s old. I’ve had other children +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +come to stay with her. Selfish little +brutes they all turned out to be! They’d +play with her toys and ignore her completely. +And this fall I brought her to Boston, +hoping her cousins would rouse her. +But the Fairfaxes decided suddenly to go +abroad this winter. If she’d only express a +desire for something, I’d get it for her—if +it were one of the moons of Jupiter.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t anything you can <span style="font-style: italic">give</span> her,” Dr. +Pierce said impatiently; “you must find +something for her to <span style="font-style: italic">do</span>.”</p> + +<p>“Say, Billy, you’re an observant little +duck. Can’t you tell us what’s the matter?” +“Buffalo” Westabrook smiled down +at the third man of the party.</p> + +<p>“The trouble with the child,” Billy Potter +said promptly, “is that everything she’s +had has been ‘prize.’ Not that it’s spoiled +her at all. Petronilla is as simple as a +princess in a fairy-tale.”</p> + +<p>“Petronilla” was Billy Potter’s pet-name +for Maida.</p> + +<p>“Yes, she’s wonderfully simple,” Dr. +Pierce agreed. “Poor little thing, she’s +lived in a world of bottles and splints and +bandages. She’s never had a chance to realize +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +either the value or the worthlessness of +things.”</p> + +<p>“And then,” Billy went on, “nobody’s +ever used an ounce of imagination in entertaining +the poor child.”</p> + +<p>“Imagination!” “Buffalo” Westabrook +growled. “What has imagination to do +with it?”</p> + +<p>Billy grinned.</p> + +<p>Next to her father and Granny Flynn, +Maida loved Billy Potter better than anybody +in the world. He was so little that she +could never decide whether he was a boy or a +man. His chubby, dimply face was the +pinkest she had ever seen. From it twinkled +a pair of blue eyes the merriest she had +ever seen. And falling continually down +into his eyes was a great mass of flaxen hair, +the most tousled she had ever seen.</p> + +<p>Billy Potter lived in New York. He +earned his living by writing for newspapers +and magazines. Whenever there was a fuss +in Wall Street—and the papers always +blamed “Buffalo” Westabrook if this happened—Billy +Potter would have a talk with +Maida’s father. Then he wrote up what +Mr. Westabrook said and it was printed +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +somewhere. Men who wrote for the newspapers +were always trying to talk with Mr. +Westabrook. Few of them ever got the +chance. But “Buffalo” Westabrook never +refused to talk with Billy Potter. Indeed, +the two men were great friends.</p> + +<p>“He’s one of the few reporters who can +turn out a good story and tell it straight as +I give it to him,” Maida had once heard her +father say. Maida knew that Billy could +turn out good stories—he had turned out a +great many for her.</p> + +<p>“What has imagination to do with it?” +Mr. Westabrook repeated.</p> + +<p>“It would have a great deal to do with it, +I fancy,” Billy Potter answered, “if somebody +would only imagine the right thing.”</p> + +<p>“Well, imagine it yourself,” Mr. Westabrook +snarled. “Imagination seems to be +the chief stock-in-trade of you newspaper +men.”</p> + +<p>Billy grinned. When Billy smiled, two +things happened—one to you and the other +to him. Your spirits went up and his eyes +seemed to disappear. Maida said that Billy’s +eyes “skrinkled up.” The effect was so +comic that she always laughed—not with +him but at him. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>“All right,” Billy agreed pleasantly; “I’ll +put the greatest creative mind of the century +to work on the job.”</p> + +<p>“You put it to work at once, young man,” +Dr. Pierce said. “The thing I’m trying to +impress on you both is that you can’t wait +too long.”</p> + +<p>“Buffalo” Westabrook stirred uneasily. +His fierce, blue eyes retreated behind the +frown in his thick brows until all you could +see were two shining points. He watched +Maida closely as she limped back to the car. +“What are you thinking of, Posie?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing, father,” Maida said, smiling +faintly. This was the answer she gave most +often to her father’s questions. “Is there +anything you want, Posie?” he was sure to +ask every morning, or, “What would you +like me to get you to-day, little daughter?” +The answer was invariable, given always in +the same soft, thin little voice: “Nothing, +father—thank you.”</p> + +<p>“Where are we now, Jerome?” Dr. Pierce +asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>Mr. Westabrook looked about him. “Getting +towards Revere.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s go home through Charlestown,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +Dr. Pierce suggested. “How would you +like to see the house where I was born, +Maida—that old place on Warrington Street +I told you about yesterday. I think you’d +like it, Pinkwink.”</p> + +<p>“Pinkwink” was Dr. Pierce’s pet-name +for Maida.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’d love to see it.” A little thrill of +pleasure sparkled in Maida’s flat tones. +“I’d just love to.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Pierce gave some directions to the +chauffeur.</p> + +<p>For fifteen minutes or more the men +talked business. They had come away from +the sea and the streams of yellow and red +and green trees. Maida pillowed her head +on the cushions and stared fixedly at the +passing streets. But her little face wore a +dreamy, withdrawn look as if she were seeing +something very far away. Whenever +“Buffalo” Westabrook’s glance shot her +way, his thick brows pulled together into the +frown that most people dreaded to face.</p> + +<p>“Now down the hill and then to the left,” +Dr. Pierce instructed Henri.</p> + +<p>Warrington Street was wide and old-fashioned. +Big elms marching in a double +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +file between the fine old houses, met in an +arch above their roofs. At intervals along +the curbstones were hitching-posts of iron, +most of them supporting the head of a horse +with a ring in his nose. One, the statue of +a negro boy with his arms lifted above his +head, seemed to beg the honor of holding the +reins. Beside these hitching-posts were +rectangular blocks of granite—stepping-stones +for horseback riders and carriage +folk.</p> + +<p>“There, Pinkwink,” Dr. Pierce said; +“that old house on the corner—stop here, +Henri, please—that’s where I was brought +up. The old swing used to hang from that +tree and it was from that big bough stretching +over the fence that I fell and broke my +arm.”</p> + +<p>Maida’s eyes brightened. “And there’s +the garret window where the squirrels used +to come in,” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“The same!” Dr. Pierce laughed. “You +don’t forget anything, do you? My goodness +me! How small the house looks and +how narrow the street has grown! Even +the trees aren’t as tall as they should be.”</p> + +<p>Maida stared. The trees looked very +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +high indeed to her. And she thought the +street quite wide enough for anybody, the +houses very stately.</p> + +<p>“Now show me the school,” she begged.</p> + +<p>“Just a block or two, Henri,” Dr. Pierce +directed.</p> + +<p>The car stopped in front of a low, rambling +wooden building with a yard in +front.</p> + +<p>“That’s where you covered the ceiling +with spit-balls,” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“The same!” Dr. Pierce laughed heartily +at the remembrance. It seemed to Maida +that she had never seen his curls bob quite +so furiously before.</p> + +<p>“It’s one of the few wooden, primary +buildings left in the city,” he explained to +the two men. “It can’t last many years +now. It’s nothing but a rat-trap but how I +shall hate to see it go!”</p> + +<p>Opposite the school was a big, wide court. +Shaded with beautiful trees—maples beginning +to flame, horse-chestnuts a little +browned, it was lined with wooden toy +houses, set back of fenced-in yards and +veiled by climbing vines. Pigeons were flying +about, alighting now and then to peck +at the ground or to preen their green and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +purple necks. Boys were spinning tops. +Girls were jumping rope. The dust they +kicked up had a sweet, earthy smell +in Maida’s nostrils. As she stared, charmed +with the picture, a little girl in a scarlet cape +and a scarlet hat came climbing up over one +of the fences. Quick, active as a squirrel, +she disappeared into the next yard.</p> + +<p>“Primrose Court!” Dr. Pierce exclaimed. +“Well, well, well!”</p> + +<p>“Primrose Court,” Maida repeated. +“Do primroses grow there?”</p> + +<p>“Bless your heart, no,” Dr. Pierce +laughed; “it was named after a man called +Primrose who used to own a great deal of +the neighborhood.”</p> + +<p>But Maida was scarcely listening. “Oh, +what a cunning little shop!” she exclaimed. +“There, opposite the court. What a perfectly +darling little place!”</p> + +<p>“Good Lord! that’s Connors’,” Dr. Pierce +explained. “Many a reckless penny I’ve +squandered there, my dear. Connors was +the funniest, old, bent, dried-up man. I +wonder who keeps it now.”</p> + +<p>As if in answer to his question, a wrinkled +old lady came to the window to take a paper-doll +from the dusty display there. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What are those yellow things in that +glass jar?” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“Pickled limes,” Dr. Pierce responded +promptly. “How I used to love them!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, father, buy me a pickled lime,” +Maida pleaded. “I never had one in my +life and I’ve been crazy to taste one ever +since I read ‘Little Women.’”</p> + +<p>“All right,” Mr. Westabrook said. +“Let’s come in and treat Maida to a pickled +lime.”</p> + +<p>A bell rang discordantly as they opened +the door. Its prolonged clangor finally +brought the old lady from the room at the +back. She looked in surprise at the three +men in their automobile coats and at the +little lame girl.</p> + +<p>Coming in from the bright sunshine, the +shop seemed unpleasantly dark to Maida. +After a while she saw that its two windows +gave it light enough but that it was very +confused, cluttery and dusty.</p> + +<p>Mr. Westabrook bought four pickled +limes and everybody ate—three of them +with enjoyment, Billy with many wry faces +and a decided, “Stung!” after the first +taste.</p> + +<p>“I like pickled limes,” Maida said after +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +they had started for Boston. “What a +funny little place that was! Oh, how I +would like to keep a little shop just like it.”</p> + +<p>Billy Potter started. For a moment it +seemed as if he were about to speak. But +instead, he stared hard at Maida, falling +gradually into a brown study. From time +to time he came out of it long enough to +look sharply at her. The sparkle had all +gone out of her face. She was pale and +dream-absorbed again.</p> + +<p>Her father studied her with increasing +anxiety as they neared the big house on +Beacon Street. Dr. Pierce’s face was shadowed +too.</p> + +<p>“Eureka! I’ve found it!” Billy exclaimed +as they swept past the State House. +“I’ve got it, Mr. Westabrook.”</p> + +<p>“Got what?”</p> + +<p>Billy did not answer at once. The automobile +had stopped in front of a big red-brick +house. Over the beautifully fluted +columns that held up the porch hung a brilliant +red vine. Lavender-colored glass, +here and there in the windows, made purple +patches on the lace of the curtains.</p> + +<p>“Got what?” Mr. Westabrook repeated +impatiently. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That little job of the imagination that +you put me on a few moments ago,” Billy +answered mysteriously. “In a moment,” +he added with a significant look at Maida. +“You stay too, Dr. Pierce. I want your +approval.”</p> + +<p>The door of the beautiful old house had +opened and a man in livery came out to +assist Maida. On the threshold stood an +old silver-haired woman in a black-silk +gown, a white cap and apron, a little black +shawl pinned about her shoulders.</p> + +<p>“How’s my lamb?” she asked tenderly +of Maida.</p> + +<p>“Oh, pretty well,” Maida said dully. +“Oh, Granny,” she added with a sudden +flare of enthusiasm, “I saw the cunningest +little shop. I think I’d rather tend shop +than do anything else in the world.”</p> + +<p>Billy Potter smiled all over his pink face. +He followed Mr. Westabrook and Dr. +Pierce into the drawing-room.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Maida went upstairs with Granny Flynn.</p> + +<p>Granny Flynn had come straight to the +Westabrook house from the boat that +brought her from Ireland years ago. She +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +had come to America in search of a runaway +daughter but she had never found her. +She had helped to nurse Maida’s mother +in the illness of which she died and she had +always taken such care of Maida herself +that Maida loved her dearly. Sometimes +when they were alone, Maida would call her +“Dame,” because, she said, “Granny looks +just like the ‘Dame’ who comes into fairy-tales.”</p> + +<p>Granny Flynn was very little, very bent, +very old. “A t’ousand and noine, sure,” +she always answered when Maida asked her +how old. Her skin had cracked into a hundred +wrinkles and her long sharp nose and +her short sharp chin almost met. But the +wrinkles surrounded a pair of eyes that +were a twinkling, youthful blue. And her +down-turned nose and up-growing chin +could not conceal or mar the lovely sweetness +of her smile.</p> + +<p>Just before Maida went to bed that night, +she was surprised by a visit from her father.</p> + +<p>“Posie,” he said, sitting down on her bed, +“did you really mean it to-day when you +said you would like to keep a little shop?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, father! I’ve been thinking it +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +over ever since I came home from our ride +this afternoon. A little shop, you know, +just like the one we saw to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, dear, you shall keep a shop. +You shall keep that very one. I’m going +to buy out the business for you and put +you in charge there. I’ve got to be in New +York pretty steadily for the next three +months and I’ve decided that I’ll send you +and Granny to live in the rooms over the +shop. I’ll fix the place all up for you, give +you plenty of money to stock it and then I +expect you to run it and make it pay.”</p> + +<p>Maida sat up in bed with a vigor that +surprised her father. She shook her hands—a +gesture that, with her, meant great delight. +She laughed. It was the first time +in months that a happy note had pealed in +her laughter. “Oh, father, dear, how good +you are to me! I’m just crazy to try it and +I know I can make it pay—if hard work +helps.”</p> + +<p>“All right. That’s settled. But listen +carefully to what I’m going to say, Posie. +I can’t have this getting into the papers, +you know. To prevent that, you’re to play +a game while you’re working in the shop—just +as princesses in fairy-tales had to play +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +games sometimes. You’re going <span style="font-style: italic">in disguise</span>. +Do you understand?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, father, I understand.”</p> + +<p>“You’re to pretend that you belong to +Granny Flynn, that you’re her grandchild. +You won’t have to tell any lies about it. +When the children in the neighborhood hear +you call her ‘Granny,’ they’ll simply take +it for granted that you’re her son’s child.</p> + +<p>“Or I can pretend I’m poor Granny’s +lost daughter’s little girl,” Maida suggested.</p> + +<p>“If you wish. Billy Potter’s going to +stay here in Boston and help you. You’re +to call on him, Posie, if you get into any +snarl. But I hope you’ll try to settle all +your own difficulties before turning to anybody +else. Do you understand?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, father. Father, dear, I’m so +happy. Does Granny know?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Maida heaved an ecstatic sigh. “I’m +afraid I shan’t get to sleep to-night—just +thinking of it.”</p> + +<p>But she did sleep and very hard—the best +sleep she had known since her operation. +And she dreamed that she opened a shop—a +big shop this was—on the top of a huge +white cloud. She dreamed that her customers +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +were all little boy and girl angels with +floating, golden curls and shining rainbow-colored +wings. She dreamed that she sold +nothing but cake. She used to cut generous +slices from an angel-cake as big as the +golden dome of the Boston state house. +It was very delicious—all honey and jelly +and ice cream on the inside, and all frosting, +stuck with candies and nuts and fruits, +on the outside.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The people on Warrington Street were +surprised to learn in the course of a few +days that old Mrs. Murdock had sold out +her business in the little corner store. For +over a week, the little place was shut up. +The school children, pouring into the street +twice a day, had to go to Main Street for +their candy and lead pencils. For a long +time all the curtains were kept down. +Something was going on inside, but what, +could not be guessed from the outside. +Wagons deposited all kinds of things at the +door, rolls of paper, tins of paint, furniture, +big wooden boxes whose contents nobody +could guess. Every day brought more and +more workmen and the more there were, the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +harder they worked. Then, as suddenly as +it had begun, all the work stopped.</p> + +<p>The next morning when the neighborhood +waked up, a freshly-painted sign had taken +the place over the door of the dingy old +black and white one. The lettering was +gilt, the background a skyey blue. It read:</p> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.44em; font-size: 125%; "> +MAIDA’S LITTLE SHOP +<br /><br /></p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>CLEANING UP</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>The next two weeks were the busiest +Maida ever knew.</p> + +<p>In the first place she must see Mrs. Murdock +and talk things over. In the second +place, she must examine all the stock that +Mrs. Murdock left. In the third place, she +must order new stock from the wholesale +places. And in the fourth place, the rooms +must be made ready for her and Granny to +live in. It was hard work, but it was great +fun.</p> + +<p>First, Mrs. Murdock called, at Billy’s request, +at his rooms on Mount Vernon Street. +Granny and Maida were there to meet her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Murdock was a tall, thin, erect old +lady. Her bright black eyes were piercing +enough, but it seemed to Maida that the +round-glassed spectacles, through which she +examined them all, were even more so.</p> + +<p>“I’ve made out a list of things for the +shop that I’m all out of,” she began briskly. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +“You’ll know what the rest is from what’s +left on the shelves. Now about buying—there’s +a wagon comes round once a month +and I’ve told them to keep right on a-coming +even though I ain’t there. They’ll sell +you your candy, pickles, pickled limes and +all sich stuff. You’ll have to buy your toys +in Boston—your paper, pens, pencils, rubbers +and the like also, but not at the same +places where you git the toys. I’ve put all +the addresses down on the list. I don’t see +how you can make any mistakes.”</p> + +<p>“How long will it take you to get out +of the shop?” Billy asked.</p> + +<p>Maida knew that Billy enjoyed Mrs. Murdock, +for often, when he looked at that lady, +his eyes “skrinkled up,” although there was +not a smile on his face.</p> + +<p>“A week is all I need,” Mrs. Murdock +declared. “If it worn’t for other folks who +are keeping me waiting, I’d have that hull +place fixed as clean as a whistle in two shakes +of a lamb’s tail. Now I’ll put a price on +everything, so’s you won’t be bothered what +to charge. There’s some things I don’t +ever git, because folks buy too many of them +and it’s sich an everlasting bother keeping +them in stock. But you’re young and spry, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +and maybe you won’t mind jumping about +for every Tom, Dick and Harry. But, remember,” +she added in parting, “don’t git +expensive things. Folks in that neighborhood +ain’t got no money to fool away. Git +as many things as you can for a cent a-piece. +Git some for five and less for ten +and nothing for over a quarter. But you +must allus callulate to buy some things to +lose money on. I mean the truck you put +in the window jess to make folks look in. +It gits dusty and fly-specked before you +know it and there’s an end on it. I allus +send them to the Home for Little Wanderers +at Christmas time.”</p> + +<p>Early one morning, a week later, a party +of three—Granny Flynn, Billy and Maida—walked +up Beacon Street and across the +common to the subway. Maida had never +walked so far in her life. But her father +had told her that if she wanted to keep the +shop, she must give up her carriage and her +automobile. That was not hard. She was +willing to give up anything that she owned +for the little shop.</p> + +<p>They left the car at City Square in +Charlestown and walked the rest of the way. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +It was Saturday, a brilliant morning in a +beautiful autumn. All the children in the +neighborhood were out playing. Maida +looked at each one of them as she passed. +They seemed as wonderful as fairy beings +to her—for would they not all be her customers +soon? And yet, such was her excitement, +she could not remember one face after +she had passed it. A single picture remained +in her mind—a picture of a little +girl standing alone in the middle of the +court. Black-haired, black-eyed, a vivid +spot of color in a scarlet cape and a scarlet +hat, the child was scattering bread-crumbs +to a flock of pigeons. The pigeons did not +seem afraid of her. They flew close to her +feet. One even alighted on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>“It makes me think of St. Mark’s in Venice,” +Maida said to Billy.</p> + +<p>But, little girl—scarlet cape—flocks of +doves—St. Mark’s, all went out of her head +entirely when she unlocked the door of the +little shop.</p> + +<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” she cried, “how nice and +clean it looks!”</p> + +<p>The shop seemed even larger than she remembered +it. The confused, dusty, cluttery +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +look had gone. But with its dull paint and +its blackened ceiling, it still seemed dark +and dingy.</p> + +<p>Maida ran behind the counter, peeped into +the show cases, poked her head into the window, +drew out the drawers that lined the +wall, pulled covers from the boxes on the +shelves. There is no knowing where her investigations +would have ended if Billy had +not said:</p> + +<p>“See here, Miss Curiosity, we can’t put +in the whole morning on the shop. This is +a preliminary tour of investigation. Come +and see the rest of it. This way to the +living-room!”</p> + +<p>The living-room led from the shop—a big +square room, empty now, of course. Maida +limped over to the window. “Oh, oh, oh!” +she cried; “did you ever see such a darling +little yard?”</p> + +<p>“It surely is little,” Billy agreed, “not +much bigger than a pocket handkerchief, is +it?”</p> + +<p>And yet, scrap of a place as the yard was, +it had an air of completeness, a pretty +quaintness. Two tiny brick walks curved +from the door to the gate. On either side +of these spread out microscopic flower-beds, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +crowded tight with plants. Late-blooming +dahlias and asters made spots of starry color +in the green. A vine, running over the door +to the second story, waved like a crimson +banner dropped from the window.</p> + +<p>“The old lady must have been fond of +flowers,” Billy Potter said. He squinted +his near-sighted blue eyes and studied the +bunches of green. “Syringa bush in one +corner. Lilac bush in the other. Nasturtiums +at the edges. Morning-glories running +up the fence. Sunflowers in between. +My, won’t it be fun to see them all racing +up in the spring!”</p> + +<p>Maida jumped up and down at the +thought. She could not jump like other +children. Indeed, this was the first time +that she had ever tried. It was as if her +feet were like flat-irons. Granny Flynn +turned quickly away and Billy bit his lips.</p> + +<p>“I know just how I’m going to fix this +room up for you, Petronilla,” Billy said, +nodding his head mysteriously. “Now let’s +go into the kitchen.”</p> + +<p>The kitchen led from the living-room. +Billy exclaimed when he saw it and Maida +shook her hands, but it was Granny who +actually screamed with delight. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p>Much bigger than the living-room, it had +four windows with sunshine pouring in +through every one of them. But it was not +the four windows nor yet the sunshine that +made the sensation—it was the stone floor.</p> + +<p>“We’ll put a carpet on it if you think it’s +too cold, Granny,” Billy suggested immediately.</p> + +<p>“Oh, lave it be, Misther Billy,” Granny +begged. “’Tis loike me ould home in Oireland. +Sure ’tis homesick Oi am this very +minut looking at ut.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” Billy agreed cheerfully. +“What you say goes, Granny. Now upstairs +to the sleeping-rooms.”</p> + +<p>To get to the second floor they climbed +a little stairway not more than three feet +wide, with steps very high, most of them +triangular in shape because the stairway +had to turn so often. And upstairs—after +they got there—consisted of three rooms, +two big and square and light, and one +smaller and darker.</p> + +<p>“The small room is to be made into a +bathroom,” Billy explained, “and these two +big ones are to be your bedrooms. Which +one will you have, Maida?”</p> + +<p>Maida examined both rooms carefully. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +“Well, I don’t care for myself which I +have,” she said. “But it does seem as if +there were a teeny-weeny more sun in this +one. I think Granny ought to have it, for +she loves the sunshine on her old bones. +You know, Billy, Granny and I have the +greatest fun about our bones. Hers are all +wrong because they’re so old, and mine are +all wrong because they’re so young.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” Billy agreed. “Sunshiny +one for Granny, shady one for you. That’s +settled! I hope you realize, Miss Maida, +Elizabeth, Fairfax, Petronilla, Pinkwink, +Posie Westabrook what perfectly bully +rooms these are! They’re as old as Noah.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad they’re old,” Maida said. +“But of course they must be. This house +was here when Dr. Pierce was a little boy. +And that must have been a long, long, long +time ago.”</p> + +<p>“Just look at the floors,” Billy went on +admiringly. “See how uneven they are. +You’ll have to walk straight here, Petronilla, +to keep from falling down. That +old wooden wainscoting is simply charming. +That’s a nice old fireplace too. And +these old doors are perfect.”</p> + +<p>Granny Flynn was working the latch of +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +one of the old doors with her wrinkled +hands. “Manny’s the toime Oi’ve snibbed +a latch loike that in Oireland,” she said, and +she smiled so hard that her very wrinkles +seemed to twinkle.</p> + +<p>“And look at the windows, Granny,” +Billy said. “Sixteen panes of glass each. +I hope you’ll make Petronilla wash them.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Granny, will you let me wash the +windows?” Maida asked ecstatically.</p> + +<p>“When you’re grand and sthrong,” +Granny promised.</p> + +<p>“I know just how I’ll furnish the room,” +Billy said half to himself.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy, tell me!” Maida begged.</p> + +<p>“Can’t,” he protested mischievously. +“You’ve got to wait till it’s all finished before +you see hide or hair of it.”</p> + +<p>“I know I’ll die of curiosity,” Maida protested. +“But then of course I shall be very +busy with my own business.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes,” Billy replied. “Now that +you’ve embarked on a mercantile career, +Miss Westabrook, I think you’ll find that +you’ll have less and less time for the decorative +side of life.”</p> + +<p>Billy spoke so seriously that most little +girls would have been awed by his manner. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +But Maida recognized the tone that he always +employed when he was joking her. +Beside, his eyes were all “skrinkled up.” +She did not quite understand what the joke +was, but she smiled back at him.</p> + +<p>“Now can we look at the things downstairs?” +she pleaded.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Billy assented. “To-day is a +very important day. Behind locked doors +and sealed windows, we’re going to take account +of stock.”</p> + +<p>Granny Flynn remained in the bedrooms +to make all kinds of mysterious measurements, +to open and shut doors, to examine +closets, to try window-sashes, even to poke +her head up the chimney.</p> + +<p>Downstairs, Billy and Maida opened +boxes and boxes and boxes and drawers and +drawers and drawers. Every one of these +had been carefully gone over by the conscientious +Mrs. Murdock. Two boxes bulged +with toys, too broken or soiled to be of any +use. These they threw into the ash-barrel +at once. What was left they dumped on +the floor. Maida and Billy sat down beside +the heap and examined the things, one by +one. Maida had never seen such toys in her +life—so cheap and yet so amusing. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was hard work to keep to business with +such enchanting temptation to play all about +them. Billy insisted on spinning every top—he +got five going at once—on blowing every +balloon—he produced such dreadful +wails of agony that Granny came running +downstairs in great alarm—on jumping +with every jump-rope—the short ones +tripped him up and once he sprawled headlong—on +playing jackstones—Maida beat +him easily at this—on playing marbles—with +a piece of crayon he drew a ring on the +floor—on looking through all the books—he +declared that he was going to buy some little +penny-pamphlet fairy-tales as soon as he +could save the money. But in spite of all +this fooling, they really accomplished a +great deal.</p> + +<p>They found very few eatables—candy, +fruit, or the like. Mrs. Murdock had wisely +sold out this perishable stock. One glass +jar, however, was crammed full of what +Billy recognized to be “bulls-eyes”—round +lumps of candy as big as plums and as hard +as stones. Billy said that he loved bulls-eyes +better than terrapin or broiled live +lobster, that he had not tasted one since he +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +was “half-past ten.” For the rest of the +day, one of his cheeks stuck out as if he had +the toothache.</p> + +<p>They came across all kinds of odds and +ends—lead pencils, blank-books, an old slate +pencil wrapped in gold paper which Billy +insisted on using to draw pictures on a +slate—he made this squeak so that Maida +clapped her hands over her ears. They +found single pieces from sets of miniature +furniture, a great many dolls, rag-dolls, +china dolls, celluloid dolls, the latest bisque +beauties, and two old-fashioned waxen darlings +whose features had all run together +from being left in too great a heat.</p> + +<p>They went through all these things, sorting +them into heaps which they afterwards +placed in boxes. At noon, Billy went out +and bought lunch. Still squatting on the +floor, the three of them ate sandwiches and +drank milk. Granny said that Maida had +never eaten so much at one meal.</p> + +<p>All this happened on Saturday. Maida +did not see the little shop again until it was +finished.</p> + +<p>By Monday the place was as busy as a +beehive. Men were putting in a furnace, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +putting in a telephone, putting in a bathroom, +whitening the plaster, painting the +woodwork.</p> + +<p>Finally came two days of waiting for the +paint to dry. “Will it ever, <span style="font-style: italic">ever</span>, EVER +dry?” Maida used to ask Billy in the most +despairing of voices.</p> + +<p>By Thursday, the rooms were ready for +their second coat of paint.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy, do tell me what color it +is—I +can’t wait to see it,” Maida begged.</p> + +<p>But, “Sky-blue-pink” was all she got +from Billy.</p> + +<p>Saturday the furniture came.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Maida had been going +to all the principal wholesale places in Boston +picking out new stock. Granny Flynn +accompanied her or stayed at home, according +to the way she felt, but Billy never +missed a trip.</p> + +<p>Maida enjoyed this tremendously, although +often she had to go to bed before +dark. She said it was the responsibility +that tired her.</p> + +<p>To Maida, these big wholesale places +seemed like the storehouses of Santa Claus. +In reality they were great halls, lined with +parallel rows of counters. The counters +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +were covered with boxes and the boxes were +filled with toys. Along the aisles between +the counters moved crowds of buyers, busily +examining the display.</p> + +<p>It was particularly hard for Maida to +choose, because she was limited by price. +She kept recalling Mrs. Murdock’s advice, +“Get as many things as you can for a cent +a-piece.” The expensive toys tempted her, +but although she often stopped and looked +them wistfully over, she always ended by +going to the cheaper counters.</p> + +<p>“You ought to be thinking how you’ll decorate +the windows for your first day’s sale,” +Billy advised her. “You must make it look +as tempting as possible. I think, myself, +it’s always a good plan to display the toys +that go with the season.”</p> + +<p>Maida thought of this a great deal after +she went to bed at night. By the end of the +week, she could see in imagination just how +her windows were going to look.</p> + +<p>Saturday night, Billy told her that everything +was ready, that she should see the +completed house Monday morning. It +seemed to Maida that the Sunday coming +in between was the longest day that she had +ever known. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>When she unlocked the door to the shop, +the next morning, she let out a little squeal +of joy. “Oh, I would never know it,” she +declared. “How much bigger it looks, and +lighter and prettier!”</p> + +<p>Indeed, you would never have known the +place yourself. The ceiling had been whitened. +The faded drab woodwork had been +painted white. The walls had been colored +a beautiful soft yellow. Back of the counter +a series of shelves, glassed in by sliding +doors, ran the whole length of the wall and +nearly to the ceiling. Behind the show case +stood a comfortable, cushioned swivel-chair.</p> + +<p>“The stuff you’ve been buying, Petronilla,” +Billy said, pointing to a big pile of +boxes in the corner. “Now, while Granny +and I are putting some last touches to the +rooms upstairs, you might be arranging the +window.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I planned to do,” +Maida said, bubbling with importance. +“But you promise not to interrupt me till +it’s all done.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” Billy agreed, smiling peculiarly. +He continued to smile as he opened +the boxes.</p> + +<p>It did not occur to Maida to ask them +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +what they were going to do upstairs. It did +not occur to her even to go up there. From +time to time, she heard Granny and Billy +laughing. “One of Billy’s jokes,” she said +to herself. Once she thought she heard the +chirp of a bird, but she would not leave her +work to find out what it was.</p> + +<p>When the twelve o’clock whistle blew, she +called to Granny and to Billy to come to +see the results of her morning’s labor.</p> + +<p>“I say!” Billy emitted a long loud whistle.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do you like it?” Maida asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>“It’s a grand piece of work, Petronilla,” +Billy said heartily.</p> + +<p>The window certainly struck the key-note +of the season. Tops of all sizes and colors +were arranged in pretty patterns in the middle. +Marbles of all kinds from the ten-for-a-cent +“peeweezers” up to the most beautiful, +colored “agates” were displayed at the +sides. Jump-ropes of variegated colors +with handles, brilliantly painted, were festooned +at the back. One of the window +shelves had been furnished like a tiny room. +A whole family of dolls sat about on the +tiny sofas and chairs. On the other shelf +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +lay neat piles of blank-books and paper-blocks, +with files of pens, pencils, and rubbers +arranged in a decorative pattern surrounding +them all.</p> + +<p>In the show case, fresh candies had been +laid out carefully on saucers and platters +of glass. On the counter was a big, flowered +bowl.</p> + +<p>“To-morrow, I’m going to fill that bowl +with asters,” Maida explained.</p> + +<p>“OI’m sure the choild has done foine,” +Granny Flynn said, “Oi cudn’t have done +betther mesilf.”</p> + +<p>“Now come and look at your rooms, Petronilla,” +Billy begged, his eyes dancing.</p> + +<p>Maida opened the door leading into the +living-room. Then she squealed her delight, +not once, but continuously, like a very +happy little pig.</p> + +<p>The room was as changed as if some good +fairy had waved a magic wand there. All +the woodwork had turned a glistening white. +The wall paper blossomed with garlands +of red roses, tied with snoods of red ribbons. +At each of the three windows waved +sash curtains of a snowy muslin. At each +of the three sashes hung a golden cage with +a pair of golden canaries in it. Along each +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +of the three sills marched pots of brilliantly-blooming +scarlet geraniums. A fire +spluttered and sparkled in the fireplace, and +drawn up in front of it was a big easy chair +for Granny, and a small easy one for Maida. +Familiar things lay about, too. In one corner +gleamed the cheerful face of the tall old +clock which marked the hours with so silvery +a voice and the moon-changes by such pretty +pictures. In another corner shone the polished +surface of a spidery-legged little +spinet. Maida loved both these things almost +as much as if they had been human beings, +for her mother and her grandmother +and her great-grandmother had loved them +before her. Needed things caught her eyes +everywhere. Here was a little bookcase +with all her favorite books. There was a +desk, stocked with business-like-looking +blank-books. Even the familiar table with +Granny’s “Book of Saints” stood near +the easy chair. Granny’s spectacles lay +on an open page, familiarly marking the +place. </p> + +<p>In the center of the room stood a table set +for three.</p> + +<p>“It’s just the dearest place,” Maida said. +“Billy, you’ve remembered everything. I +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +thought I heard a bird peep once, but I was +too busy to think about it.”</p> + +<p>“Want to go upstairs?” Billy asked.</p> + +<p>“I’d forgotten all about bedrooms.” +Maida flew up the stairs as if she had never +known a crutch.</p> + +<p>The two bedrooms were very simple, all +white—woodwork, furniture, beds, even the +fur rugs on the floor. But they were wonderfully +gay from the beautiful paper that +Billy had selected. In Granny’s room, the +walls imitated a flowered chintz. But in +Maida’s room every panel was different. +And they all helped to tell the same happy +story of a day’s hunting in the time when +men wore long feathered hats on their curls, +when ladies dressed like pictures and all +carried falcons on their wrists.</p> + +<p>“Granny, Granny,” Maida called down to +them, “Did you ever see any place in all +your life that felt so <span style="font-style: italic">homey</span>?”</p> + +<p>“I guess it will do,” Billy said in an undertone.</p> + +<p>That night, for the first time, Maida slept +in the room over the little shop.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>THE FIRST DAY</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>If you had gone into the little shop the +next day, you would have seen a very +pretty picture.</p> + +<p>First of all, I think you would have noticed +the little girl who sat behind the +counter—a little girl in a simple blue-serge +dress and a fresh white “tire”—a little girl +with shining excited eyes and masses of +pale-gold hair, clinging in tendrilly rings +about a thin, heart-shaped face—a little +girl who kept saying as she turned round +and round in her swivel-chair:</p> + +<p>“Oh, Granny, do you think <span style="font-style: italic">anybody’s</span> +going to buy <span style="font-style: italic">anything</span> to-day?”</p> + +<p>Next I think you would have noticed an +old woman who kept coming to the living-room +door—an old woman in a black gown +and a white apron so stiffly starched that it +rattled when it touched anything—an old +woman with twinkling blue eyes and hair, +enclosing, as in a silver frame, a little +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +carved nut of a face—an old woman who +kept soothing the little girl with a cheery:</p> + +<p>“Now joost you be patient, my lamb, sure +somebody’ll be here soon.”</p> + +<p>The shop was unchanged since yesterday, +except for a big bowl of asters, red, white +and blue.</p> + +<p>“Three cheers for the red, white and +blue,” Maida sang when she arranged them. +She had been singing at intervals ever since. +Suddenly the latch slipped. The bell rang.</p> + +<p>Maida jumped. Then she sat so still in +her high chair that you would have thought +she had turned to stone. But her eyes, +glued to the moving door, had a look as if +she did not know what to expect.</p> + +<p>The door swung wide. A young man entered. +It was Billy Potter.</p> + +<p>He walked over to the show case, his hat +in his hand. And all the time he looked +Maida straight in the eye. But you would +have thought he had never seen her before.</p> + +<p>“Please, mum,” he asked humbly, “do +you sell fairy-tales here?”</p> + +<p>Maida saw at once that it was one of +Billy’s games. She had to bite her lips to +keep from laughing. “Yes,” she said, when +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +she had made her mouth quite firm. “How +much do you want to pay for them?”</p> + +<p>“Not more than a penny each, mum,” he +replied.</p> + +<p>Maida took out of a drawer the pamphlet-tales +that Billy had liked so much.</p> + +<p>“Are these what you want?” she asked. +But before he could answer, she added in a +condescending tone, “Do you know how to +read, little boy?”</p> + +<p>Billy’s face twitched suddenly and his +eyes “skrinkled up.” Maida saw with a +mischievous delight that he, in his turn, was +trying to keep the laughter back.</p> + +<p>“Yes, mum,” he said, making his face +quite serious again. “My teacher says I’m +the best reader in the room.”</p> + +<p>He took up the little books and looked +them over. “‘The Three Boars’—no,‘Bears,’” +he corrected himself. “‘Puss-in-Boats’—no, ‘Boots’; +‘Jack-and-the-Bean-Scalp’—no,‘Stalk’; +‘Jack the Joint-Cooler’—no, ‘Giant-Killer’; +‘Cinderella,’ ‘Bluebird’—no, ‘Bluebeard’; +‘Little Toody-Goo-Shoes’—no, ‘Little Goody-Two-Shoes’; +‘Tom Thumb,’ ‘The Sweeping Beauty,’— +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +‘The Babes in the Wood.’ I guess I’ll take these ten, mum.”</p> + +<p>He felt in all his pockets, one after another. +After a long time, he brought out +some pennies, “One, two, three, four, five, +six, seven, eight, nine, ten,” he counted +slowly.</p> + +<p>He took the books, turned and left the +shop. Maida watched him in astonishment. +Was he really going for good?</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the little bell tinkled a +second time and there stood Billy again.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Petronilla,” he said +pleasantly, as if he had not seen her before +that morning, “How’s business?”</p> + +<p>“Fine!” Maida responded promptly. +“I’ve just sold ten fairy books to the funniest +little boy you ever saw.”</p> + +<p>“My stars and garters!” Billy exclaimed. +“Business surely is brisk. Keep that up +and you can afford to have a cat. I’ve +brought you something.”</p> + +<p>He opened the bag he carried and took a +box out from it. “Hold out your two +hands,—it’s heavy,” he warned.</p> + +<p>In spite of his preparation, the box +nearly fell to the floor—it was so much +heavier than Maida expected. “What can +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +be in it?” she cried excitedly. She pulled +the cover off—then murmured a little “oh!” +of delight.</p> + +<p>The box was full—cram-jam full—of pennies; +pennies so new that they looked like +gold—pennies so many that they looked like +a fortune.</p> + +<p>“Gracious, what pretty money!” Maida +exclaimed. “There must be a million +here.”</p> + +<p>“Five hundred,” Billy corrected her.</p> + +<p>He put some tiny cylindrical rolls of +paper on the counter. Maida handled them +curiously—they, too, were heavy.</p> + +<p>“Open them,” Billy commanded.</p> + +<p>Maida pulled the papers away from the +tops. Bright new dimes fell out of one, +bright new nickels came from the other.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m so glad to have nice clean +money,” Maida said in a satisfied tone. +She emptied the money drawer and filled +its pockets with the shining coins. “It was +very kind of you to think of it, Billy. I +know it will please the children.” The +thought made her eyes sparkle.</p> + +<p>The bell rang again. Billy went out to +talk with Granny, leaving Maida alone to +cope with her first strange customer. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>Again her heart began to jump into her +throat. Her mouth felt dry on the inside. +She watched the door, fascinated.</p> + +<p>On the threshold two little girls were +standing. They were exactly of the same +size, they were dressed in exactly the same +way, their faces were as alike as two peas +in a pod. Maida saw at once that they were +twins. They had little round, chubby +bodies, bulging out of red sweaters; little +round, chubby faces, emerging from tall, +peaky, red-worsted caps. They had big +round eyes as expressionless as glass beads +and big round golden curls as stiff as candles. +They stared so hard at Maida that she +began to wonder nervously if her face were +dirty.</p> + +<p>“Come in, little girls,” she called.</p> + +<p>The little girls pattered over to the show +case and looked in. But their big round +eyes, instead of examining the candy, kept +peering up through the glass top at Maida. +And Maida kept peering down through it at +them.</p> + +<p>“I want to buy some candy for a cent,” +one of them whispered in a timid little +voice.</p> + +<p>“I want to buy some candy for a cent, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +too,” the other whispered in a voice, even +more timid.</p> + +<p>“All the cent candy is in this case,” Maida +explained, smiling.</p> + +<p>“What are you going to have, Dorothy?” +one of them asked.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. What are you going to +have, Mabel?” the other answered. They +discussed everything in the one-cent case. +Always they talked in whispers. And they +continued to look more often at Maida than +at the candy.</p> + +<p>“Have you anything two-for-a-cent?” +Mabel whispered finally.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes—all the candy in this corner.”</p> + +<p>The two little girls studied the corner +Maida indicated. For two or three moments +they whispered together. At one +point, it looked as if they would each buy +a long stick of peppermint, at another, a +paper of lozenges. But they changed their +minds a great many times. And in the end, +Dorothy bought two large pickles and Mabel +bought two large chocolates. Maida saw +them swapping their purchases as they went +out.</p> + +<p>The two pennies which the twins handed +her were still moist from the hot little hands +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +that had held them. Maida dropped them +into an empty pocket in the money drawer. +She felt as if she wanted to keep her first +earnings forever. It seemed to her that she +had never seen such <span style="font-style: italic">precious-looking</span> money. +The gold eagles which her father had given +her at Christmas and on her birthday did +not seem half so valuable.</p> + +<p>But she did not have much time to think +of all this. The bell rang again. This time +it was a boy—a big fellow of about fourteen, +she guessed, an untidy-looking boy with +large, intent black eyes. A mass of black +hair, which surely had not been combed, fell +about a face that as certainly had not been +washed that morning.</p> + +<p>“Give me one of those blue tops in the +window,” he said gruffly. He did not add +these words but his manner seemed to say, +“And be quick about it!” He threw his +money down on the counter so hard that +one of the pennies spun off into a corner.</p> + +<p>He did not offer to pick the penny up. +He did not even apologize. And he looked +very carefully at the top Maida handed him +as if he expected her to cheat him. Then he +walked out.</p> + +<p>It was getting towards school-time. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +Children seemed to spring up everywhere +as if they grew out of the ground. The +quiet streets began to ring with the cries of +boys playing tag, leap frog and prisoners’ +base. The little girls, much more quiet, +squatted in groups on doorsteps or walked +slowly up and down, arm-in-arm. But +Maida had little time to watch this picture. +The bell was ringing every minute now. +Once there were six children in the little +shop together.</p> + +<p>“Do you need any help?” Granny called.</p> + +<p>“No, Granny, not yet,” Maida answered +cheerfully.</p> + +<p>But just the same, she did have to hurry. +The children asked her for all kinds of +things and sometimes she could not remember +where she had put them. When in answer +to the school bell the long lines began +to form at the big doorways, two round red +spots were glowing in Maida’s cheeks. She +drew an involuntary sigh of relief when she +realized that she was going to have a chance +to rest. But first she counted the money +she had taken in. Thirty-seven cents! It +seemed a great deal to her.</p> + +<p>For an hour or more, nobody entered the +shop. Billy left in a little while for Boston. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +Granny, crooning an old Irish song, +busied herself upstairs in her bedroom. +Maida sat back in her chair, dreaming +happily of her work. Suddenly the bell +tinkled, rousing her with a start.</p> + +<p>It seemed a long time after the bell rang +before the door opened. But at last Maida +saw the reason of the delay. The little boy +who stood on the threshold was lame. +Maida would have known that he was +sick even if she had not seen the crutches +that held him up, or the iron cage that confined +one leg.</p> + +<p>His face was as colorless as if it had been +made of melted wax. His forehead was +lined almost as if he were old. A tired expression +in his eyes showed that he did not +sleep like other children. He must often +suffer, too—his mouth had a drawn look +that Maida knew well.</p> + +<p>The little boy moved slowly over to the +counter. It could hardly be said that he +walked. He seemed to swing between his +crutches exactly as a pendulum swings in a +tall clock. Perhaps he saw the sympathy +that ran from Maida’s warm heart to her +pale face, for before he spoke he smiled. +And when he smiled you could not possibly +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +think of him as sick or sad. The corners +of his mouth and the corners of his eyes +seemed to fly up together. It made your +spirits leap just to look at him.</p> + +<p>“I’d like a sheet of red tissue paper,” he +said briskly.</p> + +<p>Maida’s happy expression changed. It +was the first time that anybody had asked +her for anything which she did not have.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I haven’t any,” she said regretfully.</p> + +<p>The boy looked disappointed. He started +to go away. Then he turned hopefully. +“Mrs. Murdock always kept her tissue paper +in that drawer there,” he said, pointing.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I do remember,” Maida exclaimed. +She recalled now a few sheets +of tissue paper that she had left there, not +knowing what to do with them. She pulled +the drawer open. There they were, neatly +folded, as she had left them.</p> + +<p>“What did Mrs. Murdock charge for +it?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“A cent a sheet.”</p> + +<p>Maida thought busily. “I’m selling out +all the old stock,” she said. “You can +have all that’s left for a cent if you want +it.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Sure!” the boy exclaimed. “Jiminy +crickets! That’s a stroke of luck I wasn’t +expecting.”</p> + +<p>He spread the half dozen sheets out on +the counter and ran through them. He +looked up into Maida’s face as if he wanted +to thank her but did not know how to put +it. Instead, he stared about the shop. +“Say,” he exclaimed, “you’ve made this +store look grand. I’d never know it for the +same place. And your sign’s a crackajack.”</p> + +<p>The praise—the first she had had from +outside—pleased Maida. It emboldened +her to go on with the conversation.</p> + +<p>“You don’t go to school,” she said.</p> + +<p>The moment she had spoken, she regretted +it. It was plain to be seen, she reproached +herself inwardly, why he did not +go to school.</p> + +<p>“No,” the boy said soberly. “I can’t go +yet. Doc O’Brien says I can go next year, +he thinks. I’m wild to go. The other fellows +hate school but I love it. I s’pose it’s +because I can’t go that I want to. But, +then, I want to learn to read. A fellow can +have a good time anywhere if he knows +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +how to read. I can read some,” he added +in a shamed tone, “but not much. The +trouble is I don’t have anybody to listen +and help with the hard words.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, let me help you!” Maida cried. “I +can read as easy as anything.” This was +the second thing she regretted saying. For +when she came to think of it, she could not +see where she was going to have much time +to herself.</p> + +<p>But the little lame boy shook his head. +“Can’t,” he said decidedly. “You see, I’m +busy at home all day long and you’ll be +busy here. My mother works out and I +have to do most of the housework and take +care of the baby. Pretty slow work on +crutches, you know—although it’s easy +enough getting round after you get the hang +of it. No, I really don’t have any time to +fool until evenings.”</p> + +<p>“Evenings!” Maida exclaimed electrically. +“Why, that’s just the right time! +You see I’m pretty busy myself during the +daytime—at my business.” Her voice grew +a little important on that last phrase. +“Granny! Granny!” she called.</p> + +<p>Granny Flynn appeared in the doorway. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +Her eyes grew soft with pity when they +fell on the little lame boy. “The poor little +gossoon!” she murmured.</p> + +<p>“Granny,” Maida explained, “this little +boy can’t go to school because his mother +works all day and he has to do the housework +and take care of the baby, too, and he +wants to learn to read because he thinks he +won’t be half so lonely with books, and you +know, Granny, that’s perfectly true, for I +never suffered half so much with my legs +after I learned to read.”</p> + +<p>It had all poured out in an uninterrupted +stream. She had to stop here to get breath.</p> + +<p>“Now, Granny, what I want you to do is +to let me hear him read evenings until he +learns how. You see his mother comes +home then and he can leave the baby with +her. Oh, do let me do it, Granny! I’m sure +I could. And I really think you ought to. +For, if you’ll excuse me for saying so, +Granny, I don’t think you can understand +as well as I do what a difference it will +make.” She turned to the boy. “Have +you read ‘Little Men’ and ‘Little Women’?”</p> + +<p>“No—why, I’m only in the first reader.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll read them to you,” Maida said decisively, +“and ‘Treasure Island’ and ‘The +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +Princes and the Goblins’ and ‘The Princess +and Curdie.’” She reeled off the long list +of her favorites.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Granny was considering +the matter. Dr. Pierce had said to her of +Maida: “Let her do anything that she +wants to do—as long as it doesn’t interfere +with her eating and sleeping. The main +thing to do is to get her <span style="font-style: italic">to want to do +things</span>.”</p> + +<p>“What’s your name, my lad?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Dicky Dore, ma’am,” the boy answered +respectfully.</p> + +<p>“Well, Oi don’t see why you shouldn’t +thry ut, acushla,” she said to Maida. “A +half an hour iv’ry avening after dinner. +Sure, in a wake, ’twill be foine and grand +we’ll be wid the little store running like a +clock.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll begin next week, Monday,” Maida +said eagerly. “You come over here right +after dinner.”</p> + +<p>“All right.” The little lame boy looked +very happy but, again, he did not seem to +know what to say. “Thank you, ma’am,” +he brought out finally. “And you, too,” +turning to Maida.</p> + +<p>“My name’s Maida.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Thank you, Maida,” the boy said with +even a greater display of bashfulness. He +settled the crutches under his thin shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t go, yet,” Maida pleaded. “I +want to ask you some questions. Tell me +the names of those dear little girls—the +twins.”</p> + +<p>Dicky Dore smiled his radiant smile. +“Their last name’s Clark. Say, ain’t they +the dead ringers for each other? I can’t +tell Dorothy from Mabel or Mabel from +Dorothy.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t, either,” Maida laughed. “It +must be fun to be a twin—to have any kind +of a sister or brother. Who’s that big boy—the +one with the hair all hanging down on +his face?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s Arthur Duncan.” Dicky’s +whole face shone. “He’s a dandy. He can +lick any boy of his size in the neighborhood. +I bet he could lick any boy of his size in the +world. I bet he could lick his weight in +wild-cats.”</p> + +<p>Maida’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t like +him,” she said. “He’s not polite.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I like him,” Dicky Dore maintained +stoutly. “He’s the best friend I’ve +got anywhere. Arthur hasn’t any mother, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +and his father’s gone all day. He takes +care of himself. He comes over to my place +a lot. You’ll like him when you know +him.”</p> + +<p>The bell tinkling on his departure did not +ring again till noon. But Maida did not +mind.</p> + +<p>“Granny,” she said after Dicky left, “I +think I’ve made a friend. Not a friend +somebody’s brought to me—but a friend of +my very own. Just think of that!”</p> + +<p>At twelve, Maida watched the children +pour out of the little schoolhouse and disappear +in all directions. At two, she watched +them reappear from all directions and pour +into it again. But between those hours she +was so busy that she did not have time to +eat her lunch until school began again. +After that, she sat undisturbed for an hour.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the afternoon, the bell +rang with an important-sounding tinkle. +Immediately after, the door shut with an +important-sounding slam. The footsteps, +clattering across the room to the show case, +had an important-sounding tap. And the +little girl, who looked inquisitively across +the counter at Maida, had decidedly an important +manner. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>She was not a pretty child. Her skin was +too pasty, her blue eyes too full and staring. +But she had beautiful braids of glossy +brown hair that came below her waist. +And you would have noticed her at once because +of the air with which she wore her +clothes and because of a trick of holding her +head very high.</p> + +<p>Maida could see that she was dressed very +much more expensively than the other children +in the neighborhood. Her dark, blue +coat was elaborate with straps and bright +buttons. Her pale-blue beaver hat was covered +with pale-blue feathers. She wore a +gold ring with a turquoise in it, a silver +bracelet with a monogram on it, a little gun-metal +watch pinned to her coat with a gun-metal +pin, and a long string of blue beads +from which dangled a locket.</p> + +<p>Maida noticed all this decoration with +envy, for she herself was never permitted +to wear jewelry. Occasionally, Granny +would let her wear one string from a big box +of bead necklaces which Maida had bought +in Venice.</p> + +<p>“How much is that candy?” the girl +asked, pointing to one of the trays.</p> + +<p>Maida told her. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Dear me, haven’t you anything better +than that?”</p> + +<p>Maida gave her all her prices.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid there’s nothing good enough +here,” the little girl went on disdainfully. +“My mother won’t let me eat cheap candy. +Generally, she has a box sent over twice a +week from Boston. But the one we expected +to-day didn’t come.”</p> + +<p>“The little girl likes to make people think +that she has nicer things than anybody +else,” Maida thought. She started to +speak. If she had permitted herself to go +on, she would have said: “The candy in +this shop is quite good enough for any little +girl. But I won’t sell it to you, anyway.” +But, instead, she said as quietly as she could: +“No, I don’t believe there’s anything here +that you’ll care for. But I’m sure you’ll +find lots of expensive candy on Main +Street.”</p> + +<p>The little girl evidently was not expecting +that answer. She lingered, still looking +into the show case. “I guess I’ll take +five cents’ worth of peppermints,” she said +finally. Some of the importance had gone +out of her voice.</p> + +<p>Maida put the candy into a bag and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +handed it to her without speaking. The +girl bustled towards the door. Half-way, +she stopped and came back.</p> + +<p>“My name is Laura Lathrop,” she said. +“What’s yours?”</p> + +<p>“Maida.”</p> + +<p>“Maida?” the girl repeated questioningly. +“Maida?—oh, yes, I know—Maida +Flynn. Where did you live before you +came here?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, lots of places.”</p> + +<p>“But where?” Laura persisted.</p> + +<p>“Boston, New York, Newport, Pride’s +Crossing, the Adirondacks, Europe.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my! Have you been to Europe?” +Laura’s tone was a little incredulous.</p> + +<p>“I lived abroad a year.”</p> + +<p>“Can you speak French?”</p> + +<p>“Oui, Mademoiselle, je parle Français un +peu.”</p> + +<p>“Say some more,” Laura demanded.</p> + +<p>Maida smiled. “Un, deux, trois, quatre, +cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix, onze, +douze—”</p> + +<p>Laura looked impressed. “Do you speak +any other language?”</p> + +<p>“Italian and German—a very little.”</p> + +<p>Laura stared hard at her and her look +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +was full of question. But it was evident +that she decided to believe Maida.</p> + +<p>“I live in Primrose Court,” she said, and +now there was not a shadow of condescension +left in her voice. “That large house +at the back with the big lawn about it. I’d +like to have you come and play with me +some afternoon. I’m very busy most of the +time, though. I take music and fancy +dancing and elocution. Next winter, I’m +going to take up French. I’ll send you +word some afternoon when I have time to +play.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” Maida said in her most +civil voice. “Come and play with me sometime,” +she added after a pause.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my mother doesn’t let me play in +other children’s houses,” Laura said airily. +“Good-bye.”</p> + +<p>“Good-bye,” Maida answered.</p> + +<p>She waited until Laura had disappeared +into the court. “Granny,” she called impetuously, +“a little girl’s been here who I +think is the hatefullest, horridest, disagreeablest +thing I ever saw in my life.”</p> + +<p>“Why, what did the choild do?” Granny +asked in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Do?” Maida repeated. “She did everything. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +Why, she—she—” She interrupted +herself to think hard a moment. “Well, +it’s the queerest thing. I can’t tell +you a thing she did, Granny, and yet, all +the time she was here I wanted to slap +her.”</p> + +<p>“There’s manny folks that-a-way,” said +Granny. “The woisest way is to take no +notuce av ut.”</p> + +<p>“Take no notice of it!” Maida stormed. +“It’s just like not taking any notice of a +bee when it’s stinging you.”</p> + +<p>Maida was so angry that she walked into +the living-room without limping.</p> + +<p>At four that afternoon, when the children +came out of school, there was another flurry +of trade. Towards five, it slackened. +Maida sat in her swivel-chair and wistfully +watched the scene in the court. Little boys +were playing top. Little girls were jumping +rope. Once she saw a little girl in a +scarlet cape come out of one of the yards. +On one shoulder perched a fluffy kitten. +Following her, gamboled an Irish setter +and a Skye terrier. Presently it grew dark +and the children began to go indoors. Maida +lighted the gas and lost herself in “Gulliver’s +Travels.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + +<p>The sound of voices attracted her attention +after awhile. She turned in her chair. +Outside, staring into the window, stood a +little boy and girl—a ragged, dirty pair. +Their noses pressed so hard against the +glass that they were flattened into round +white circles. They took no notice of +Maida. Dropping her eyes to her book, she +pretended to read.</p> + +<p>“I boneys that red top, first,” said the +little boy in a piping voice.</p> + +<p>He was a round, brown, pop-eyed, big-mouthed +little creature. Maida could not +decide which he looked most like—a frog or +a brownie. She christened him “the Bogle” +at once.</p> + +<p>“I boneys that little pink doll with the +curly hair, first,” said the girl.</p> + +<p>She was a round, brown little creature, +too—but pretty. She had merry brown +eyes and a merry little red and white smile. +Maida christened her “the Robin.”</p> + +<p>“I boneys that big agate, second,” said +the Bogle.</p> + +<p>“I boneys that little table, second,” said +the Robin.</p> + +<p>“I boneys that knife, third,” said the Bogle. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I boneys that little chair, third,” said +the Robin.</p> + +<p>Maida could not imagine what kind of +game they were playing. She went to the +door. “Come in, children,” she called.</p> + +<p>The children jumped and started to run +away. But they stopped a little way off, +turned and stood as if they were not certain +what to do. Finally the Robin marched +over to Maida’s side and the Bogle followed.</p> + +<p>“Tell me about the game you were playing,” +Maida said. “I never heard of it before.”</p> + +<p>“’Tain’t any game,” the Bogle said.</p> + +<p>“We were just boneying,” the Robin explained. +“Didn’t you ever boney anything?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Why, you boneys things in store windows,” +the Robin went on. “You always +boney with somebody else. You choose one +thing for yours and they choose something +else for theirs until everything in the window +is all chosen up. But of course they +don’t really belong to you. You only play +they do.”</p> + +<p>“I see,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>She went to the window and took out the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +red top and the little pink doll with curly +hair. “Here, these are the things you boneyed +first. You may have them.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, thank you—thank you—thank you,” +the Robin exclaimed. She kissed the little +pink doll ecstatically, stopping now and then +to look gratefully at Maida.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” the Bogle echoed. He did +not look at Maida but he began at once to +wind his top.</p> + +<p>“What is your name?” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“Molly Doyle,” the Robin answered. +“And this is my brother, Timmie Doyle.”</p> + +<p>“My name’s Maida. Come and see me +again, Molly, and you, too, Timmie.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I’ll come,” Molly answered, +“and I’m going to name my doll ‘Maida.’”</p> + +<p>Molly ran all the way home, her doll +tightly clutched to her breast. But Timmie +stopped to spin his top six times—Maida +counted.</p> + +<p>No more customers came that evening. +At six, Maida closed and locked the shop.</p> + +<p>After dinner she thought she would read +one of her new books. She settled herself +in her little easy chair by the fire and opened +to a story with a fascinating picture. But +the moment her eyes fell on the page—it +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +was the strangest thing—a drowsiness, as +deep as a fairy’s enchantment, fell upon her. +She struggled with it for awhile, but she +could not throw it off. The next thing she +knew, Granny was helping her up the stairs, +was undressing her, had laid her in her bed. +The next thing she was saying dreamily, +“I made one dollar and eighty-seven cents +to-day. If my papa ever gets into any more +trouble in Wall Street, he can borrow from +me.”</p> + +<p>The next thing, she felt the pillow soft +and cool under her cheek. The next thing—bright +sunlight was pouring through the +window—it was morning again.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>THE SECOND DAY</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>It had rained all that night, but the second +morning dawned the twinklingest kind +of day. It seemed to Maida that Mother +Nature had washed a million tiny, fleecy, +white clouds and hung them out to dry in +the crisp blue air. Everything still dripped +but the brilliant sunshine put a sparkle on +the whole world. Slates of old roofs glistened, +brasses of old doors glittered, silver +of old name-plates shone. Curbstones, +sidewalks, doorsteps glimmered and gleamed. +The wet, ebony-black trunks of the +maples smoked as if they were afire, their +thick-leaved, golden heads flared like burning +torches. Maida stood for a long time at +the window listening to a parrot who called +at intervals from somewhere in the neighborhood. +“Get up, you sleepy-heads! Get +up! Get up!”</p> + +<p>A huge puddle stretched across Primrose +Court. When Maida took her place in the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +swivel-chair, three children had begun already +to float shingles across its muddy expanse. +Two of them were Molly and Tim +Doyle, the third a little girl whom Maida +did not know. For a time she watched +them, fascinated. But, presently, the +school children crowding into the shop took +all her attention. After the bell rang and +the neighborhood had become quiet again, +she resumed her watch of the mud-puddle +fun.</p> + +<p>Now they were loading their shingles with +leaves, twigs, pebbles, anything that they +could find in the gutters. By lashing the +water into waves, as they trotted in the +wake of their frail craft, they managed to +sail them from one end of the puddle to the +other. Maida followed the progress of +these merchant vessels as breathlessly as +their owners. Some capsized utterly. +Others started to founder and had to be +dragged ashore. A few brought the cruise +to a triumphant finish.</p> + +<p>But Tim soon put an end to this fun. +Unexpectedly, his foot caught somewhere +and he sprawled headlong in the tide. “Oh, +Tim!” Molly said. But she said it without +surprise or anger. And Tim lay flat on his +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +stomach without moving, as if it were a +common occurrence with him. Molly waded +out to him, picked him up and marched him +into the house.</p> + +<p>The other little girl had disappeared. +Suddenly she came out of one of the yards, +clasping a Teddy-bear and a whole family +of dolls in her fat arms. She sat down at +the puddle’s edge and began to undress +them. Maida idly watched the busy little +fingers—one, two, three, four, five—now +there were six shivering babies. What was +she going to do with them? Maida wondered.</p> + +<p>“Granny,” Maida called, “do come and +see this little girl! She’s—” But Maida +did not finish that sentence in words. It +ended in a scream. For suddenly the little +girl threw the Teddy-bear and all the six +dolls into the puddle. Maida ran out the +door. Half-way across the court she met +Dicky Dore swinging through the water. +Between them they fished all the dolls out. +One was of celluloid and another of rubber—they +had floated into the middle of the +pond. Two china babies had sunk to the +very bottom—their white faces smiled +placidly up through the water at their rescuers. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +A little rag-doll lay close to the +shore, water-logged. A pretty paper-doll +had melted to a pulp. And the biggest and +prettiest of them, a lovely blonde creature +with a shapely-jointed body and a bisque +head, covered with golden curls, looked +hopelessly bedraggled.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Betsy Hale!” Dicky said. “You +naughty, naughty girl! How could you +drown your own children like that?”</p> + +<p>“I were divin’ them a baff,” Betsy explained.</p> + +<p>Betsy was a little, round butterball of a +girl with great brown eyes all tangled up in +eyelashes and a little pink rosebud of a +mouth, folded over two rows of mice-teeth. +She smiled deliciously up into Maida’s face:</p> + +<p>“I aren’t naughty, is I?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Naughty? You bunny-duck! Of course +you are,” Maida said, giving her a bear-hug. +“I don’t see how anybody can scold her,” +she whispered to Dicky.</p> + +<p>“Scold her! You can’t,” Dicky said disgustedly. +“She’s too cute. And then if +you did scold her it wouldn’t do any good. +She’s the naughtiest baby in the neighborhood—although,” +he added with pride, “I +think Delia’s going to be pretty nearly as +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +naughty when she gets big enough. But +Betsy Hale—why, the whole street has to +keep an eye on her. Come, pick up your +dollies, Betsy,” he wheedled, “they’ll get +cold if you leave them out here.”</p> + +<p>The thought of danger to her darlings +produced immediate activity on Betsy’s +part. She gathered the dolls under her +cape, hugging them close. “Her must put +her dollies to bed,” she said wisely.</p> + +<p>“Calls herself <span style="font-style: italic">her</span> half the time,” Dicky +explained. He gathered up the dresses and +shooing Betsy ahead of him, followed her +into the yard.</p> + +<p>“She’s the greatest child I ever saw,” he +said, rejoining Maida a little later. “The +things she thinks of to do! Why, the other +day, Miss Allison—the sister of the blind +lady what sits in the window and knits—the +one what owns the parrot—well, Miss Allison +painted one of her old chairs red and put +it out in the yard to dry. Then she washed a +whole lot of lace and put that out to dry. +Next thing she knew she looked out and +there was Betsy washing all the red paint +off the chair with the lace. You’d have +thought that would have been enough for +one day, wouldn’t you? Well, that afternoon +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +she turned the hose on Mr. Flanagan—that’s +the policeman on the beat.”</p> + +<p>“What did he say?” Maida asked in +alarm. She had a vague imaginary picture +of Betsy being dragged to the station-house.</p> + +<p>“Roared! But then Mr. Flanagan thinks +Betsy’s all right. Always calls her ’sophy +Sparkles.’ Betsy runs away about twice a +week. Mr. Flanagan’s always finding her +and lugging her home. I guess every policeman +in Charlestown knows her by this +time. There, look at her now! Did you +ever see such a kid?”</p> + +<p>Betsy had come out of the yard again. +She was carrying a huge feather duster over +her head as if it were a parasol.</p> + +<p>“The darling!” Maida said joyously. “I +hope she’ll do something naughty every +day.”</p> + +<p>“Queer how you love a naughty child,” +Dick said musingly. “They’re an awful +lot of trouble but you can’t help liking them. +Has Tim Doyle fallen into the puddle yet?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, just a little while ago.”</p> + +<p>“He’s always falling in mud puddles. I +guess if Molly fishes him out once after a +rain, she does a half a dozen times.”</p> + +<p>“Do come and see me, Dicky, won’t you?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +Maida asked when they got to the shop door. +“You know I shall be lonely when all the +children are in school and—then besides—you’re +the first friend I’ve made.”</p> + +<p>At the word <span style="font-style: italic">friend</span>, Dicky’s beautiful +smile shone bright. “Sure, I’ll come,” he +said heartily. “I’ll come often.”</p> + +<p>“Granny,” Maida exclaimed, bursting +into the kitchen, “wait until you hear about +Betsy Hale.” She told the whole story. +“Was I ever a naughty little girl?” she concluded.</p> + +<p>“Naughty? Glory be, and what’s ailing +you? ’Twas the best choild this side of +Heaven that you was. Always so sick and +yet niver a cross wurrud out of you.”</p> + +<p>A shadow fell over Maida’s face. “Oh, +dear, dear,” she grieved. “I wish I had been +a naughty child—people love naughty children +so. Are you quite sure I was always +good, Granny?”</p> + +<p>“Why, me blessid lamb, ’twas too sick +that you was to be naughty. You cud +hardly lift one little hand from the bed.”</p> + +<p>“But, Granny, dear,” Maida persisted, +“can’t you think of one single, naughty +thing I did? I’m sure you can if you try +hard.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>Maida’s face was touched with a kind of +sad wistfulness. Granny looked down at +her, considerably puzzled. Then a light +seemed to break in her mind. It shone +through her blue eyes and twinkled in her +smile.</p> + +<p>“Sure and Oi moind wance when Oi was +joost afther giving you some medicine and +you was that mad for having to take the +stuff that you sat oop in bed and knocked +iv’ry bottle off the table. Iv’ry wan! Sure, +we picked oop glass for a wake afther.”</p> + +<p>Maida’s wistful look vanished in a peal +of silvery laughter. “Did I really, Granny?” +she asked in delight. “Did I break +every bottle? Are you sure? Every one?”</p> + +<p>“Iv’ry wan as sure as OI’m a living sinner,” +said Granny. “Faith and ’twas the +bad little gyurl that you was often—now +that I sthop to t’ink av ut.”</p> + +<p>Maida bounded back to the shop in high +spirits. Granny heard her say “Every bottle!” +again and again in a whispering little +voice.</p> + +<p>“Just think, Granny,” she called after a +while. “I’ve made one, two, three, four, +five friends—Dicky, Molly, Tim, Betsy and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +Laura—though I don’t call her quite a +friend yet. Pretty good for so soon!”</p> + +<p>Maida was to make a sixth friend, although +not quite so quickly.</p> + +<p>It began that noontime with a strange little +scene that acted itself out in front of +Maida’s window. The children had begun +to gather for school, although it was still +very quiet. Suddenly around the corner +came a wild hullaballoo—the shouts of small +boys, the yelp of a dog, the rattle and clang +of tin dragged on the brick sidewalk. In +another instant appeared a dog, a small, +yellow cur, collarless and forlorn-looking, +with a string of tin cans tied to his tail, a +horde of small boys yelling after him and +pelting him with stones.</p> + +<p>Maida started up, but before she could get +to the door, something flashed like a scarlet +comet from across the street. It was the +little girl whom Maida had seen twice before—the +one who always wore the scarlet cape.</p> + +<p>Even in the excitement, Maida noticed +how handsome she was. She seemed proud. +She carried her slender, erect little body as +if she were a princess and her big eyes +cast flashing glances about her. Jet-black +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +were her eyes and hair, milk-white were +her teeth but in the olive of her cheeks +flamed a red such as could be matched only +in the deepest roses. Maida christened her +Rose-Red at once.</p> + +<p>Rose-Red lifted the little dog into her +arms with a single swoop of her strong arm. +She yanked the cans from its tail with a +single indignant jerk. Fondling the trembling +creature against her cheek, she talked +first to him, then to his abashed persecutors.</p> + +<p>“You sweet, little, darling puppy, you! +Did they tie the wicked cans to his poor little +tail!” and then—“if ever I catch one of +you boys treating a poor, helpless animal +like this again, I’ll shake the breath out of +your body—was he the beautifullest dog that +ever was? And if that isn’t enough, Arthur +Duncan will lick you all, won’t you, Arthur?” +She turned pleadingly to Arthur.</p> + +<p>Arthur nodded.</p> + +<p>“Nobody’s going to hurt helpless creatures +while I’m about! He was a sweet little, +precious little, pretty little puppy, so he +was.”</p> + +<p>Rose-Red marched into the court with the +puppy, opened a gate and dropped him inside. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That pup belongs to me, now,” she said +marching back.</p> + +<p>The school bell ringing at this moment +ended the scene.</p> + +<p>“Who’s that little girl who wears the +scarlet cape?” Maida asked Dorothy and +Mabel Clark when they came in together at +four.</p> + +<p>“Rosie Brine,” they answered in chorus.</p> + +<p>“She’s a dreffle naughty girl,” Mabel said +in a whisper, and “My mommer won’t let +me play with her,” Dorothy added.</p> + +<p>“Why not?” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“She’s a tom-boy,” Mabel informed her.</p> + +<p>“What’s a tom-boy?” Maida asked Billy +that night at dinner.</p> + +<p>“A tom-boy?” Billy repeated. “Why, a +tom-boy is a girl who acts like a boy.”</p> + +<p>“How can a girl be a boy?” Maida queried +after a few moments of thought. +“Why don’t they call her a tom-girl?”</p> + +<p>“Why, indeed?” Billy answered, taking +up the dictionary.</p> + +<p>Certainly Rosie Brine acted like a boy—Maida +proved that to herself in the next few +days when she watched Rose-Red again and +again. But if she were a tom-boy, she was +also, Maida decided, the most beautiful and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +the most wonderful little girl in the world. +And, indeed, Rosie was so full of energy +that it seemed to spurt out in the continual +sparkle of her face and the continual movement +of her body. She never walked. She +always crossed the street in a series of flying +jumps. She never went through a gate +if she could go over the fence, never climbed +the fence if she could vault it. The scarlet +cape was always flashing up trees, over +sheds, sometimes to the very roofs of the +houses. Her principal diversion seemed to +be climbing lamp-posts. Maida watched +this proceeding with envy. One athletic +leap and Rose-Red was clasping the iron +column half-way up—a few more and she +was swinging from the bars under the lantern. +But she was accomplished in other +ways. She could spin tops, play “cat” and +“shinney” as well as any of the boys. And +as for jumping rope—if two little girls +would swing for her, Rosie could actually +waltz in the rope.</p> + +<p>The strangest thing about Rosie was that +she did not always go to school like the other +children. The incident of the dog happened +on Thursday. Friday morning, when the +children filed into the schoolhouse, Rosie +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +did not follow them. Instead, she hid herself +in a doorway until after the bell rang. +A little later she sneaked out of her hiding +place, joined Arthur Duncan at the corner, +and disappeared into the distance. Just +before twelve they both came back. For a +few moments, they kept well concealed on a +side street, out of sight of Primrose Court. +But, at intervals, Rosie or Arthur would +dart out to a spot where, without being +seen, they could get a glimpse of the church +clock. When the children came out of +school at twelve, they joined the crowd and +sauntered home.</p> + +<p>Monday morning Maida saw them repeat +these maneuvers. She was completely +mystified by them and yet she had an uncomfortable +feeling. They were so stealthy +that she could not help guessing that something +underhand was going on.</p> + +<p>“Do you know Rosie Brine?” Maida +asked Dicky Dore one evening when they +were reading together.</p> + +<p>“Sure!” Dicky’s face lighted up. “Isn’t +she a peach?”</p> + +<p>“They say she is a tom-boy,” Maida objected. +“Is she?”</p> + +<p>“Surest thing you know,” Dicky said +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +cheerfully. “She won’t take a dare. You +ought to see her playing stumps. There’s +nothing a boy can do that she won’t do. +And have you noticed how she can spin a +top—the best I ever saw for a girl.”</p> + +<p>Then boys liked girls to be tom-boys. +This was a great surprise.</p> + +<p>“How does it happen that she doesn’t go +to school often?”</p> + +<p>Dicky grinned. “Hooking jack!”</p> + +<p>“Hooking jack?” Maida repeated in a +puzzled tone.</p> + +<p>“Hooking jack—playing hookey—playing +truant.” Dicky watched Maida’s face +but her expression was still puzzled. “Pretending +to go to school and not going,” he +said at last.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” Maida said. “I understand now.”</p> + +<p>“She just hates school,” Dicky went on. +“They can’t make her go. Old Stoopendale, +the truant officer, is always after her. +Little she cares for old Stoopy though. She +gets fierce beatings for it at home, too. +Funny thing about Rosie—she won’t tell a +lie. And when her mother asks her about +it, she always tells the truth. Sometimes +her mother will go to the schoolhouse door +with her every morning and afternoon for +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +a week. But the moment she stops, Rosie +begins to hook jack again.”</p> + +<p>“Mercy me!” Maida said. In all her +short life she had never heard anything like +this. She was convinced that Rosie Brine +was a very naughty little girl. And yet, +underneath this conviction, burned an ardent +admiration for her.</p> + +<p>“She must be very brave,” she said soberly.</p> + +<p>“Brave! Well, I guess you’d think so! +Arthur Duncan says she’s braver than a lot +of boys he knows. Arthur and she hook +jack together sometimes. And, oh cracky, +don’t they have the good times! They go +down to the Navy Yard and over to the +Monument Grounds. Sometimes they go +over to Boston Common and the Public Garden. +Once they walked all the way to +Franklin Park. And in the summer they +often walk down to Crescent Beach. They +say when I get well, I can go with them.”</p> + +<p>Dicky spoke in the wistful tone with +which he always related the deeds of +stronger children. Maida knew exactly +how he felt—she had been torn by the same +hopes and despairs.</p> + +<p>“Oh, wouldn’t it be grand to be able to +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +do just anything?” she said. “I’m just beginning +to feel as if I could do some of the +things I’ve always wanted to do.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to do them all, sometime,” +Dicky prophesied. “Doc O’Brien says +so.”</p> + +<p>“I think Rosie the beautifullest little +girl,” Maida said. “I wish she’d come into +the shop so that I could get acquainted with +her.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, she’ll come in sometime. You see +the W.M.N.T. is meeting now and we’re +all pretty busy. She’s the only girl in it.”</p> + +<p>“The W.M.N.T.,” Maida repeated. +“What does that mean?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t tell?” Dicky said regretfully. +“It’s the name of our club. Rosie and Arthur +and I are the only ones who belong.”</p> + +<p>After that talk, Maida watched Rosie +Brine closer than ever. If she caught a +glimpse of the scarlet cape in the distance, +it was hard to go on working. She noticed +that Rosie seemed very fond of all helpless +things. She was always wheeling out the +babies in the neighborhood, always feeding +the doves and carrying her kitten about on +her shoulder, always winning the hearts of +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +other people’s dogs and then trying to induce +them not to follow her.</p> + +<p>“It seems strange that she never comes +into the shop,” Maida said mournfully to +Dicky one day.</p> + +<p>“You see she never has any money to +spend,” Dicky explained. “That’s the way +her mother punishes her. But sometimes +she earns it on the sly taking care of babies. +She loves babies and babies always love her. +Delia’ll go to her from my mother any time +and as for Betsy Hale—Rosie’s the only one +who can do anything with her.”</p> + +<p>But a whole week passed. And then one +day, to Maida’s great delight, the tinkle of +the bell preceded the entrance of Rose-Red.</p> + +<p>“Let me look at your tops, please,” Rosie +said, marching to the counter with the usual +proud swing of her body.</p> + +<p>Seen closer, she was even prettier than at +a distance. Her smooth olive skin glistened +like satin. Her lips showed roses even more +brilliant than those that bloomed in her +cheeks. A frown between her eyebrows +gave her face almost a sullen look. But to +offset this, her white teeth turned her smile +into a flash of light. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +Maida lifted all the tops from the window +and placed them on the counter.</p> + +<p>“Mind if I try them?” Rosie asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do.”</p> + +<p>Rosie wound one of them with an expert +hand. Then with a quick dash forward of +her whole arm, she threw the top to the +floor. It danced there, humming like a +whole hiveful of bees.</p> + +<p>“Oh, how lovely!” Maida exclaimed. +Then in fervent admiration: “What a +wonderful girl you are!”</p> + +<p>Rosie smiled. “Easy as pie if you know +how. Want to learn?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, will you teach me?”</p> + +<p>“Sure! Begin now.”</p> + +<p>Maida limped from behind the counter. +Rosie watched her. Rosie’s face softened +with the same pity that had shone on the +frightened little dog.</p> + +<p>“She’s sorry for me,” Maida thought. +“How sweet she looks!”</p> + +<p>But Rosie said nothing about Maida’s +limp. She explained the process of top-spinning +from end to end, step by step, +making Maida copy everything that she did. +At first Maida was too eager—her hands +actually trembled. But gradually she +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +gained in confidence. At last she succeeded +in making one top spin feebly.</p> + +<p>“Now you’ve got the hang of it,” Rosie +encouraged her, “You’ll soon learn. All +you want to do is to practice. I’ll come +to-morrow and see how you’re getting on.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, do,” Maida begged, “and come to +see me in the evening sometime. Come this +evening if your mother’ll let you.”</p> + +<p>Rosie laughed scornfully. “I guess nobody’s +got anything to say about <span style="font-style: italic">letting me</span>, +if I make up my mind to come. Well, goodbye!”</p> + +<p>She whirled out of the shop and soon the +scarlet cape was a brilliant spot in the distance.</p> + +<p>But about seven that evening the bell +rang. When Maida opened the door there +stood Rosie.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie,” Maida said joyfully, throwing +her arms about her guest, “how glad I +am to see you!” She hurried her into the +living-room where Billy Potter was talking +with Granny. “This is Rosie Brine, Billy,” +she said, her voice full of pride in her +new friend. “And this is Billy Potter, +Rosie.”</p> + +<p>Billy shook hands gravely with the little +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +girl. And Rosie looked at him in open +wonder. Maida knew exactly what she was +thinking. Rosie was trying to make up her +mind whether he was a boy or a man. The +problem seemed to grow more perplexing as +the evening went on. For part of the time +Billy played with them, sitting on the floor +like a boy, and part of the time he talked +with Granny, sitting in a chair like a man.</p> + +<p>Maida showed Rosie her books, her Venetian +beads, all her cherished possessions. +Rosie liked the canaries better than anything. +“Just think of having six!” she +said. Then, sitting upstairs in Maida’s bedroom, +the two little girls had a long confidential +talk.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been just crazy to know you, +Maida,” Rosie confessed. “But there was +no way of getting acquainted, for you always +stayed in the store. I had to wait until I +could tease mother to buy me a top.”</p> + +<p>“That’s funny,” Maida said, “for I was +just wild to know you. I kept hoping that +you’d come in. I hope you’ll come often, +Rosie, for I don’t know any other little girl +of my own age.”</p> + +<p>“You know Laura Lathrop, don’t you?” +Rosie asked with a sideways look. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes, but I don’t like her.”</p> + +<p>“Nobody likes her,” Rosie said. “She’s +too much of a smarty-cat. She loves to get +people over there and then show off before +them. And then she puts on so many airs. +I won’t have anything to do with her.”</p> + +<p>From the open window came the shrill +scream of Miss Allison’s parrot. “What +do you think of that?” it called over and +over again.</p> + +<p>“Isn’t that a clever bird?” Rosie asked +admiringly. “His name is Tony. I have +lots of fun with him. Did you ever see a +parrot that could talk, before?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, we have several at Pride’s.”</p> + +<p>“Pride’s?”</p> + +<p>“Pride’s Crossing. That’s where we go +summers.”</p> + +<p>“And what do your parrots say?”</p> + +<p>“One talked in French. He used to say +‘Taisez-vous’ so much that sometimes we +would have to put a cover over the cage to +stop him.”</p> + +<p>“And did you have other animals besides +parrots?” Rosie asked. “I love animals.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, we had horses and dogs and cats +and rabbits and dancing mice and marmosets +and macaws and parokets and—I guess +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +I’ve forgotten some of them. But if you +like animals, you ought to go to our place +in the Adirondacks—there are deer preserves +there and pheasants and peacocks.”</p> + +<p>“Who do they belong to?”</p> + +<p>“My father.”</p> + +<p>Rosie considered this. “Does he keep a +bird-place?” she asked in a puzzled tone.</p> + +<p>“No.” Maida’s tone was a little puzzled +too. She did not know what a bird-place +was.</p> + +<p>“Well, did he sell them?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think he ever sold any. He gave +a great many away, though.”</p> + +<p>When Rosie went home, Maida walked as +far as her gate with her.</p> + +<p>“Want to know a secret, Maida?” Rosie +asked suddenly, her eyes dancing with mischief.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. I love secrets.”</p> + +<p>“Cross your throat then.”</p> + +<p>Maida did not know how to cross her +throat but Rosie taught her.</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” Rosie whispered, “my +mother doesn’t know that I went to your +house. She sent me to bed for being +naughty. And I got up and dressed and +climbed out my window on to the shed without +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +anybody knowing it. She’ll never know +the difference.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie,” Maida said in a horrified +tone, “Please never do it again.” In spite +of herself, Maida’s eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>But Rosie only laughed. Maida watched +her steal into her yard, watched her climb +over the shed, watched her disappear +through the window.</p> + +<p>But she grieved over the matter as she +walked home. Perhaps it was because she +was thinking so deeply that she did not notice +how quiet they all were in the living-room. +But as she crossed the threshold, a +pair of arms seized her and swung her into +the air.</p> + +<p>“Oh, papa, papa,” she whispered, cuddling +her face against his, “how glad I am +to see you.”</p> + +<p>He marched with her over to the light.</p> + +<p>“Well, little shop-keeper,” he said after +a long pause in which he studied her keenly, +“you’re beginning to look like a real live +girl.” He dropped her gently to her feet. +“Now show me your shop.”</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>PRIMROSE COURT</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>But during that first two weeks a continual +rush of business made long days +for Maida. All the children in the neighborhood +were curious to see the place. It +had been dark and dingy as long as they +could remember. Now it was always bright +and pretty—always sweet with the perfume +of flowers, always gay with the music of +birds. But more, the children wanted to +see the lame little girl who “tended store,” +who seemed to try so hard to please her customers +and who was so affectionate and respectful +with the old, old lady whom she +called “Granny.”</p> + +<p>At noon and night the bell sounded a continuous +tinkle.</p> + +<p>For a week Maida kept rather close to the +shop. She wanted to get acquainted with +all her customers. Moreover, she wanted to +find out which of the things she had bought +sold quickly and which were unpopular. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>After a day or two her life fell into a regular +programme.</p> + +<p>Early in the morning she would put the +shop to rights for the day’s sale, dusting, +replacing the things she had sold, rearranging +them often according to some pretty new +scheme. </p> + +<p>About eight o’clock the bell would call her +into the shop and it would be brisk work +until nine. Then would come a rest of +three hours, broken only by an occasional +customer. In this interval she often +worked in the yard, raking up the leaves +that fell from vine and bush, picking the +bravely-blooming dahlias, gathering sprays +of woodbine for the vases, scattering +crumbs to the birds.</p> + +<p>At twelve the children would begin to +flood the shop again and Maida would be on +her feet constantly until two. Between two +and four came another long rest. After +school trade started up again. Often it +lasted until six, when she locked the door for +the night.</p> + +<p>In her leisure moments she used to watch +the people coming and going in Primrose +Court. With Rosie’s and Dicky’s help, she +soon knew everybody by name. She discovered +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +by degrees that on the right side of +the court lived the Hales, the Clarks, the +Doyles and the Dores; on the left side, the +Duncans, the Brines and the Allisons. In +the big house at the back lived the Lathrops.</p> + +<p>Betsy was a great delight to Maida, for the +neighborhood brimmed with stories of her +mischief. She had buried her best doll in +the ash-barrel, thrown her mother’s pocketbook +down the cesspool, put all the clean +laundry into a tub of water and painted the +parlor fireplace with tomato catsup. In a +single afternoon, having become secretly +possessed of a pair of scissors, she cut all +the fringe off the parlor furniture, cut great +scallops in the parlor curtains, cut great +patches of fur off the cat’s back. When +her mother found her, she was busy cutting +her own hair.</p> + +<p>Often Granny would hear the door slam +on Maida’s hurried rush from the shop. +Hobbling to the window, she would see the +child leading Betsy by the hand. “Running +away again,” was all Maida would say. +Occasionally Maida would call in a vexed +tone, “Now <span style="font-style: italic">how</span> did she creep past the window +without my seeing her?” And outside +would be rosy-cheeked, brass-buttoned Mr. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +Flanagan, carrying Betsy home. Once +Billy arrived at the shop, bearing Betsy in +his arms. “She was almost to the bridge,” +he said, “when I caught sight of her from +the car window. The little tramp!”</p> + +<p>Betsy never seemed to mind being caught. +For an instant the little rosebud that was +her mouth would part over the tiny pearls +that were her teeth. This roguish smile +seemed to say: “You wait until the next +time. You won’t catch me then.”</p> + +<p>Sometimes Betsy would come into the +shop for an hour’s play. Maida loved to +have her there but it was like entertaining +a whirlwind. Betsy had a strong curiosity +to see what the drawers and boxes contained. +Everything had to be put back in +its place when she left.</p> + +<p>Next to the Hales lived the Clarks. By +the end of the first week Maida was the +chief adoration of the Clark twins. Dorothy +and Mabel were just as good as Betsy +was naughty. When they came over to see +Maida, they played quietly with whatever +she chose to give them. It was an hour, +ordinarily, before they could be made to talk +above a whisper. If they saw Maida coming +into the court, they would run to her +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +side, slipping a hot little hand into each of +hers. Attended always by this roly-poly +bodyguard, Maida would limp from group +to group of the playing children. Nobody +in Primrose Court could tell the Clark twins +apart. Maida soon learned the difference +although she could never explain it to anybody +else. “It’s something you have to +feel,” she said.</p> + +<p>Billy Potter enjoyed the twins as much as +Maida did. “Good morning, Dorothy-Mabel,” +he always said when he met one of +them; “is this you or your sister?” And he +always answered their whispered remarks +with whispers so much softer than theirs +that he finally succeeded in forcing them to +raise their shy little voices.</p> + +<p>The Doyles and the Dores lived in one +house next to the Clarks, Molly and Tim on +the first floor, Dicky and Delia above. +Maida became very fond of the Doyle children. +Like Betsy, they were too young to +go to school and she saw a good deal of them +in the lonely school hours. The puddle was +an endless source of amusement to them. +As long as it remained, they entertained +themselves playing along its shores.</p> + +<p>“There’s that choild in the water again,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +Granny would cry from the living-room.</p> + +<p>Looking out, Maida would see Tim spread +out on all fours. Like an obstinate little +pig, he would lie still until Molly picked him +up. She would take him home and in a few +moments he would reappear in fresh, clean +clothes again.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Tim,” Billy Potter would say +whenever they met. “Fallen into a pud-muddle +lately?”</p> + +<p>The word <span style="font-style: italic">pud-muddle</span> always sent Tim +off into peals of laughter. It was the only +thing Maida had discovered that could make +him laugh, for he was as serious as Molly +was merry. Molly certainly was the jolliest +little girl in the court—Maida had never +seen her with anything but a smiling face.</p> + +<p>Dicky’s mother went to work so early +and came back so late that Maida had never +seen her. But Dicky soon became an intimate. +Maida had begun the reading lessons +and Dicky was so eager to get on that they +were progressing famously.</p> + +<p>The Lathrops lived in the big house at the +back of the court. Granny learned from +the Misses Allison that, formerly, the whole +neighborhood had belonged to the Lathrop +family. But they had sold all their land, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +piece by piece, except the one big lot on +which the house stood. Perhaps it was because +they had once been so important that +Mrs. Lathrop seemed to feel herself a little +better than the rest of the people in Primrose +Court. At any rate, although she +spoke with all, the Misses Allison were the +only ones on whom she condescended to call. +Maida caught a glimpse of her occasionally +on the piazza—a tall, thin woman, white-haired +and sharp-featured, who always wore +a worsted shawl.</p> + +<p>The house was a big, bulky building, a +mass of piazzas and bay-windows, with a +hexagonal cupola on the top. It was +painted white with green blinds and +trimmed with a great deal of wooden lace. +The wide lawn was well-kept and plots of +flowers, here and there, gave it a gay air.</p> + +<p>Laura had a brother named Harold, who +was short and fat. Harold seemed to do +nothing all day long but ride a wheel at a +tearing pace over the asphalt paths, and +regularly, for two hours every morning, to +draw a shrieking bow across a tortured violin.</p> + +<p>The more Maida watched Laura the less +she liked her. She could see that what Rosie +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +said was perfectly true—Laura put on airs. +Every afternoon Laura played on the lawn. +Her appearance was the signal for all the +small fry of the neighborhood to gather +about the gate. First would come the +Doyles, then Betsy, then, one by one, +the strange children who wandered into the +court, until there would be a row of wistful +little faces stuck between the bars of the +fence. They would follow every move that +Laura made as she played with the toys +spread in profusion upon the grass.</p> + +<p>Laura often pretended not to see them. +She would lift her large family of dolls, +one after another, from cradle to bed and +from bed to tiny chair and sofa. She would +parade up and down the walk, using first +one doll-carriage, then the other. She +would even play a game of croquet against +herself. Occasionally she would call in a +condescending tone, “You may come in for +awhile if you wish, little children.” And +when the delighted little throng had scampered +to her side, she would show them all +her toy treasures on condition that they did +not touch them.</p> + +<p>When the proceedings reached this stage, +Maida would be so angry that she could +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +look no longer. Very often, after Laura +had sent the children away, Maida would +call them into the shop. She would let +them play all the rest of the afternoon with +anything her stock afforded.</p> + +<p>On the right side of the court lived Arthur +Duncan, the Misses Allison and Rosie +Brine. The more Maida saw of Arthur, +the more she disliked him. In fact, she +hated to have him come into the shop. It +seemed to her that he went out of his way +to be impolite to her, that he looked at her +with a decided expression of contempt in +his big dark eyes. But Rosie and Dicky +seemed very fond of him. Billy Potter had +once told her that one good way of judging +people was by the friends they made. +If that were true, she had to acknowledge +that there must be something fine about +Arthur that she had not discovered.</p> + +<p>Maida guessed that the W.M.N.T.’s met +three or four times a week. Certainly +there were very busy doings at Dicky’s or +at Arthur’s house every other day. What +it was all about, Maida did not know. But +she fancied that it had much to do with +Dicky’s frequent purchases of colored tissue +paper. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Misses Allison had become great +friends with Granny. Matilda, the blind +sister, was very slender and sweet-faced. +She sat all day in the window, crocheting +the beautiful, fleecy shawls by which she +helped support the household.</p> + +<p>Jemima, the older, short, fat and with +snapping black eyes, did the housework, attended +to the parrot and waited by inches +on her afflicted sister. Occasionally in the +evening they would come to call on Granny. +Billy Potter was very nice to them both. +He was always telling the sisters the long +amusing stories of his adventures. Miss +Matilda’s gentle face used positively to +beam at these times, and Miss Jemima +laughed so hard that, according to her own +story, his talk put her “in stitches.”</p> + +<p>Maida did not see Rosie’s mother often. +To tell the truth, she was a little afraid of +her. She was a tall, handsome, black-browed +woman—a grown-up Rosie—with +an appearance of great strength and of +even greater temper. “Ah, that choild’s +the limb,” Granny would say, when Maida +brought her some new tale of Rosie’s disobedience. +And yet, in the curious way in +which Maida divined things that were not +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +told her, she knew that, next to Dicky, +Rosie was Granny’s favorite of all the children +in the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>With all these little people to act upon +its stage, it is not surprising that Primrose +Court seemed to Maida to be a little +theater of fun—a stage to which her window +was the royal box. Something was going +on there from morning to night. Here +would be a little group of little girls playing +“house” with numerous families of +dolls. There, it would be boys, gathered in +an excited ring, playing marbles or top. +Just before school, games like leap-frog, or +tag or prisoners’ base would prevail. But, +later, when there was more time, hoist-the-sail +would fill the air with its strange cries, +or hide-and-seek would make the place boil +with excitement. Maida used to watch +these games wistfully, for Granny had decided +that they were all too rough for her. +She would not even let Maida play “London-Bridge-is-falling-down” +or “drop the +handkerchief”—anything, in fact, in which +she would have to run or pull.</p> + +<p>But Granny had no objections to the +gentler fun of “Miss Jennie-I-Jones,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +“ring-a-ring-a-rounder,” “water, water +wildflower,” “the farmer in the dell,” +“go in and out the windows.” Maida +used to try to pick out the airs of these +games on the spinet—she never could decide +which was the sweetest.</p> + +<p>Maida soon learned how to play jackstones +and, at the end of the second week, +she was almost as proficient as Rosie with +the top. The thing she most wanted to +learn, however, was jump-rope. Every little +girl in Primrose Court could jump-rope—even +the twins, who were especially nimble +at “pepper.” Maida tried it one night—all +alone in the shop. But suddenly her +weak leg gave way under her and she fell +to the floor. Granny, rushing in from the +other room, scolded her violently. She +ended by forbidding her to jump again +without special permission. But Maida +made up her mind that she was going to +learn sometime, even, as she said with a +roguish smile, “if it took a leg.” She +talked it over with Rosie.</p> + +<p>“You let her jump just one jump every +morning and night, Granny,” Rosie advised, +“and I’m sure it will be all right. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +That won’t hurt her any and, after awhile, +she’ll find she can jump two, then three and +so on. That’s the way I learned.”</p> + +<p>Granny agreed to this. Maida practiced +constantly, one jump in her nightgown, just +before going to bed, and another, all +dressed, just after she got up.</p> + +<p>“I jumped three jumps this morning +without failing, Granny,” she said one +morning at breakfast. Within a few days +the record climbed to five, then to seven, +then, at a leap, to ten.</p> + +<p>Dr. Pierce called early one morning. +His eyes opened wide when they fell upon +her. “Well, well, Pinkwink,” he said. +“What do you mean by bringing me way +over here! I thought you were supposed +to be a sick young person. Where’d you +get that color?”</p> + +<p>A flush like that of a pink sweet-pea blossom +had begun to show in Maida’s cheek. +It was faint but it was permanent.</p> + +<p>“Why, you’re the worst fraud on my list. +If you keep on like this, young woman, I +shan’t have any excuse for calling. You’ve +done fine, Granny.”</p> + +<p>Granny looked, as Dr. Pierce afterwards +said, “as tickled as Punch.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>“How do you like shop-keeping?” Dr. +Pierce went on.</p> + +<p>“Like it!” Maida plunged into praise +so swift and enthusiastic that Dr. Pierce +told her to go more slowly or he would put +a bit in her mouth. But he listened attentively. +“Well, I see you’re not tired of +it,” he commented.</p> + +<p>“Tired!” Maida’s indignation was so +intense that Dr. Pierce shook until every +curl bobbed.</p> + +<p>“And I get so hungry,” she went on. +“You see I have to wait until two o’clock +sometimes before I can get my lunch, because +from twelve to two are my busy hours. +Those days it seems as if the school bell +would never ring.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, tis a foine little pig OI’m growing +now,” Granny said.</p> + +<p>“And as for sleeping—” Maida stopped +as if there were no words anywhere to describe +her condition.</p> + +<p>Granny finished it for her. “The choild +sleeps like a top.”</p> + +<p>Billy Potter came at least every day and +sometimes oftener. Every child in Primrose +Court knew him by the end of the first +week and every child loved him by the end +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +of the second. And they all called him +Billy. He would not let them call him Mr. +Potter or even Uncle Billy because, he said, +he was a child when he was with them and +he wanted to be treated like a child. He +played all their games with a skill that they +thought no mere grown-up could possess. +Like Rosie, he seemed to be bubbling over +with life and spirits. He was always running, +leaping, jumping, climbing, turning +cartwheels and somersaults, vaulting fences +and “chinning” himself unexpectedly whenever +he came to a doorway.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Masther Billy, ’tis the choild that +you are!” Granny would say, twinkling.</p> + +<p>“Yes, ma’am,” Billy would answer.</p> + +<p>At the end of the first fortnight, the +neighborhood had accepted Granny and +Maida as the mother-in-law and daughter +of a “traveling man.” From the beginning +Granny had seemed one of them, but +Maida was a puzzle. The children could +not understand how a little girl could be +grown-up and babyish at the same time. +And if you stop to think it over, perhaps +you can understand how they felt.</p> + +<p>Here was a child who had never played, +“London-Bridge-is-falling-down” or jackstones +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +or jump-rope or hop-scotch. Yet +she talked familiarly of automobiles, yachts +and horses. She knew nothing about geography +and yet, her conversation was full +of such phrases as “The spring we were in +Paris” or “The winter we spent in Rome.” +She knew nothing about nouns and verbs +but she talked Italian fluently with the +hand-organ man who came every week and +many of her books were in French. She +knew nothing about fractions or decimals, +yet she referred familiarly to “drawing +checks,” to gold eagles and to Wall Street. +Her writing was so bad that the children +made fun of it, yet she could spin off a letter +of eight pages in a flash. And she told +the most wonderful fairy-tales that had ever +been heard in Primrose Court.</p> + +<p>Because of all these things the children +had a kind of contempt for her mingled +with a curious awe.</p> + +<p>She was so polite with grown people that +it was fairly embarrassing. She always +arose from her chair when they entered the +room, always picked up the things they +dropped and never interrupted. And yet +she could carry on a long conversation with +them. She never said, “Yes, ma’am,” or +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +“No, ma’am.” Instead, she said, “Yes, +Mrs. Brine,” or “No, Miss Allison,” and +she looked whomever she was talking with +straight in the eye.</p> + +<p>She would play with the little children +as willingly as with the bigger ones. Often +when the older girls and boys were in +school, she would bring out a lapful of toys +and spend the whole morning with the little +ones. When Granny called her, she +would give all the toys away, dividing +them with a careful justice. And, yet, +whenever children bought things of her in +the shop, she always expected them to pay +the whole price. You can see how the +neighborhood would fairly buzz with talk +about her.</p> + +<p>As for Maida—with all this newness +of friend-making and out-of-doors games, +it is not to be wondered that her head was +a jumble at the end of each day. In that +delicious, dozy interval before she fell +asleep at night, all kinds of pretty pictures +seemed to paint themselves on her eyelids.</p> + +<p>Now it was Rose-Red swaying like a +great overgrown scarlet flower from the +bars of a lamp-post. Now it was Dicky +hoisting himself along on his crutches, his +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +face alight with his radiant smile. Now +it was a line of laughing, rosy-cheeked children, +as long as the tail of a kite, pelting +to goal at the magic cry “Liberty poles are +bending!” Or it was a group of little girls, +setting out rows and rows of bright-colored +paper-dolls among the shadows of one of the +deep old doorways. But always in a few +moments came the sweetest kind of sleep. +And always through her dreams flowed the +plaintive music of “Go in and out the windows.” +Often she seemed to wake in the +morning to the Clarion cry, “Hoist the +sail!”</p> + +<p>It did not seem to Maida that the days +were long enough to do all the things she +wanted to do.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>TWO CALLS</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>One morning, Laura Lathrop came +bustling importantly into the shop. +“Good morning, Maida,” she said; “you +may come over to my house this afternoon +and play with me if you’d like.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Laura,” Maida answered. +To anybody else, she would have added, “I +shall be delighted to come.” But to Laura, +she only said, “It is kind of you to ask +me.”</p> + +<p>“From about two until four,” Laura +went on in her most superior tone. “I suppose +you can’t get off for much longer than +that.”</p> + +<p>“Granny is always willing to wait on +customers if I want to play,” Maida explained, +“but I think she would not want +me to stay longer than that, anyway.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, then. Shall we say at two?” +Laura said this with a very grown-up air. +Maida knew that she was imitating her +mother. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + +<p>Laura had scarcely left when Dicky appeared, +swinging between his crutches. +“Maida,” he said, “I want you to come over +to-morrow afternoon and see my place. +You’ve not seen Delia yet and there’s a +whole lot of things I want to show you. +I’m going to clean house to-day so’s I’ll +be all ready for you to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, thank you,” Maida said. The +sparkle that always meant delight came into +her face. “I shall be delighted. I’ve always +wanted to go over and see you ever +since I first knew you. But Granny said +to wait until you invited me. And I really +have never seen Delia except when Rosie’s +had her in the carriage. And then she’s always +been asleep.”</p> + +<p>“You have to see Delia in the house to +know what a naughty baby she is,” Dicky +said. He spoke as if that were the +finest tribute that he could pay his little +sister.</p> + +<p>“Granny,” Maida said that noon at +lunch, “Laura Lathrop came here and invited +me to come to see her this afternoon +and I just hate the thought of going—I +don’t know why. Then Dicky came and invited +me to come and see him to-morrow +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +afternoon and I just love the thought of +going. Isn’t it strange?”</p> + +<p>“Very,” Granny said, smiling. “But +you be sure to be a noice choild this afternoon, +no matter what that wan says to you.”</p> + +<p>Granny always referred to Laura as +“that wan.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I’ll be good, Granny. Isn’t it +funny,” Maida went on. The tone of her +voice showed that she was thinking hard. +“Laura makes me mad—oh, just hopping +mad,”—“hopping mad” was one of Rosie’s +expressions—“and yet it seems to me I’d +die before I’d let her know it.”</p> + +<p>Laura was waiting for her on the piazza +when Maida presented herself at the Lathrop +door. “Won’t you come in and take +your things off, first?” she said. “I thought +we’d play in the house for awhile.”</p> + +<p>She took Maida immediately upstairs to +her bedroom—a large room all furnished in +blue—blue paper, blue bureau scarf covered +with lace, blue bed-spread covered with +lace, a big, round, blue roller where the pillows +should be.</p> + +<p>“How do you like my room, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“It’s very pretty.”</p> + +<p>“This is my toilet-set.” Laura pointed +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +to the glittering articles on the bureau. +“Papa’s given them to me, one piece at a +time. It’s all of silver and every thing has +my initials on it. What is your set of?”</p> + +<p>Laura paused before she asked this last +question and darted one of her sideways +looks at Maida. “She thinks I haven’t any +toilet-set and she wants to make me say so,” +Maida thought. “Ivory,” she said aloud.</p> + +<p>“Ivory! I shouldn’t think that would be +very pretty.”</p> + +<p>Laura opened her bureau drawers, one at +a time, and showed Maida the pretty +clothes packed in neat piles there. She +opened the large closet and displayed elaborately-made +frocks, suspended on hangers. +And all the time, with little sharp, sideways +glances, she was studying the effect on +Maida. But Maida’s face betrayed none of +the wonder and envy that Laura evidently +expected. Maida was very polite but it was +evident that she was not much interested.</p> + +<p>Next they went upstairs to a big playroom +which covered the whole top of the +house. Shelves covered with books and +toys lined the walls. A fire, burning in the +big fireplace, made it very cheerful.</p> + +<p>“Oh, what a darling doll-house,” Maida +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +exclaimed, pausing before the miniature +mansion, very elegantly furnished.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do you like it?” Laura beamed with +pride.</p> + +<p>“I just love it! Particularly because it’s +so little.”</p> + +<p>“Little!” Laura bristled. “I don’t +think it’s so very little. It’s the biggest +doll-house I ever saw. Did you ever see a +bigger one?”</p> + +<p>Maida looked embarrassed. “Only one.”</p> + +<p>“Whose was it?”</p> + +<p>“It was the one my father had built for +me at Pride’s. It was too big to be a doll’s +house. It was really a small cottage. +There were four rooms—two upstairs and +two downstairs and a staircase that you +could really walk up. But I don’t like it +half so well as this one,” Maida went on +truthfully. “I think it’s very queer but, +somehow, the smaller things are the better +I like them. I guess it’s because I’ve +seen so many big things.”</p> + +<p>Laura looked impressed and puzzled at +the same time. “And you really could +walk up the stairs? Let’s go up in the cupola,” +she suggested, after an uncertain interval +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +in which she seemed to think of +nothing else to show.</p> + +<p>The stairs at the end of the playroom led +into the cupola. Maida exclaimed with delight +over the view which she saw from the +windows. On one side was the river with +the draw-bridge, the Navy Yard and the +monument on Bunker Hill. On the other +stretched the smoky expanse of Boston with +the golden dome of the state house gleaming +in the midst of a huge, red-brick huddle.</p> + +<p>“Did you have a cupola at Pride’s Crossing?” +Laura asked triumphantly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, no—how I wish I had!”</p> + +<p>Laura beamed again.</p> + +<p>“Laura likes to have things other people +haven’t,” Maida thought.</p> + +<p>Her hostess now conducted her back over +the two flights of stairs to the lower floor. +They went into the dining-room, which was +all shining oak and glittering cut-glass; +into the parlor, which was filled with gold +furniture, puffily upholstered in blue brocade; +into the libraries, which Maida liked +best of all, because there were so many +books and—</p> + +<p>“Oh, oh, oh!” she exclaimed, stopping before +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +one of the pictures; “that’s Santa +Maria in Cosmedin. I haven’t seen that +since I left Rome.”</p> + +<p>“How long did you stay in Rome, little +girl?” a voice asked back of her. Maida +turned. Mrs. Lathrop had come into the +room.</p> + +<p>Maida arose immediately from her chair. +“We stayed in Rome two months,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Indeed. And where else did you go?”</p> + +<p>“London, Paris, Florence and Venice.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know these other pictures?” +Mrs. Lathrop asked. “I’ve been collecting +photographs of Italian churches.”</p> + +<p>Maida went about identifying the places +with little cries of joy. “Ara Coeli—I saw +in there the little wooden bambino who +cures sick people. It’s so covered with +bracelets and rings and lockets and pins +and chains that grateful people have given +it that it looks as if it were dressed in +jewels. The bambino’s such a darling little +thing with such a sweet look in its face. +That’s St. Agnes outside the wall—I saw +two dear little baby lambs blessed on the +altar there on St. Agnes’s day. One was +all covered with red garlands and the other +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +with green. Oh, they were such sweethearts! +They were going to use the fleece +to make some garment for the pope. +That’s Santa Maria della Salute—they call +it Santa Maria della <span style="font-style: italic">Volute</span> instead of <span style="font-style: italic">Salute</span> +because it’s all covered with volutes.” +Maida smiled sunnily into Mrs. Lathrop’s +face as if expecting sympathy with this +architectural joke.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Lathrop did not smile. She +looked a little staggered. She studied +Maida for a long time out of her shrewd, +light eyes.</p> + +<p>“Whose family did you travel with?” +she asked at last.</p> + +<p>Maida felt a little embarrassed. If Mrs. +Lathrop asked her certain questions, it +would place her in a very uncomfortable +position. On the one hand, Maida could +not tell a lie. On the other, her father had +told her to tell nobody that she was his +daughter.</p> + +<p>“The family of Mr. Jerome Westabrook,” +she said at last.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” It was the “oh” of a person who +is much impressed. “‘Buffalo’ Westabrook?” +Mrs. Lathrop asked. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Did your grandmother, Mrs. Flynn, go +with you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lathrop continued to look very hard +at Maida. Her eyes wandered over the little +blue frock—simple but of the best materials—over +the white “tire” of a delicate +plaided nainsook, trimmed with Valenciennes +lace, the string of blue Venetian +beads, the soft, carefully-fitted shoes.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Westabrook has a little girl, hasn’t +he?” Mrs. Lathrop said.</p> + +<p>Maida felt extremely uncomfortable now. +But she looked Mrs. Lathrop straight in +the eye. “Yes,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“About your age?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“She is an invalid, isn’t she?”</p> + +<p>“She <span style="font-style: italic">was</span>,” Maida said with emphasis.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lathrop did not ask any more questions. +She went presently into the back library. +An old gentleman sat there, reading.</p> + +<p>“That little girl who keeps the store at +the corner is in there, playing with Laura, +father,” she said. “I guess her grandmother +was a servant in <span style="font-style: normal">‘Buffalo’</span> Westabrook’s +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +family, for they traveled abroad a +year with the Westabrook family. Evidently, +they give her all the little Westabrook +girl’s clothes—she’s dressed quite out +of keeping with her station in life. Curious +how refinement rubs off—the child has +really a good deal of manner. I don’t know +that I quite like to have Laura playing with +her, though.”</p> + +<p>The two little girls returned after awhile +to the playroom.</p> + +<p>“How would you like to have me dance +for you?” Laura asked abruptly. “You +know I take fancy dancing.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Laura,” Maida said delightedly +“will you?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I will,” Laura said with her +most beaming expression. “You wait here +while I go downstairs and get into my costume. +Watch that door, for I shall make +my entrance there.”</p> + +<p>Maida waited what seemed a long time +to her. Then suddenly Laura came whirling +into the room. She had put on a little +frock of pale-blue liberty silk that lay, +skirt, bodice and tiny sleeves, in many little +pleats—“accordion-pleated,” Laura afterwards +described it. Laura’s neck and arms +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +were bare. She wore blue silk stockings +and little blue-kid slippers, heelless and tied +across the ankles with ribbons. Her hair +hung in a crimpy torrent to below her waist.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Laura, how lovely you do look!” +Maida said, “I think you’re perfectly beautiful!”</p> + +<p>Laura smiled. Lifting both arms above +her head, she floated about the room, dancing +on the very tips of her toes. Turning +and smiling over her shoulder, she bent and +swayed and attitudinized. Maida could +have watched her forever.</p> + +<p>In a few moments she disappeared again. +This time she came back in a red-silk frock +with a little bolero jacket of black velvet, +hung with many tinkling coins. Whenever +her fingers moved, a little pretty clapping +sound came from them—Maida discovered +that she carried tiny wooden clappers. +Whenever her heels came together, a pretty +musical clink came from them—Maida discovered +that on her shoes were tiny metal +plates.</p> + +<p>Once again Laura went out. This time, +she returned dressed like a little sailor boy. +She danced a gay little hornpipe.</p> + +<p>“I never saw anything so marvelous in +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +my life,” Maida said, her eyes shining with +enjoyment. “Oh, Laura how I wish I could +dance like that. How did you ever learn? +Do you practice all the time?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s not so very hard—for me,” +Laura returned. “Of course, everybody +couldn’t learn. And I suppose you, being +lame, could never do anything at all.”</p> + +<p>This was the first allusion that had been +made in Primrose Court to Maida’s lameness. +Her face shadowed a little. “No, +I’m afraid I couldn’t,” she said regretfully. +“But—oh—think what a lovely dancer +Rosie would make.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid Rosie’s too rough,” Laura +said. She unfolded a little fan and began +fanning herself languidly. “It’s a great +bother sometimes,” she went on in a bored +tone of voice. “Everybody is always asking +me to dance at their parties. I danced +at a beautiful May party last year. Did +you ever see a May-pole?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” Maida said. “My birthday +comes on May Day and last year father +gave me a party. He had a May-pole set +up on the lawn and all the children danced +about it.”</p> + +<p>“My birthday comes in the summer, too. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +I always have a party on our place in +Marblehead,” Laura said. “I had fifty +children at my party last year. How many +did you have?”</p> + +<p>“We sent out over five hundred invitations, +I believe. But not quite four hundred +accepted.”</p> + +<p>“Four hundred,” Laura repeated. +“Goodness, what could so many children +do?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, there were all sorts of things for +them to do,” Maida answered. “There +was archery and diabolo and croquet and +fishing-ponds and a merry-go-round and +Punch and Judy on the lawn and a play in +my little theater—I can’t remember everything.”</p> + +<p>Laura’s eyes had grown very big. +“Didn’t you have a perfectly splendiferous +time?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“No, not particularly,” Maida said. +“Not half such a good time as I’ve had +playing in Primrose Court. I wasn’t very +well and then, somehow, I didn’t care for +those children the way I care for Dicky and +Rosie and the court children.”</p> + +<p>“Goodness!” was all Laura could say for +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +a moment. But finally she added, “I don’t +believe that, Maida!”</p> + +<p>Maida stared at her and started to speak. +“Oh, there’s the clock striking four?” was +all she said though. “I must go. Thank +you for dancing for me.”</p> + +<p>She flew into her coat and hat. She +could not seem to get away quick enough. +Nobody had ever doubted her word before. +She could not exactly explain it to herself +but she felt if she talked with Laura another +moment, she would fly out of her skin.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>“Mother,” Laura said, after Maida had +gone, “Maida Flynn told me that her father +gave her a birthday party last year and invited +five hundred children to it and they +had a theater and a Punch and Judy show +and all sorts of things. Do you think it’s +true?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lathrop set her lips firmly. “No, +I think it is probably not true. I think +you’d better not play with the little Flynn +girl any more.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The next afternoon, Maida went, as she +had promised, to see Dicky. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>She could see at a glance that Mrs. Dore +was having a hard struggle to support her +little family. In the size and comfort of +its furnishings, the place was the exact opposite +of the Lathrop home. But, somehow, +there was a wonderful feeling of home +there.</p> + +<p>“Dicky, how do you manage to keep so +clean here?” Maida asked in genuine wonder.</p> + +<p>And indeed, hard work showed everywhere. +The oilcloth shone like glass. The +stove was as clean as a newly-polished shoe. +The rows of pans on the wall fairly twinkled. +Delicious smells were filling the air. +Maida guessed that Dicky was making one +of the Irish stews that were his specialty.</p> + +<p>“See that little truck over there?” Dicky +said. “That helps a lot. Arthur Duncan +made that for me. You see we have to +keep our coal in that closet, way across the +room. I used to get awful tired filling the +coal-hod and lugging it over to the stove. +But now you see I fill that truck at the +closet, wheel it over to the stove and I don’t +have to think of coal for three days.”</p> + +<p>“Arthur must be a very clever boy,” +Maida said thoughtfully. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You bet he is. See that tin can in the +sink? Well, I wanted a soap-shaker but +couldn’t afford to get one. Arthur took +that can and punched the bottom full of +holes. I keep it filled up with all the odds +and ends of soap. When I wash the dishes, +I just let the boiling water from the kettle +flow through it. It makes water grand +and soapy. Arthur made me that iron +dish-rag and that dish-mop.”</p> + +<p>A sleepy cry came from the corner. +Dicky swung across the room. Balancing +himself against the cradle there, he lifted +the baby to the floor. “She can’t walk yet +but you watch her go,” he said proudly.</p> + +<p>Go! The baby crept across the room so +fast that Maida had to run to keep up with +her. “Oh, the love!” she said, taking Delia +into her arms. “Think of having a whole +baby to yourself.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t leave a thing round where she is,” +Dicky said proudly, as if this were the best +thing he could say about her. “Have to +put <span style="font-style: italic">my</span> work away the moment she wakes +up. Isn’t she a buster, though?”</p> + +<p>“I should say she was!” And indeed, +the baby was as fat as a little partridge. +Maida wondered how Dicky could lift her. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +Also Delia was as healthy-looking as Dicky +was sickly. Her cheeks showed a pink that +was almost purple and her head looked like +a mop, so thickly was it overgrown with +tangled, red-gold curls.</p> + +<p>“Is she named after your mother?” +Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“No—after my grandmother in Ireland. +But of course we don’t call her anything +but ‘baby’ yet. My, but she’s a case! If +I didn’t watch her all the time, every pan +in this room would be on the floor in a +jiffy. And she tears everything she puts +her hands on.”</p> + +<p>“Granny must see her sometime—Granny’s +name is Delia.”</p> + +<p>“Hi, stop that!” Dicky called. For +Delia had discovered the little bundle that +Maida had placed on a chair, and was busy +trying to tear it open.</p> + +<p>“Let her open it,” Maida said, “I brought +it for her.”</p> + +<p>They watched.</p> + +<p>It took a long time, but Delia sat down, +giving her whole attention to it. Finally +her busy fingers pulled off so much paper +that a pair of tiny rubber dolls dropped into +her lap. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Say ‘Thank you, Maida,’” Dicky +prompted.</p> + +<p>Delia said something and Dicky assured +her that the baby had obeyed him. It +sounded like, “Sank-oo-Maysa.”</p> + +<p>While Delia occupied herself with the +dolls, Maida listened to Dicky’s reading +lesson. He was getting on beautifully now. +At least he could puzzle out by himself +some of the stories that Maida lent him. +When they had finished that day’s fairy-tale, +Dicky said:</p> + +<p>“Did you ever see a peacock, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes—a great many.”</p> + +<p>“Where?”</p> + +<p>“I saw ever so many in the Jardin des +Plantes in Paris and then my father has +some in his camp in the Adirondacks.”</p> + +<p>“Has he many?”</p> + +<p>“A dozen.”</p> + +<p>“I’m just wild to see one. Are they as +beautiful as that picture in the fairy-tale?”</p> + +<p>“They’re as beautiful as—as—” Maida +groped about in her mind to find something +to compare them to “—as angels,” she said +at last.</p> + +<p>“And do they really open their tails like +a fan?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That is the most wonderful sight, Dicky, +that you ever saw.” Maida’s manner was +almost solemn. “When they unfurl the +whole fan and the sun shines on all the +green and blue eyes and on all the little gold +feathers, it’s so beautiful. Well, it makes +you ache. I <span style="font-style: italic">cried</span> the first time I saw one. +And when their fans are down, they carry +them so daintily, straight out, not a single +feather trailing on the ground. There are +two white peacocks on the Adirondacks +place.”</p> + +<p>“<span style="font-style: italic">White</span> peacocks! I never heard of +white ones.”</p> + +<p>“They’re not common.”</p> + +<p>“Think of seeing a dozen peacocks every +day!” Dicky exclaimed. “Jiminy crickets! +Why, Maida, your life must have been just +like a fairy-tale when you lived there.”</p> + +<p>“It seems more like a fairy-tale here.”</p> + +<p>They laughed at this difference of opinion.</p> + +<p>“Dicky,” Maida asked suddenly, “do you +know that Rosie steals out of her window +at night sometimes when her mother doesn’t +know it?”</p> + +<p>“Sure—I know that. You see,” he went +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +on to explain, “it’s like this. Rosie is an +awful bad girl in some ways—there’s no +doubt about that. But my mother says +Rosie isn’t as bad as she seems. My mother +says Rosie’s mother has never learned how +to manage her. She whips Rosie an awful +lot. And the more she whips Rosie, the +naughtier she gets. Rosie says she’s going +to run away some day, and by George, I +bet she’ll do it. She always does what she +says she’ll do.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it dreadful?” Maida said in a +frightened tone. “Run away! I never +heard of such a thing. Think of having a +mother and then not getting along with her. +Suppose she died sometime, as my mother +did.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what I’d do without my +mother,” Dicky said thoughtfully. “But +then I’ve got the best mother that ever was. +I wish she didn’t have to work so hard. +But you wait until I get on my feet. Then +you’ll see how I’m going to earn money for +her.”</p> + +<p>When Maida got home that night, Billy +Potter sat with Granny in the living-room. +Maida came in so quietly that they took no +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +notice of her. Granny was talking. Maida +could see that the tears were coursing down +the wrinkles in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>“And after that, the poor choild ran away +to America and I niver have seen her since. +Her father died repenting av his anger +aginst her. But ut was too late. At last, +in me old age, Oi came over to America, +hoping Oi cud foind her. But, glory be, Oi +had no idea ’twas such a big place! And +Oi’ve hunted and Oi’ve hunted and Oi’ve +hunted. But niver a track of her cud Oi +foind—me little Annie!”</p> + +<p>Billy’s face was all screwed up, but it was +not with laughter. “Did you ever speak to +Mr. Westabrook about it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Misther Westabruk done iv’ry t’ing +he cud—the foine man that he is. +Adver<span style="font-style: italic">tise</span>ments +and <span style="font-style: italic">de</span>tayktives, +but wid all his +money, he cudn’t foind out a t’ing. If ut +wasn’t for my blissed lamb, I’d pray to the +saints to let me die.”</p> + +<p>Maida knew what they were talking about—Granny +had often told her the sad story +of her lost daughter.</p> + +<p>“What town in Ireland did you live in, +Granny?” Billy asked.</p> + +<p>“Aldigarey, County Sligo.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +“Now don’t you get discouraged, Granny,” +Billy said, “I’m going to find your +daughter for you.”</p> + +<p>He jumped to his feet and walked about +the room. “I’m something of a detective +myself, and you’ll see I’ll make good on this +job if it takes twenty years.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy, do—please do,” Maida burst +in. “It will make Granny so happy.”</p> + +<p>Granny seemed happier already. She +dried her tears.</p> + +<p>“’Tis the good b’y ye are, Misther Billy,” +she said gratefully.</p> + +<p>“Yes, m’m,” said Billy.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>TROUBLE</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>The next week was a week of trouble +for Maida. Everything seemed to go +wrong from the first tinkle of the bell, Monday +morning, to the last tinkle Saturday +night.</p> + +<p>It began with a conversation.</p> + +<p>Rosie came marching in early Monday, +head up, eyes flaming.</p> + +<p>“Maida,” she began at once, in her quickest, +briskest tone, “I’ve got something to +tell you. Laura Lathrop came over to +Dicky’s house the other day while the W.M.N.T.’s +were meeting and she told us the +greatest mess of stuff about you. I told her +I was coming right over and tell you about +it and she said, ‘All right, you can.’ Laura +said that you said that last summer you had +a birthday party that you invited five hundred +children to. She said that you said +that you had a May-pole at this party and +a fish pond and a Punch and Judy show +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +and all sorts of things. She said that you +said that you had a big doll-house and a little +theater all your own. I said that I +didn’t believe that you told her all that. Did +you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I told her that—and more,” +Maida answered directly.</p> + +<p>“Laura said it was all a pack of lies, but +I don’t believe that. Is it all true?”</p> + +<p>“It’s all true,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>Rosie looked at her hard. “You know, +Maida,” she went on after awhile, “you +told me about a lot of birds and animals +that your father had. I thought he kept +a bird-place. But Dicky says you told him +that your father had twelve peacocks, not +in a store, but in a place where he lives.” +She paused and looked inquiringly at +Maida.</p> + +<p>Maida answered the look. “Yes, I told +him that.”</p> + +<p>“And it’s all true?” Rosie asked again.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s all true,” Maida repeated.</p> + +<p>Rosie hesitated a moment. “Harold +Lathrop says that you’re daffy.”</p> + +<p>Maida said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Arthur Duncan says,” Rosie went on +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +more timidly, “that you probably dreamed +those things.”</p> + +<p>Still Maida said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Do you think you did dream them, +Maida?”</p> + +<p>Maida smiled. “No, I didn’t dream +them.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I thought of another thing,” +Rosie went on eagerly. “Miss Allison told +mother that Granny told her that you’d +been sick for a long time. And I thought, +maybe you were out of your head and imagined +those things. Oh, Maida,” Rosie’s +voice actually coaxed her to favor this +theory, “don’t you think you imagined +them?”</p> + +<p>Maida laughed. “No, Rosie,” she said +in her quietest voice, “I did not imagine +them.”</p> + +<p>For a moment neither of the two little +girls spoke. But they stared, a little defiantly, +into each other’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“What did Dicky say?” Maida asked +after awhile.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dicky said he would believe anything +you told him, no matter what it was. +Dicky says he believes you’re a princess in +disguise—like in fairy-tales.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Dear, dear Dicky!” Maida said. “He +was the first friend I made in Primrose +Court and I guess he’s the best one.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess I’m your friend,” Rosie +said, firing up; “I told that little smarty-cat +of a Laura if she ever said one word +against you, I’d slap her good and hard. +Only—only—it seems strange that a little +girl who’s just like the rest of us should +have story-book things happening to her all +the time. If it’s true—then fairy-tales are +true.” She paused and looked Maida +straight in the eye. “I can’t believe it, +Maida. But I know you believe it. And +that’s all there is to it. But you’d better +believe I’m your friend.”</p> + +<p>Saying which she marched out.</p> + +<p>Maida’s second trouble began that night.</p> + +<p>It had grown dark. Suddenly, without +any warning, the door of the shop flew open. +For an instant three or four voices filled the +place with their yells. Then the door shut. +Nothing was heard but the sound of running +feet.</p> + +<p>Granny and Maida rushed to the door. +Nobody was in sight.</p> + +<p>“Who was it? What does it mean, Granny?” +Maida asked in bewilderment. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +“Only naughty b’ys, taysing you,” +Granny explained.</p> + +<p>Maida had hardly seated herself when the +performance was repeated. Again she +rushed to the door. Again she saw nobody. +The third time she did not stir from her +chair.</p> + +<p>Tuesday night the same thing happened. +Who the boys were Maida could not find +out. Why they bothered her, she could not +guess.</p> + +<p>“Take no notuce av ut, my lamb,” Granny +counselled. “When they foind you pay no +attintion to ut, they’ll be afther stopping.”</p> + +<p>Maida followed Granny’s advice. But +the annoyance did not cease and she began +to dread the twilight. She made up her +mind that she must put an end to it soon. +She knew she could stop it at once by appealing +to Billy Potter. And, yet, somehow, +she did not want to ask for outside +help. She had a feeling of pride about +handling her own troubles.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Laura came into the shop. +It was the first time that Maida had seen +her since the afternoon of her call and +Maida did not speak. She felt that she +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +could not have anything to do with Laura +after what had happened. But she looked +straight at Laura and waited.</p> + +<p>Laura did not speak either. She looked +at Maida as if she had never seen her before. +She carried her head at its highest +and she moved across the room with her +most important air. As she stood a moment +gazing at the things in the show case, +she had never seemed more patronizing.</p> + +<p>“A cent’s worth of dulse, please,” she +said airily.</p> + +<p>“Dulse?” Maida repeated questioningly; +“I guess I haven’t any. What is dulse?”</p> + +<p>“Haven’t any dulse?” Laura repeated +with an appearance of being greatly +shocked. “Do you mean to say you haven’t +any dulse?”</p> + +<p>Maida did not answer—she put her lips +tight together.</p> + +<p>“This is a healthy shop,” Laura went on +in a sneering tone, “no mollolligobs, no apple-on-the-stick, +no tamarinds, no pop-corn +balls, no dulse. Why don’t you sell the +things we want? Half the children in the +neighborhood are going down to Main +Street to get them now.”</p> + +<p>She bustled out of the shop. Maida +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +stared after her with wide, alarmed eyes. +For a moment she did not stir. Then she +ran into the living-room and buried her face +in Granny’s lap, bursting into tears.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Granny,” she sobbed, “Laura Lathrop +says that half the children don’t like +my shop and they’re going down to Main +Street to buy things. What shall I do? +What shall I do?”</p> + +<p>“There, there, acushla,” Granny said +soothingly, taking the trembling little girl +on to her lap. “Don’t worry about anny +t’ing that wan says. ’Tis a foine little shop +you have, as all the grown folks says.”</p> + +<p>“But, Granny,” Maida protested passionately, +“I don’t want to please the grown +people, I want to please the children. And +papa said I must make the store pay. And +now I’m afraid I never will. Oh, what +shall I do?”</p> + +<p>She got no further. A tinkle of the bell, +followed by pattering footsteps, interrupted. +In an instant, Rosie, brilliant in +her scarlet cape and scarlet hat, with cheeks +and lips the color of cherries, stood at her +side.</p> + +<p>“I saw that hateful Laura come out of +here,” she said. “I just knew she’d come +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +in to make trouble. What did she say to +you?”</p> + +<p>Maida told her slowly between her sobs.</p> + +<p>“Horrid little smarty-cat!” was Rosie’s +comment and she scowled until her face +looked like a thunder-cloud.</p> + +<p>“I shall never speak to her again,” Maida +declared fervently. “But what shall I do +about it, Rosie?—it may be true what she +said.”</p> + +<p>“Now don’t you get discouraged, +Maida,” Rosie said. “Because I can tell +you just how to get or make those things +Laura spoke of.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, can you, Rosie. What would I do +without you? I’ll put everything down in +a book so that I shan’t forget them.”</p> + +<p>She limped over to the desk. There the +black head bent over the golden one.</p> + +<p>“What is dulse?” Maida demanded first.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know what dulse is?” Rosie +asked incredulously. “Maida, you are the +queerest child. The commonest things you +don’t know anything about. And yet I suppose +if I asked you if you’d seen a flying-machine, +you’d say you had.”</p> + +<p>“I have,” Maida answered instantly, “in +Paris.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rosie’s face wrinkled into its most perplexed +look. She changed the subject at +once. “Well, dulse is a purple stuff—when +you see a lot of it together, it looks as if a +million toy-balloons had burst. It’s all +wrinkled up and tastes salty.”</p> + +<p>Maida thought hard for a moment. Then +she burst into laughter, although the big +round tear-drops were still hanging from +the tips of her lashes. “There was a whole +drawerful here when I first came. I remember +now I thought it was waste stuff +and threw it all away.”</p> + +<p>Rosie laughed too. “The tamarinds you +can get from the man who comes round +with the wagon. Mrs. Murdock used to +make her own apples-on-the-stick, mollolligobs +and corn-balls. I’ve helped her many +a time. Now I’ll write you a list of stuff +to order from the grocer. I’ll come round +after school and we’ll make a batch of all +those things. To-night you get Billy to +print a sign, ‘<span style="font-style: italic">apples on the stick and +mollolligobs to-day</span>.’ You put that in the +window to-morrow morning and by to-morrow +night, you’ll be all sold out.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie,” Maida said happily, “I shall +be so much obliged to you!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> + +<p>Rosie was as good as her word. She appeared +that afternoon wearing a long-sleeved +apron under the scarlet cape. It +seemed to Maida that she worked like lightning, +for she made batch after batch of +candy, moving as capably about the stove +as an experienced cook. In the meantime, +Maida was popping corn at the fireplace. +They mounted fifty apples on skewers and +dipped them, one at a time, into the boiling +candy. They made thirty corn-balls and +twenty-five mollolligobs, which turned out to +be round chunks of candy, stuck on the end +of sticks.</p> + +<p>“I never did see such clever children anywhere +as there are in Primrose Court,” +Maida said that night with a sigh to +Granny. “Rosie told me that she could +make six kinds of candy. And Dicky +can cook as well as his mother. They +make me feel so useless. Why, Granny, +I can’t do a single thing that’s any good to +anybody.”</p> + +<p>The next day the shop was crowded. By +night there was not an apple, a corn-ball or +a mollolligob left.</p> + +<p>“I shall have a sale like this once a week +in the future,” Maida said. “Why, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +Granny, lots and lots of children came here +who’d never been in the shop before.”</p> + +<p>And so what looked like serious trouble +ended very happily.</p> + +<p>Trouble number three was a great deal +more serious and it did not, at first, promise +to end well at all. It had to do with Arthur +Duncan. It had been going on for a week +before Maida mentioned it to anybody. +But it haunted her very dreams.</p> + +<p>Early Monday morning, Arthur came into +the shop. In his usual gruff voice and with +his usual surly manner, he said, “Show me +some of those rubbers in the window.”</p> + +<p>Maida took out a handful of the rubbers—five, +she thought—and put them on the +counter. While Arthur looked them over, +she turned to replace a paper-doll which +she had knocked down.</p> + +<p>“Guess I won’t take one to-day,” Arthur +said, while her back was still turned, and +walked out.</p> + +<p>When Maida put the rubbers back, she +discovered that there were only four. She +made up her mind that she had not counted +right and thought no more of the incident.</p> + +<p>Two days later, Arthur Duncan came in +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +again. Maida had just been selling some +pencils—pretty striped ones with a blue +stone in the end. Three of them were left +lying out on the counter. Arthur asked +her to show him some penholders. Maida +took three from the shelves back of her. +He bought one of these. After he had gone, +she discovered that there were only two +pencils left on the counter.</p> + +<p>“One of them must have rolled off,” +Maida thought. But although she looked +everywhere, she could not find it. The incident +of the rubber occurred to her. She +felt a little troubled but she resolved to put +both circumstances out of her mind.</p> + +<p>A day or two later, Arthur Duncan came +in for the third time. It happened that +Granny was out marketing.</p> + +<p>Piled on the counter was a stack of blank-books—pretty +books they were, with a +child’s head in color on the cover. Arthur +asked for letter-paper. Maida turned back +to the shelf. With her hand on the sliding +door, she stopped, half-stunned.</p> + +<p><span style="font-style: italic">Reflected in the glass she saw Arthur Duncan +stow one of the blank books away in his +pocket.</span></p> + +<p>Maida felt sick all over. She did not +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +know what to do. She did not know what +to say.</p> + +<p>She fumbled with trembling hands among +the things on the shelf. She dreaded to +turn for fear her face would express what +she had seen.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he’ll pay for it,” she thought; +“I hope he will.”</p> + +<p>But Arthur made no offer to pay. He +looked over the letter-paper that Maida, +with downcast eyes, put before him, decided +that he did not want any after all, and +walked coolly from the shop.</p> + +<p>Granny, coming in a few moments later, +was surprised to find Maida leaning on the +counter, her face buried in her hands.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with my lamb?” the +old lady asked cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“Nothing, Granny,” Maida said. But +she did not meet Granny’s eye and during +dinner she was quiet and serious.</p> + +<p>That night Billy Potter called. “Well, +how goes the <span style="font-style: italic">Bon Marché of</span> Charlestown?” +he asked cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“Billy,” Maida said gravely, “if you +found that a little boy—I can’t say what his +name is—was stealing from you, what would +you do?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p>Billy considered the question as gravely +as she had asked it. “Tell the policeman +on the beat and get him to throw a scare +into him,” he said at last.</p> + +<p>“I guess that’s what I’ll have to do.” +But Maida’s tone was mournful.</p> + +<p>But Granny interrupted.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you do ut, my lamb—don’t you +do ut!” She turned to them both—they +had never seen her blue eyes so fiery before. +“Suppose you was one av these poor little +chilthren that lives round here that’s always +had harrd wurruds for their meals +and hunger for their pillow, wudn’t you be +afther staling yersilf if ut came aisy-loike +and nobody was luking?”</p> + +<p>Neither Billy nor Maida spoke for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I guess Granny’s right,” Billy said +finally.</p> + +<p>“I guess she is,” Maida said with a sigh.</p> + +<p>It was three days before Arthur Duncan +came into the shop again. But in the +meantime, Maida went one afternoon to +play with Dicky. Dicky was drawing at a +table when Maida came in. She glanced at +his work. He was using a striped pencil +with a blue stone in its end, a blank-book +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +with the picture of a little girl on the cover, +a rubber of a kind very familiar to her. +Maida knew certainly that Dicky had +bought none of these things from her. She +knew as certainly that they were the things +Arthur Duncan had stolen. What was the +explanation of the mystery? She went to +bed that night miserably unhappy.</p> + +<p>Her heart beat pit-a-pat the next time +she saw Arthur open the door. She folded +her hands close together so that he should +not see that she was trembling. She began +to wish that she had followed Billy’s advice. +Sitting in the shop all alone—Granny, +it happened again, was out—it occurred +to her that it was, perhaps, too +serious a situation for a little girl to deal +with.</p> + +<p>She had made up her mind that when +Arthur was in the shop, she would not turn +her back to him. She was determined not +to give him the chance to fall into temptation. +But he asked for pencil-sharpeners +and pencil-sharpeners were kept in the lower +drawer. There was nothing for her to +do but to get down on the floor. She remembered +with a sense of relief that she +had left no stock out on the counter. She +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +knelt upright on the floor, seeking for the +box. Suddenly, reflected in the glass door, +she saw another terrifying picture.</p> + +<p><span style="font-style: italic">Arthur Duncan’s arm was just closing +the money drawer.</span></p> + +<p>For an instant Maida felt so sick at heart +that she wanted to run back into the living-room, +throw herself into Granny’s big chair +and cry her eyes out. Then suddenly all +this weakness went. A feeling, such as she +had never known, came into its place. She +was still angry but she was singularly cool. +She felt no more afraid of Arthur Duncan +than of the bowl of dahlias, blooming on +the counter.</p> + +<p>She whirled around in a flash and looked +him straight in the eye.</p> + +<p>“If there is anything in this shop that +you want so much that you are willing to +steal, tell me what it is and I’ll give it to +you,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Aw, what are you talking about?” Arthur +demanded. He attempted to out-stare +her.</p> + +<p>But Maida kept her eyes steadily on his. +“You know what I’m talking about well +enough,” she said quietly. “In the last +week you’ve stolen a rubber and a pencil and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +a blank-book from me and just now you +tried to take some money from the money-drawer.”</p> + +<p>Arthur sneered. “How are you going to +prove it?” he asked impudently.</p> + +<p>Maida was thoroughly angry. But something +inside warned her that she must not +give way to temper. For all her life, she had +been accustomed to think before she spoke. +Indeed, she herself had never been driven or +scolded. Her father had always reasoned +with her. Doctors and nurses had always +reasoned with her. Even Granny had always +reasoned with her. So, now, she +thought very carefully before she spoke +again. But she kept her eyes fixed on Arthur. +His eyes did not move from hers but, +in some curious way, she knew that he was +uneasy.</p> + +<p>“I can’t prove it,” she said at last, “and +I hadn’t any idea of trying to. I’m only +warning you that you must not come in here +if you’re not to be trusted. And I told you +the truth when I said I would rather give +you anything in the shop than have you steal +it. For I think you must need those things +very badly to be willing to get them that +way. I don’t believe anybody <span style="font-style: italic">wants</span> to +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +steal. Now when you want anything so bad +as that, come to me and I’ll see if I can get +it for you.”</p> + +<p>Arthur stared at her as if he had not a +word on his tongue. “If you think you can +frighten me,—” he said. Then, without +ending his sentence, he swaggered out of the +shop. But to Maida his swagger seemed +like something put on to conceal another +feeling.</p> + +<p>Maida suddenly felt very tired. She +wished that Granny Flynn would come back. +She wanted Granny to take her into her +lap, to cuddle her, to tell her some merry +little tale of the Irish fairies. But, instead, +the bell rang and another customer came in. +While she was waiting on her, Maida noticed +somebody come stealthily up to the +window, look in and then duck down. She +wondered if it might be Billy playing one +of his games on her.</p> + +<p>The customer went out. In a few moments +the bell tinkled again. Maida had +been leaning against the counter, her tired +head on her outstretched arms. She looked +up. It was Arthur Duncan.</p> + +<p>He strode straight over to her.</p> + +<p>“Here’s three cents for your rubber,” he +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +said, “and five for your pencil, five for the +blank book and there’s two dimes I took out +of the money-drawer.”</p> + +<p>Maida did not know what to say. The +tears came to her eyes and rolled down her +cheeks. Arthur shifted his weight from one +foot to the other in intense embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know it would make you feel +as bad as that,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I don’t feel bad,” Maida sobbed—and to +prove it she smiled while the tears ran down +her cheeks—“I feel glad.”</p> + +<p>What he would have answered to this she +never knew. For at that moment the door +flew open. The little rowdy boys who had +been troubling her so much lately, let out a +series of blood-curdling yells.</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” Arthur asked.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know who they are,” Maida said +wearily, “but they do that three or four +times every night. I don’t know what to +do about it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I do,” Arthur said. “You wait!”</p> + +<p>He went over to the door and waited, flattening +himself against the wall. After a +long silence, they could hear footsteps tip-toeing +on the bricks outside. The door flew +open. Arthur Duncan leaped like a cat +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +through the opening. There came back to +Maida the sound of running, then a pause, +then another sound very much as if two or +three naughty little heads were being vigorously +knocked together. She heard Arthur +say:</p> + +<p>“Let me catch one of you doing that again +and I’ll lick you till you can’t stand up. +And remember I’ll be watching for you +every night now.”</p> + +<p>Maida did not see him again then. But +just before dinner the bell rang. When +Maida opened the door there stood Arthur.</p> + +<p>“I had this kitten and I thought you +might like him,” he said awkwardly, holding +out a little bundle of gray fluff.</p> + +<p>“Want it!” Maida said. She seized it +eagerly. “Oh, thank you, Arthur, ever so +much. Oh, Granny, look at this darling +kit-kat. What a ball of fluff he is! I’ll +call him Fluff. And he isn’t an Angora or +a prize kitty of any kind—just a beautiful +plain everyday cat—the kind I’ve always +wanted!”</p> + +<p>Even this was not all. After dinner the +shop bell rang again. This time it was Arthur +and Rosie. Rosie’s lips were very +tight as if she had made up her mind to +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +some bold deed but her flashing eyes showed +her excitement.</p> + +<p>“Can we see you alone for a moment, +Maida?” she asked in her most business-like +tones.</p> + +<p>Wondering, Maida shut the door to the +living-room and came back to them.</p> + +<p>“Maida,” Rosie began, “Arthur told me +all about the rubber and the pencil and the +blank book and the dimes. Of course, I felt +pretty bad when I heard about it. But I +wanted Arthur to come right over here and +explain the whole thing to you. You see +Arthur took those things to give away to +Dicky because Dicky has such a hard time +getting anything he wants.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I saw them over at Dicky’s,” Maida +said.</p> + +<p>“And then, there was a great deal more to +it that Arthur’s just told me and I thought +you ought to know it at once. You see Arthur’s +father belongs to a club that meets +once a month and Arthur goes there a lot +with him. And those men think that plenty +of people have things that they have no +right to—oh, like automobiles—I mean, +things that they haven’t earned. And the +men in Mr. Duncan’s club say that it’s perfectly +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +right to take things away from people +who have too much and give them to people +who have too little. But I say that may be +all right for grown people but when children +do it, it’s just plain <span style="font-style: italic">stealing</span>. And that’s +all there is to it! But I wanted you to know +that Arthur thought it was right—well sort +of right, you understand—when he took +those things. You don’t think so now, do +you, after the talking-to I’ve given you?” +She turned severely on Arthur.</p> + +<p>Arthur shuffled and looked embarrassed. +“No,” he said sheepishly, “not until you’re +grown up.”</p> + +<p>“But what I wanted to say next, Maida,” +Rosie continued, “is, please not to tell +Dicky. He would be so surprised—and +then he wouldn’t keep the things that Arthur +gave him. And of course now that +Arthur has paid for them—they’re all right +for him to have.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I wouldn’t tell anybody,” +Maida said in a shocked voice, “not even +Granny or Billy—not even my father.”</p> + +<p>“Then that’s settled,” Rosie said with a +sigh. “Good night.”</p> + +<p>The next day the following note reached Maida: +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 3.00em; margin-left: 4.00em; margin-top: 2.00em; margin-right: 4.00em"> +You are cordully invited to join the W.M.N.T. Club which meets three times a +week at the house of Miss Rosie Brine, or Mr. Richard Dore or Mr. Arthur Duncan. +<br /><br /> +P.S. The name means, WE MUST +NEVER TELL.</p> + +<p>Maida dreamed nothing but happy +dreams that night.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>A RAINY DAY</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>The next day it rained dismally. Maida +had been running the shop for three +weeks but this was her first experience with +stormy weather. Because she, herself, had +never been allowed to set her foot outdoors +when the weather was damp, she expected +that she would see no children that day. +But long before the bell rang they crowded +in wet streaming groups into the shop. And +at nine the lines disappearing into the big +school doorways seemed as long as ever.</p> + +<p>Even the Clark twins in rubber boots, +long rain-capes and a baby umbrella came +in to spend their daily pennies.</p> + +<p>“I guess it’ll be one session, Maida,” +Dorothy whispered.</p> + +<p>“Oh goody, Dorothy!” Mabel lisped. +“Don’t you love one session, Maida?”</p> + +<p>Maida was ashamed to confess to two such +tiny girls that she did not know what “one +session” meant. But she puzzled over it +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +the whole morning. If Rosie and Arthur +had come in she would have asked them. +But neither of them appeared. Indeed, +they were not anywhere in the lines—Maida +looked very carefully.</p> + +<p>At twelve o’clock the school bell did not +ring. In surprise, Maida craned out of the +window to consult the big church clock. It +agreed exactly with the tall grandfather’s +clock in the living-room. Both pointed to +twelve, then to five minutes after and ten +and fifteen—still no bell.</p> + +<p>A little later Dicky came swinging along, +the sides of his old rusty raincoat flapping +like the wings of some great bird.</p> + +<p>“It’s one-session, Maida,” he said jubilantly, +“did you hear the bell?”</p> + +<p>“What’s one session, Dicky?” Maida +asked.</p> + +<p>“Why, when it’s too stormy for the children +to go to school in the afternoon the fire-bells +ring twenty-two at quarter to twelve. +They keep all the classes in until one +o’clock though.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s why they don’t come out,” +Maida said.</p> + +<p>At one o’clock the umbrellas began to file +out of the school door. The street looked +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +as if it had grown a monster crop of shiny +black toad-stools. But it was the only sign +of life that the neighborhood showed for the +rest of the day. The storm was too violent +for even the big boys and girls to brave. A +very long afternoon went by. Not a customer +came into the shop. Maida felt very +lonely. She wandered from shop to living-room +and from living-room to chamber. +She tried to read. She sewed a little. She +even popped corn for a lonesome fifteen +minutes. But it seemed as if the long dark +day would never go.</p> + +<p>As they were sitting down to dinner that +night, Billy bounced in—his face pink and +wet, his eyes sparkling like diamonds from +his conflict with the winds.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy, how glad I am to see you,” +Maida said. “It’s been the lonesomest +day.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, the sight av ye’s grand for sore +eyes,” said Granny.</p> + +<p>Maida had noticed that Billy’s appearance +always made the greatest difference in +everything. Before he came, the noise of +the wind howling about the store made +Maida sad. Now it seemed the jolliest of +sounds. And when at seven, Rosie appeared, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +Maida’s cup of happiness brimmed +over.</p> + +<p>While Billy talked with Granny, the two +little girls rearranged the stock.</p> + +<p>“My mother was awful mad with me just +before supper,” Rosie began at once. “It +seems as if she was so cross lately that +there’s no living with her. She picks on +me all the time. That’s why I’m here. She +sent me to bed. But I made up my mind +I wouldn’t go to bed. I climbed out my bedroom +window and came over here.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie, I wish you wouldn’t do that,” +Maida said. “Oh, do run right home! +Think how worried your mother would be +if she went up into your room and found you +gone. She wouldn’t know what had become +of you.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, what makes her so strict with +me?” Rosie cried. Her eyes had grown as +black as thunder clouds. The scowl that +made her face so sullen had come deep between +her eyebrows.</p> + +<p>“Oh, how I wish I had a mother,” Maida +said longingly. “I guess I wouldn’t say a +word to her, no matter how strict she was.”</p> + +<p>“I guess you don’t know what you’d do +until you tried it,” Rosie said. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>Granny and Billy had been curiously +quiet in the other room. Suddenly Billy +Potter stepped to the door.</p> + +<p>“I’ve just thought of a great game, children,” +he said. “But we’ve got to play it +in the kitchen. Bring some crayons, +Maida.”</p> + +<p>The children raced after him. “What is +it?” they asked in chorus.</p> + +<p>Billy did not answer. He lifted Granny’s +easy-chair with Granny, knitting and +all, and placed it in front of the kitchen +stove. Then he began to draw a huge rectangle +on the clean, stone floor.</p> + +<p>“Guess,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Sure and Oi know what ut’s going to +be,” smiled Granny.</p> + +<p>Maida and Rosie watched him closely. +Suddenly they both shouted together:</p> + +<p>“Hopscotch! Hopscotch!”</p> + +<p>“Right you are!” Billy approved. He +searched among the coals in the hod until +he found a hard piece of slate.</p> + +<p>“All ready now!” he said briskly. +“Your turn, first, Rosie, because you’re +company.”</p> + +<p>Rosie failed on “fivesy.” Maida’s turn +came next and she failed on “threesy.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +Billy followed Maida but he hopped on the +line on “twosy.”</p> + +<p>“Oi belave Oi cud play that game, ould as +Oi am,” Granny said suddenly.</p> + +<p>“I bet you could,” Billy said.</p> + +<p>“Sure, ’twas a foine player Oi was when +Oi was a little colleen.”</p> + +<p>“Come on, Granny,” Billy said.</p> + +<p>The two little girls jumped up and down, +clapping their hands and shrieking, “Granny’s +going to play!” “Granny’s going to +play!” They made so much noise finally, +that Billy had to threaten to stand them on +their heads in a corner.</p> + +<p>Granny took her turn after Billy. She +hopped about like a very active and a very +benevolent old fairy.</p> + +<p>“Oh, doesn’t she look like the Dame in +fairy tales?” Maida said.</p> + +<p>They played for a half an hour. And +who do you suppose won? Not Maida with +all her new-found strength, not Rosie with +all her nervous energy, not Billy with all his +athletic training.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Delia Flynn, champion of America +and Ireland,” Billy greeted the victor. +“Granny, we’ll have to enter you in the next +Olympic games.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>They returned after this breathless work +to the living-room.</p> + +<p>“Now I’m going to tell you a story,” +Billy announced.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Maida squealed. “Do! +Billy tells the most wonderful stories, Rosie—stories +he’s heard and stories he’s read. +But the most wonderful ones are those that +he makes up as he goes along.”</p> + +<p>The two little girls settled themselves on +the hearth-rug at Billy’s feet. Granny sat, +not far off, working with double speed at her +neglected knitting.</p> + +<p>“Once upon a time,” Billy said, +“there +lived a little girl named Klara. And Klara +was the naughtiest little girl in the world. +She was a pretty child and a clever child +and everybody would have loved her if she +had only given them a chance. But how +can you love a child who is doing naughty +things all the time? Particularly was she +a great trial to her mother. That poor lady +was not well and needed care and attention, +herself. But instead of giving her these, +Klara gave her only hard words and disobedient +acts. The mother used sometimes +to punish her little daughter but it seemed +as if this only made her worse. Both father +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +and mother were in despair about her. +Klara seemed to be growing steadily worse +and worse. And, indeed, lately, she had +added to her naughtiness by threatening to +run away.</p> + +<p>“One night, it happened, +Klara had been +so bad that her mother had put her to bed +early. The moment her mother left the +room, Klara whipped over to the window. +‘I’m going to dress myself and climb out the +window and run away and never come back,’ +she said to herself.’</p> + +<p>“The house in which Klara lived was +built on the side of a cliff, overlooking the +sea. As Klara stood there in her nightgown +the moon began to rise and come up out of +the water. Now the moonrise is always a +beautiful sight and Klara stopped for a moment +to watch it, fascinated.</p> + +<p>“It seemed to her that she had never seen +the moon look so big before. And certainly +she had never seen it such a color—a soft +deep orange. In fact, it might have been +an immense orange—or better, a monster +pumpkin stuck on the horizon-line.</p> + +<p>“The strange thing about the moon, +though, was that it grew larger instead of +smaller. It rose higher and higher, growing +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +bigger and bigger, until it was half-way +up the curve of the sky. Then it stopped +short. Klara watched it, her eyes bulging +out of her head. In all her experience she +had never seen such a surprising thing. +And while she watched, another remarkable +thing happened. A great door in the moon +opened suddenly and there on the threshold +stood a little old lady. A strange little old +lady she was—a little old lady with short red +skirts and high, gayly-flowered draperies at +her waist, a little old lady with a tall black, +sugar-loaf hat, a great white ruff around her +neck and little red shoes with bright silver +buckles on them—a little old lady who carried +a black cat perched on one shoulder and +a broomstick in one hand.</p> + +<p>“The little old lady stooped down and +lifted something over the threshold. Klara +strained her eyes to see what it was. It +looked like a great roll of golden carpeting. +With a sudden deft movement the little old +lady threw it out of the door. It flew +straight across the ocean, unrolling as +swiftly as a ball of twine that you’ve flung +across the room. It came nearer and nearer. +The farther it got from the moon, the +faster it unrolled. After a while it struck +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +against the shore right under Klara’s window +and Klara saw that it was the wake of +the moon. She watched.</p> + +<p>“The little old lady had disappeared from +the doorway in the moon but the door did +not close. And, suddenly, still another wonderful +thing happened. The golden wake +lifted itself gradually from the water until +it was on a level with Klara’s window. +Bending down she touched it with both her +soft little hands. It was as firm and hard +as if it had been woven from strands of +gold.</p> + +<p>“‘Now’s my time to run away from my +cross mother,’ Klara said to herself. ‘I +guess that nice old lady in the moon wants +me to come and be her little girl. Well, I’ll +go. I guess they’ll be sorry in this house +to-morrow when they wake up and find +they’re never going to see me again.’</p> + +<p>“Opening the window gently that nobody +might hear her, she stepped on to the Wake +of Gold. It felt cool and hard to her little +bare feet. It inclined gently from her window. +She ran down the slope until she +reached the edge of the sea. There she hesitated. +For a moment it seemed a daring +thing to walk straight out to the moon with +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +nothing between her and the water but a +path of gold. Then she recalled how her +mother had sent her to bed and her heart +hardened. She started briskly out.</p> + +<p>“From Klara’s window it had looked +as though it would take her only a few moments +to get to the moon. But the farther +she went, the farther from her the doorway +seemed to go. But she did not mind that +the walk was so long because it was so +pretty. Looking over the edge of the Wake +of Gold, deep down in the water, she could +see all kinds of strange sights.</p> + +<p>“At one place a school of little fish swam +up to the surface of the water. Klara knelt +down and watched their pretty, graceful +motions. The longer she gazed the more +fish she saw and the more beautiful they +seemed. Pale-blue fishes with silver spots. +Pale-pink ones with golden stripes. Gorgeous +red ones with jewelled black horns. +Brilliant yellow and green ones that shone +like phosphorus. And here and there, gliding +among them, were what seemed little +angel-fish like living rainbows, whose filmy +wing-like fins changed color when they +swam.</p> + +<p>“Klara reached into the water and tried +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +to catch some of these marvelous beings.</p> + +<p>“But at her first motion—bing! The water +looked as if it were streaked with rainbow +lightning. Swish! It was dull and +clear again, with nothing between her and +the quiet, seaweed-covered bottom.</p> + +<p>“A little farther along Klara came across +a wonderful sea-grotto. Again she knelt +down on the Wake of Gold and watched. +At the bottom the sand was so white and +shiny that it might have been made of star-dust. +Growing up from it were beds of +marvelous seaflowers, opening and shutting +delicate petals, beautiful seafans that waved +with every ripple, high, thick shrubs and +towering trees in which the fishes had built +their nests. In and out among all this undergrowth, +frisked tiny sea-horses, ridden +by mischievous sea-urchins. They leaped +and trotted and galloped as if they were so +happy that they did not know what to do. +Klara felt that she must play with them. +She put one little foot into the water to attract +their attention. Bing! The water +seemed alive with scuttling things. Swish! +The grotto was so quiet that she could not +believe that there was anything living in it.</p> + +<p>“A little farther on, Klara came upon a +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +sight even more wonderful than this—a village +of mer-people. It was set so far down +in the water that it seemed a million miles +away. And yet the water was so clear that +she felt she could touch the housetops.</p> + +<p>“The mer-houses seemed to be made of a +beautiful, sparkling white coral with big, +wide-open windows through which the tide +drifted. The mer-streets seemed to be cobbled +in pearl, the sidewalks to be paved in +gold. At their sides grew mer-trees, the +highest she had ever seen, with all kinds of +beautiful singing fish roosting in their +branches. Little mer-boats of carved pink +coral with purple seaweed sails or of mother-of-pearl +with rosy, mer-flower-petal sails, +were floating through the streets. In some, +sat little mer-maidens, the sunlight flashing +on their pretty green scales, on their long, +golden tresses, on the bright mirrors they +held in their hands. Other boats held little +mer-boys who made beautiful music on the +harps they carried.</p> + +<p>“At one end of the mer-village Klara +could see one palace, bigger and more beautiful +than all the others. Through an open +window she caught a glimpse of the mer-king—a +jolly old fellow with a fat red face +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +and a long white beard sitting on a throne +of gold. At his side reclined the mer-queen—a +very beautiful lady with a skin as white +as milk and eyes as green as emeralds. Little +mer-princes and little mer-princesses +were playing on the floor with tiny mer-kittens +and tinier mer-puppies. One sweet +little mer-baby was tiptailing towards the +window with a pearl that she had stolen +from her sister’s coronet.</p> + +<p>“It seemed to Klara that this mer-village +was the most enchanting place that she had +ever seen in her life. Oh, how she wanted +to live there!</p> + +<p>“‘Oh, good mer-king,’ she called entreatingly, +‘and good mer-queen, please let me +come to live in your palace.’</p> + +<p>“Bing! The water rustled and roiled as +if all the birds of paradise that the world +contained had taken flight. Swish! It +was perfectly quiet again. The mer-village +was as deserted as a graveyard.</p> + +<p>“‘Well, if they don’t want me, they +shan’t get me,” Klara said. And she walked +on twice as proud.’</p> + +<p>“By this time she was getting closer and +closer to the moon. The nearer she came +the bigger it grew. Now it filled the entire +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +sky. The door had remained open all this +time. Through it she could see a garden—a +garden more beautiful than any fairy-tale +garden that she had ever read about. From +the doorway silvery paths stretched between +hedges as high as a giant’s head. Sometimes +these paths ended in fountains whose +spray twisted into all kinds of fairy-like +shapes. Sometimes these paths seemed to +stop flush against the clouds. Nearer +stretched flower-beds so brilliant that you +would have thought a kaleidoscope had +broken on the ground. Birds, like living +jewels, flew in and out through the tree-branches. +They sang so hard that it seemed +to Klara they must burst their little throats. +From the branches hung all kinds of precious +stones, all kinds of delicious-looking +fruits and candies.</p> + +<p>“Klara could not scramble through the +door quickly enough.</p> + +<p>“But as she put one foot on the threshold +the little old lady appeared. She looked as +if she had stepped out of a fairy-tale. And +yet Klara had a strange feeling of discomfort +when she looked at her. It seemed to +Klara that the old lady’s mouth was cruel +and her eyes hard. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>“‘Are you the little girl who’s run away?’ +the old lady asked.</p> + +<p>“‘Yes,’ Klara faltered.</p> + +<p>“‘And you want to live in the Kingdom +of the Moon?’</p> + +<p>“‘Yes.’</p> + +<p>“‘Enter then.’</p> + +<p>“The old lady stepped aside and Klara +marched across the threshold. She felt the +door swinging to behind her. She heard a +bang as it closed, shutting her out of the +world and into the moon.</p> + +<p>“And then—and then—what do you think +happened?”</p> + +<p>Billy stopped for a moment. Rosie and +Maida rose to their knees.</p> + +<p>“What happened?” they asked breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“The garden vanished as utterly as if it +were a broken soap-bubble. Gone were the +trees and the flowers; gone were the fountains +and the birds; gone, too, were the jewels, +the candies and the fruits.</p> + +<p>“The place had become a huge, dreary +waste, stretching as far as Klara could see +into the distance. It seemed to her as if all +the trash that the world had outgrown had +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +been dumped here—it was so covered with +heaps of old rubbish.</p> + +<p>“Klara turned to the old lady. She had +not changed except that her cruel mouth +sneered.</p> + +<p>“Klara burst into tears. ‘I want to go +home,’ she screamed. ‘Let me go back to my mother.’”</p> + +<p>“The old lady only smiled. ‘You open +that door and let me go back to my mother,’ +Klara cried passionately.</p> + +<p>“‘But I can’t open it,’ the old lady said. +‘It’s locked. I have no keys.’</p> + +<p>“‘Where are the keys?’ Klara asked.</p> + +<p>“The old lady pointed to the endless heaps +of rubbish. ‘There, somewhere,’ she said.</p> + +<p>“‘I’ll find them,’ Klara screamed, ‘and +open that door and run back to my home. +You shan’t keep me from my own dear +mother, you wicked woman.’</p> + +<p>“‘Nobody wants to keep you,’ the old +lady said. ‘You came of your own accord. +Find the keys if you want to go back.’</p> + +<p>“That was true and Klara wisely did not +answer. But you can fancy how she regretted +coming. She began to search among the +dump-heaps. She could find no keys. But +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +the longer she hunted the more determined +she grew. It seemed to her that she +searched for weeks and weeks.</p> + +<p>“It was very discouraging, very dirty and +very fatiguing work. She moved always in +a cloud of dust. At times it seemed as if +her back would break from bending so +much. Often she had to bite her lips to +keep from screaming with rage after she +had gone through a rubbish-pile as high as +her head and, still, no keys. All kinds of +venomous insects stung her. All kinds of +vines and brambles scratched her. All +kinds of stickers and thistles pricked her. +Her little feet and hands bled all the time. +But still she kept at it. After that first +conversation, Klara never spoke with the +old lady again. After a few days Klara left +her in the distance. At the end of a week, +the moon-door was no longer in sight when +Klara looked back.</p> + +<p>“But during all those weeks of weary +work Klara had a chance to think. She +saw for the first time what a naughty little +girl she had been and how she had worried +the kindest mother in the world. Her longing +for her mother grew so great at times +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +that she had to sit down and cry. But after +a while she would dry her eyes and go at the +hunt with fresh determination.</p> + +<p>“One day she caught a glint of something +shining from a clump of bushes. She had +to dig and dig to get at it for about these +bushes the ashes were packed down hard. +But finally she uncovered a pair of iron +keys. On one was printed in letters of +gold, ‘I’m SORRY,’ on the other, ‘I’LL +NEVER DO SO AGAIN.’</p> + +<p>“Klara seized the keys joyfully and ran +all the long way back to the great door. It +had two locks. She put one key in the upper +lock, turned it—a great bolt jarred. +She put the other key into the second lock, +turned it—a great bolt jarred. The door +swung open.</p> + +<p>“‘I’m sorry,’ Klara whispered to herself. +‘I’ll never do so again.’</p> + +<p>“She had a feeling that as long as she +said those magic words, everything would +go well with her.</p> + +<p>“Extending out from the door was the +Wake of Gold. Klara bounded through +the opening and ran. She turned back after +a few moments and there was the old lady +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +with her cat and her broomstick standing +in the doorway. But the old lady’s face had +grown very gentle and kind.</p> + +<p>“Klara did not look long. She ran as +fast as she could pelt across the golden path, +whispering, ‘I’m sorry. I will never do so +again. I’m sorry. I will never do so again. +I’m sorry. I will never do so again.’</p> + +<p>“And as she ran all the little mer-people +came to the surface of the water to encourage +her. The little mer-maidens flashed +their mirrors at her. The little mer-boys +played wonderful music on their harps. +The mer-king gave her a jolly smile and the +mer-queen blew her a kiss. All the little +mer-princesses and all the little mer-princes +held up their pets to her. Even the mer-baby +clapped her dimpled hands.</p> + +<p>“And farther on all the little sea horses +with the sea urchins on their backs assembled +in bobbing groups. And farther on all +the little rainbow fishes gathered in shining +files. As she ran all the scratches and +gashes in her flesh healed up.</p> + +<p>“After a while she reached her own window. +Opening it, she jumped in. Turning +to pull it down she saw the old lady disappear +from the doorway of the moon, saw +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +the door close upon her, saw the Wake of +Gold melt and fall into the sea where it lay +in a million gleaming spangles, saw the +moon float up into the sky, growing smaller +and smaller and paler and paler until it +was no larger than a silver plate. And now +it was the moon no longer—it was the sun. +Its rays were shining hot on her face. She +was back in her little bed. Her mother’s +arms were about her and Klara was saying, +‘I’m SORRY. I WILL NEVER DO SO +AGAIN.’”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>For a long time after Billy finished the +room was very quiet. Then suddenly Rosie +jumped to her feet. “That was a lovely +story, Billy,” she said. “But I guess I +don’t want to hear any more now. I think +I’ll go home.”</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>WORK</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>It was still raining when Maida got up +the next day. It rained all the morning. +She listened carefully at a quarter to +twelve for the one-session bell but it did not +ring. Just before school began in the afternoon +Rosie came into the shop. Maida saw +at once that something had happened to her. +Rosie’s face looked strange and she dragged +across the room instead of pattering with +her usual quick, light step.</p> + +<p>“What do you think’s happened, +Maida?” Rosie asked.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Oh, what?” Maida asked +affrighted.</p> + +<p>“When I came home from school this +noon mother wasn’t there. But Aunt +Theresa was there—she’d cooked the dinner. +She said that mother had gone away for a +visit and that she wouldn’t be back for some +time. She said she was going to keep house +for father and me while mother was gone. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +I feel dreadfully homesick and lonesome +without mother.”</p> + +<p>“Oh Rosie, I am sorry,” Maida said. +“But perhaps your mother won’t stay long. +Do you like your Aunt Theresa?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I like her. But of course she +isn’t mother.”</p> + +<p>“No, of course. Nobody is like your +mother.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; there’s something else I had to +tell you. The W.M.N.T.’s are going to +meet at Dicky’s after school this afternoon. +Be sure to come, Maida.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I’ll come.” Maida’s whole +face sparkled. “That is, if Granny doesn’t +think it’s too wet.”</p> + +<p>Rosie lingered for a few moments but she +did not seem like her usual happy-go-lucky +self. And when she left, Maida noticed that +instead of running across the street she actually +walked.</p> + +<p>All the morning long Maida talked of +nothing to Granny but the prospective meeting +of the W.M.N.T.’s. “Just think, +Granny, I never belonged to a club before,” +she said again and again.</p> + +<p>Very early she had put out on her bed the +clothes that she intended to wear—a tanbrown +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +serge of which she was particularly +fond, and her favorite “tire” of a delicate, +soft lawn. She kept rushing to the window +to study the sky. It continued to look like +the inside of a dull tin cup. She would not +have eaten any lunch at all if Granny had +not told her that she must. And her heart +sank steadily all the afternoon for the rain +continued to come down.</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose I can go, Granny,” she +faltered when the clock struck four.</p> + +<p>“Sure an you + <span style="font-style: italic">can</span>,” Granny responded +briskly.</p> + +<p>But she wrapped Maida up, as Maida herself +said: “As if I was one of papa’s +carved crystals come all the way from +China.”</p> + +<p>First Granny put on a sweater, then a +coat, then over all a raincoat. She put a +hood on her head and a veil over that. She +made her wear rubber boots and take an +umbrella. Maida got into a gale of laughter +during the dressing.</p> + +<p>“I ought to be wrapped in excelsior now,” +she said. “If I fall down in the puddle in +the court, Granny,” she threatened merrily, +“I never can pick myself up. I’ll either +have to roll and roll and roll until I get on +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +to dry land or I’ll have to wait until somebody +comes and shovels me out.”</p> + +<p>But she did not fall into the puddle. She +walked carefully along the edge and then +ran as swiftly as her clothes and lameness +would permit. She arrived in Dicky’s garret, +red-cheeked and breathless.</p> + +<p>Arthur and Rosie had already come. +Rosie was playing on the floor with Delia +and the puppy that she had rescued from +the tin-can persecution. Rosie was growling, +the dog was yelping and Delia was +squealing—but all three with delight.</p> + +<p>Arthur and Dicky sat opposite each other, +working at the round table.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of that dog now, +Maida?” Rosie asked proudly. “His name +is <span style="font-style: normal">‘Tag.’</span> You wouldn’t know him for the +same dog, would you? Isn’t he a nice-looking +little puppy?”</p> + +<p>Tag did look like another dog. He wore +a collar and his yellowy coat shone like +satin. His whole manner had changed. He +came running over to Maida and stood looking +at her with the most spirited air in the +world, his head on one side, one paw up and +one ear cocked inquisitively. His tail wriggled +so fast that Delia thinking it some wonderful +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +new toy, kept trying to catch it and +hold it in her little fingers.</p> + +<p>“He’s a lovely doggie,” Maida said. “I +wish I’d brought Fluff.”</p> + +<p>“And did you ever see such a dear baby,” +Rosie went on, hugging Delia. “Oh, if I +only had a baby brother or sister!”</p> + +<p>“She’s a darling,” Maida agreed heartily. +“Babies are so much more fun than dolls, +don’t you think so, Rosie?”</p> + +<p>“Dolls!” No words can express the contempt +that was in Miss Brine’s accent.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing, Dicky?” Maida +asked, limping over to the table.</p> + +<p>“Making things,” Dicky said cheerfully.</p> + +<p>On the table were piles of mysterious-looking +objects made entirely of paper. +Some were of white paper and others of +brown, but they were all decorated with +trimmings of colored tissue.</p> + +<p>“What are they?” Maida asked. “Aren’t +they lovely? I never saw anything like +them in my life.”</p> + +<p>Dicky blushed all over his face at this +compliment but it was evident that he was +delighted. “Well, those are paper-boxes,” +he said, pointing to the different piles of +things, “and those are steamships. Those +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +are the old-fashioned kind with double +smokestacks. Those are double-boats, +jackets, pants, badges, nose-pinchers, +lamp-lighters, firemen’s caps and soldier +caps.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s why you buy all that colored +paper,” Maida said in a tone of great satisfaction. +“I’ve often wondered.” She examined +Dicky’s work carefully. She could +see that it was done with remarkable precision +and skill. “Oh, what fun to do +things like that. I do wish you’d show me +how to make them, Dicky. I’m such a useless +girl. I can’t make a single thing.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll show you, sure,” Dicky offered generously.</p> + +<p>“What are you making so many for?” +Maida queried.</p> + +<p>“Well, you see it’s this way,” Dicky began +in a business-like air. “Arthur and +Rosie and I are going to have a fair. We’ve +had a fair every spring and every fall for +the last three years. That’s how we get our +money for Christmas and the Fourth of +July. Arthur whittles things out of wood—he’ll +show you what he can do in a minute—he’s +a crackajack. Rosie makes candy. +And I make these paper things.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And do you make much money?” Maida +asked, deeply interested.</p> + +<p>“Don’t make any money at all,” Dicky +said. “The children pay us in nails. I +charge them ten nails a-piece for the easy +things and twenty nails for the hardest. +Arthur can get more for his stuff because +it’s harder to do.”</p> + +<p>“But what do you want nails for?” +Maida asked in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>“Why, nails are junk.”</p> + +<p>“And what’s junk?”</p> + +<p>The three children stared at her. “Don’t +you know what <span style="font-style: italic">junk</span> is, Maida?” Rosie +asked in despair.</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Junk’s old iron,” Dicky explained. +“And you sell it to the junkman. Once we +made forty cents out of one of these fairs. +One reason we’re beginning so early this +year, I’ve got something very particular I +want to buy my mother for a Christmas +present. Can you keep a secret, Maida?”</p> + +<p>Maida nodded.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s a fur collar for her neck. +They have them down in a store on Main +street every winter—two dollars and ninetyeight +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +cents. It seems an awful lot but I’ve +got over a dollar saved up. And I guess I +can do it if I work hard.”</p> + +<p>“How much have you made ordinarily?” +Maida asked thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Once we made forty cents a-piece but +that’s the most.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you what you do,” Maida burst +out impetuously after a moment of silence +in which she considered this statement. +“When the time comes for you to hold your +fair, I’ll lend you my shop for a day. I’ll +take all the things out of the window and +I’ll clean all the shelves off and you boys +can put your things there. I’ll clear out +the showcases for Rosie’s candy. Won’t +that be lovely?” She smiled happily.</p> + +<p>“It would be grand business for us,” +Dicky said soberly, “but somehow it doesn’t +seem quite fair to you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, please don’t think of that,” Maida +said. “I’d just love to do it. And you +must teach me how to make things so that I +can help you. You will take the shop, +Dicky?” she pleaded. “And you, Rosie? +And Arthur?” She looked from one to the +other with all her heart in her eyes. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>But nobody spoke for a moment. “It +seems somehow as if we oughtn’t to,” Dicky +said awkwardly at last.</p> + +<p>Maida’s lip trembled. At first she could +not understand. Here she was aching to do +a kindness to these three friends of hers. +And they, for some unknown reason, would +not permit it. It was not that they disliked +her, she knew. What was it? She tried to +put herself in their place. Suddenly it +came to her what the difficulty was. They +did not want to be so much in her debt. +How could she prevent that? She must let +them do something for her that would lessen +that debt. But what? She thought very +hard. In a flash it came to her—a plan by +which she could make it all right.</p> + +<p>“You see,” she began eagerly, “I wanted +to ask you three to help me in something, +but I can’t do it unless you let me help you. +Listen—the next holiday is Halloween. I +want to decorate my shop with a lot of real +jack-o’-lanterns cut from pumpkins. It +will be hard work and a lot of it and I was +hoping that perhaps you’d help me with +this.”</p> + +<p>The three faces lighted up. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Of course we will,” Dicky said heartily.</p> + +<p>“Gee, I bet Dicky and I could make some +great lanterns,” Arthur said reflectively.</p> + +<p>“And I’ll help you fix up the store,” +Rosie said with enthusiasm. “I just love to +make things look pretty.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a bargain then,” Maida said. “And +now you must teach me how to help you +this very afternoon, Dicky.”</p> + +<p>They fell to work with a vim. At least +three of them did. Rosie continued to +frisk with Delia and Tag on the floor. +Dicky started Maida on the caps first. He +said that those were the easiest. And, indeed +she had very little trouble with anything +until she came to the boxes. She had +to do her first box over and over again +before it would come right. But Dicky was +very patient with her. He kept telling her +that she did better than most beginners or +she would have given it up. When she +made her first good box, her face beamed +with satisfaction.</p> + +<p>“Do you mind if I take it home, Dicky?” +she asked. “I’d like to show it to my father +when he comes. It’s the first thing +I ever made in my life.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Of course,” Dicky said.</p> + +<p>“Don’t the other children ever try to copy +your things?” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“They try to,” Arthur answered, “but +they never do so well as Dicky.”</p> + +<p>“You ought to see their nose-pinchers,” +Rosie laughed. “They can’t stand up +straight. And their boxes and steamships +are the wobbliest things.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to get all kinds of stuff for +things we make for the fair,” Maida said +reflectively. “Gold and silver paper and +colored stars and pretty fancy pictures +for trimmings. You see if you’re going to +charge real money you must make them +more beautiful than those for which you +only charged nails.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” Dicky said. “By George, +that will be great! You go ahead and buy +whatever you think is right, Maida, and I’ll +pay you for it from what we take in at the +fair.”</p> + +<p>“That’s settled. What do you whittle, +Arthur?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, all kinds of things—things I made +up myself and things I learned how to do +in sloyd in school. I make bread-boards +and rolling pins and shinny sticks and cats +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +and little baskets out of cherry-stones.”</p> + +<p>“Jiminy crickets, he’s forgetting the +boats,” Dicky burst in enthusiastically. +“He makes the dandiest boats you ever saw +in your life.”</p> + +<p>Maida looked at Arthur in awe. “I +never heard anything like it! Can you +make anything for girls?”</p> + +<p>“Made me a set of the darlingest dolls’ +furniture you ever saw in your life,” Rosie +put in from the floor.</p> + +<p>“Say, did you get into any trouble last +night?” Arthur turned suddenly to Rosie. +“I forgot to ask you.”</p> + +<p>“Arthur and Rosie hooked jack yesterday, +in all that rain,” Dicky explained to +Maida. “They knew a place where they +could get a whole lot of old iron and they +were afraid if they waited, it would be +gone.”</p> + +<p>“I should say I did,” Rosie answered Arthur’s +question. “Somebody went and tattled +to my mother. Of course, I was wet +through to the skin and that gave the whole +thing away, anyway. I got the worst scolding +and mother sent me to bed without my +supper. But I climbed out the window and +went over to see Maida. I don’t mind! I +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +hate school and as long as I live I shall +never go except when I want to—never, +never, never! I guess I’m not going to be +shut up studying when I’d rather be out in +the open air. Wouldn’t you hook jack if +you wanted to, Maida?”</p> + +<p>Maida did not reply for an instant. She +hated to have Rosie ask this question, point-blank +for she did not want to answer it. If +she said exactly what she thought there +might be trouble. And it seemed to her +that she would do almost anything rather +than lose Rosie’s friendship. But Maida +had been taught to believe that the truth is +the most precious thing in the world. And +so she told the truth after a while but it +was with a great effort.</p> + +<p>“No, I wouldn’t,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s all right for <span style="font-style: italic">you</span> to say,” +Rosie said firing up. “You don’t have to +go to school. You live the easiest life that +anybody can—just sitting in a chair and +tending shop all day. What do you know +about it, anyway?”</p> + +<p>Maida’s lips quivered. “It is true I +don’t go to school, Rosie,” she said. “But +it isn’t because I don’t want to. I’d give +anything on earth if I could go. I watch +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +that line of children every morning and +afternoon of my life and wish and <span style="font-style: italic">wish</span> +and WISH I was in it. And when the +windows are opened and I hear the singing +and reading, it seems as if I just +couldn’t stand it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” Rosie’s tone was still scornful. +“I don’t believe, even if you did go +to school, that you’d ever do anything bad. +You’d never be anything but a fraid-cat and +teacher’s pet.”</p> + +<p>“I guess I’d be so glad to be there, I’d +do anything the teacher asked,” Maida said +dejectedly. “I do a lot of things that bother +Granny but I guess I never have been a +very naughty girl. You can’t be very +naughty with your leg all crooked under +you.” Maida’s voice had grown bitter. +The children looked at her in amazement. +“But what’s the use of talking to you two,” +she went on. “You could never understand. +I guess Dicky knows what I mean, +though.”</p> + +<p>To their great surprise, Maida put her +head down on the table and cried.</p> + +<p>For a moment the room was perfectly silent. +The fire snapped and Dicky went +over to look at it. He stood with his back +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +turned to the other children but a suspicious +snuffle came from his direction. Arthur +Duncan walked to the window and stood +looking out. Rosie sat still, her eyes downcast, +her little white teeth biting her red +lips. Then suddenly she jumped to her +feet, ran like a whirlwind to Maida’s side. +She put her arms about the bowed figure.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do excuse me, Maida,” she begged. +“I know I’m the worst girl in the world. +Everybody says so and I guess it’s true. +But I do love you and I wouldn’t have hurt +your feelings for anything. I don’t believe +you’d be a fraid-cat or teacher’s pet—I +truly don’t. Please excuse me.”</p> + +<p>Maida wiped her tears away. “Of course +I’ll excuse you! But just the same, Rosie, +I hope you won’t hook jack any more for +someday you’ll be sorry.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to make some candy now,” +Rosie said, adroitly changing the subject. +“I brought some molasses and butter and +everything I need.” She began to bustle +about the stove. Soon they were all laughing +again.</p> + +<p>Maida had never pulled candy before and +she thought it the most enchanting fun in +the world. It was hard to keep at work, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +though, when it was such a temptation to +stop and eat it. But she persevered and succeeded +in pulling hers whiter than anybody’s. +She laughed and talked so busily +that, when she started to put on her things, +all traces of tears had disappeared.</p> + +<p>The rain had stopped. The puddle was +of monster size after so long a storm. They +came out just in time to help Molly fish +Tim out of the water and to prevent Betsy +from giving a stray kitten a bath. Following +Rosie and Arthur, Maida waded through +it from one end to the other—it seemed the +most perilous of adventures to her.</p> + +<p>After that meeting, the W.M.N.T.’s +were busier than they had ever been. Every +other afternoon, and always when it was +bad weather, they worked at Maida’s house. +Granny gave Maida a closet all to herself +and as fast as the things were finished they +were put in boxes and stowed away on its +capacious shelves.</p> + +<p>Arthur whittled and carved industriously. +His work went slower than Dicky’s of +course but, still, it went with remarkable +quickness. Maida often stopped her own +work on the paper things to watch Arthur’s. +It was a constant marvel to her that such +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +big, awkward-looking hands could perform +feats of such delicacy. Her own fingers, +small and delicate as they were, bungled +surprisingly at times.</p> + +<p>“And as for the paste,” Maida said in +disgust to Rosie one day, “you’d think that +I fell into the paste-pot every day. I wash +it off my hands and face. I pick it off of +my clothes and sometimes Granny combs it +out of my hair.”</p> + +<p>Often after dinner, the W.M.N.T.’s +would call in a body on Maida. Then would +follow long hours of such fun that Maida +hated to hear the clock strike nine. Always +there would be molasses-candy making by +the capable Rosie at the kitchen stove and +corn-popping by the vigorous Arthur on the +living-room hearth. After the candy had +cooled and the pop corn had been flooded in +melted butter, they would gather about the +hearth to roast apples and chestnuts and to +listen to the fairy-tales that Maida would +read.</p> + +<p>The one thing which she could do and +they could not was to read with the ease +and expression of a grown person. As +many of her books were in French as in +English and it was the wonder of the other +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +W.M.N.T.’s that she could read a French +story, translating as she went. Her books +were a delight to Arthur and Dicky and she +lent them freely. Rosie liked to listen to +stories but she did not care to read.</p> + +<p>Maida was very happy nowadays. Laura +was the only person in the Court who had +caused her any uneasiness. Since the day +that Laura had made herself so disagreeable, +Maida had avoided her steadily. Best +of all, perhaps, Maida’s health had improved +so much that even her limp was +slowly disappearing.</p> + +<p>In the course of time, the children taught +Maida the secret language of the W.M.N.T.’s. +They could hold long conversations +that were unintelligible to anybody else. +When at first they used it in fun before +Maida, she could not understand a word. +After they had explained it to her, she wondered +that she had ever been puzzled.</p> + +<p>“It’s as easy as anything,” Rosy said. +“You take off the first sound of a word and +put it on the end with an <span style="font-style: italic">ay</span> added to it +like MAN—an-may. BOY—oy-bay. +GIRL—irl-gay. When a word is just one +sound like I or O, or when it begins with +a vowel like EEL or US or OUT, you add +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +<span style="font-style: italic">way</span>, like I—I-way. O—O-way. EEL—eel-way. +US—us-way. OUT—out-way.”</p> + +<p>Thus Maida could say to Rosie:</p> + +<p>“Are-way ou-yay oing-gay o-tay ool-schay +o-tay ay-day?” and mean simply, “Are you +going to school to-day?”</p> + +<p>And sometimes to Maida’s grief, Rosie +would reply roguishly:</p> + +<p>“O-nay I-way am-way oing-gay o-tay ook-hay +ack-jay ith-way Arthur-way.”</p> + +<p>Billy Potter was finally invited to join the +W.M.N.T.’s too. He never missed a +meeting if he could possibly help it.</p> + +<p>“Why do you call Maida, <span style="font-style: normal">‘Petronilla’</span>?” +Dicky asked him curiously one day when +Maida had run home for more paper.</p> + +<p>“Petronilla is the name of a little girl in +a fairy-tale that I read when I was a little +boy,” Billy answered.</p> + +<p>“And was she like Maida?” Arthur +asked.</p> + +<p>“Very.”</p> + +<p>“How?” Rosie inquired.</p> + +<p>“Petronilla had a gold star set in her +forehead by a fairy when she was a baby,” +Billy explained. “It was a magic star. +Nobody but fairies could see it but it was +always there. Anybody who came within +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +the light of Petronilla’s star, no matter how +wicked or hopeless or unhappy he was, was +made better and hopefuller and happier.”</p> + +<p>Nobody spoke for an instant.</p> + +<p>Then, “I guess Maida’s got the star all +right,” Dicky said.</p> + +<p>Billy was very interested in the secret +language. At first when they talked this +gibberish before him, he listened mystified. +But to their great surprise he never asked +a question. They went right on talking as +if he were not present. In an interval of +silence, Billy said softly:</p> + +<p>“I-way onder-way if-way I-way ought-bay +a-way uart-quay of-way ice-way-eam-cray, +ese-thay ildren-chay ould-way eat-way +it-way.”</p> + +<p>For a moment nobody could speak. Then +a deafening, “es-yay!” was shouted at the +top of four pairs of lungs.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>PLAY</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>But although the W.M.N.T.’s worked +very hard, you must not suppose that +they left no time to play. Indeed, the +weather was so fine that it was hard to stay +in the house. The beautiful Indian summer +had come and each new day dawned +more perfect than the last. The trees had +become so gorgeous that it was as if the +streets were lined with burning torches. +Whenever a breeze came, they seemed to +flicker and flame and flare. Maida and +Rosie used to shuffle along the gutters gathering +pocketsful of glossy horse-chestnuts +and handfuls of gorgeous leaves.</p> + +<p>Sometimes it seemed to Maida that she did +not need to play, that there was fun enough +in just being out-of-doors. But she did +play a great deal for she was well enough to +join in all the fun now and it seemed to her +that she never could get enough of any one +game. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<p>She would play house and paper-dolls +and ring-games with the little children in +the morning when the older ones were in +school. She would play jackstones with +the bigger girls in the afternoon. She +would play running games with the crowd +of girls and boys, of whom the W.M.N.T.’s +were the leaders, towards night. Then +sometimes she would grumble to Granny because +the days were so short.</p> + +<p>Of all the games, Hoist-the-Sail was her +favorite. She often served as captain on +her side. But whether she called or awaited +the cry, “Liberty poles are bending—hoist +the sail!” a thrill ran through her that made +her blood dance.</p> + +<p>“It’s no use in talking, Granny,” Maida +said joyfully one day. “My leg is getting +stronger. I jumped twenty jumps to-day +without stopping.”</p> + +<p>After that her progress was rapid. She +learned to jump in the rope with Rosie.</p> + +<p>They were a pretty sight. People passing +often gave them more than one glance—Rosie +so vivid and sparkling, in the scarlet +cape and hat all velvety jet-blacks, satiny +olives and brilliant crimsons—Maida slim, +delicate, fairy-like in her long squirrel-coat +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +and cap, her airy ringlets streaming in the +breeze and the eyes that had once been so +wistful now shining with happiness.</p> + +<p>“Do you know what you look like, +Maida?” Rosie said once. Before Maida +could answer, she went on. “You look like +that little mermaid princess in Anderson’s +fairy tales—the one who had to suffer so +to get legs like mortals.”</p> + +<p>“Do I?” Maida laughed. “Now isn’t it +strange I have always thought that you look +like somebody in a fairy tale, too. You’re +like Rose-Red in <span style="font-style: normal">‘Rose-Red and Snow-White.’</span> +I think,” she added, flushing, for +she was a little afraid that it was not polite +to say things like this, “that you are the +beautifulest girl I ever saw.”</p> + +<p>“Why, that’s just what I think of you,” +Rosie said in surprise.</p> + +<p>“I just love black hair,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>“And I just adore golden hair,” Rosie +said. “Now, isn’t that strange?”</p> + +<p>“I guess,” Maida announced after a moment +of thought, “people like what they +haven’t got.”</p> + +<p>After a while, Rosie taught Maida to jump +in the big rope with a half a dozen children +at once. Maida never tired of this. When +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +she heard the rope swishing through the +air, a kind of excitement came over her. +She was proud to think that she had caught +the trick—that something inside would +warn her when to jump—that she could be +sure that this warning would not come an +instant too soon or too late. The consciousness +of a new strength and a new power +made a different child of her. It made her +eyes sparkle like gray diamonds. It made +her cheeks glow like pink peonies.</p> + +<p>By this time she could spin tops with +the best of them—sometimes she had five +tops going at once. This was a sport of +which the W.M.N.T.’s never tired. They +kept it up long into the twilight. Sometimes +Granny would have to ring the dinner-bell +a half a dozen times before Maida +appeared. Maida did not mean to be disobedient. +She simply did not hear the bell. +Granny’s scoldings for this carelessness +were very gentle—Maida’s face was too radiant +with her triumph in this new skill.</p> + +<p>There was something about Primrose +Court—the rows of trees welded into a yellow +arch high over their heads, the sky +showing through in diamond-shaped glints +of blue, the tiny trim houses and their +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +tinier, trimmer yards, the doves pink-toeing +everywhere, their throats bubbling color as +wonderful as the old Venetian glass in the +Beacon Street house, the children running +and shouting, the very smell of the dust +which their pattering feet threw up—something +in the look of all this made Maida’s +spirits leap.</p> + +<p>“I’m happy, <span style="font-style: italic">happy</span>, HAPPY,” Maida +said one day. The next—Rosie came rushing +into the shop with a frightened face.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Maida,” she panted, “a terrible +thing has happened. Laura Lathrop’s got +diphtheria—they say she’s going to die.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie, how dreadful! Who told +you so?”</p> + +<p>“Annie the cook told Aunt Theresa. Dr. +Ames went there three times yesterday. +Annie says Mrs. Lathrop looks something +awful.”</p> + +<p>“The poor, poor woman,” Granny murmured +compassionately.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m so sorry I was cross to Laura,” +Maida said, conscience-stricken. “Oh, I do +hope she won’t die.”</p> + +<p>“It must be dreadful for Laura,” Rosie +continued, “Harold can’t go near her. Nobody +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +goes into the room but her mother and +the nurse.”</p> + +<p>The news cast a deep gloom over the +Court. The little children—Betsy, Molly +and Tim played as usual for they could not +understand the situation. But the noisy +fun of the older children ceased entirely. +They gathered on the corner and talked in +low voices, watching with dread any movement +in the Lathrop house. For a week +or more Primrose Court was the quietest +spot in the neighborhood.</p> + +<p>“They say she’s sinking,” Rosie said that +first night.</p> + +<p>The thought of it colored Maida’s dreams.</p> + +<p>“She’s got through the night all right,” +Rosie reported in the morning, her face +shining with hope. “And they think she’s +a little better.” But late the next afternoon, +Rosie appeared again, her face dark +with dread, “Laura’s worse again.”</p> + +<p>Two or three days passed. Sometimes +Laura was better. Oftener she was worse. +Dr. Ames’s carriage seemed always to be +driving into the Court.</p> + +<p>“Annie says she’s dying,” Rosie retailed +despairingly. “They don’t think she’ll live +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +through the night. Oh, won’t it be dreadful +to wake up to-morrow and find the crape +on the door.”</p> + +<p>The thought of what she might see in the +morning kept Maida awake a long time that +night. When she arose her first glance was +for the Lathrop door. There was no crape.</p> + +<p>“No better,” Rosie dropped in to say on +her way to school “but,” she added hopefully, +“she’s no worse.”</p> + +<p>Maida watched the Lathrop house all day, +dreading to see the undertaker’s wagon +drive up. But it did not come—not that +day, nor the next, nor the next.</p> + +<p>“They think she’s getting better,” Rosie +reported joyfully one day.</p> + +<p>And gradually Laura did get better. +But it was many days before she was well +enough to sit up.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Lathrop says,” Rosie burst in one +day with an excited face, “that if we all +gather in front of the house to-morrow at +one o’clock, she’ll lift Laura up to the window +so that we can see her. She says Laura +is crazy to see us all.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie, I’m so glad!” Maida exclaimed, +delighted. Seizing each other by +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +the waist, the two little girls danced about +the room.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m going to be so good to Laura +when she gets well,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>“So am I,” Rosie declared with equal +fervor. “The last thing I ever said to her +was that she was ‘a hateful little smarty-cat.’”</p> + +<p>Five minutes before one, the next day, all +the children in Primrose Court gathered on +the lawn in front of Laura’s window. +Maida led Molly by one hand and Tim by +the other. Rosie led Betsy and Delia. +Dorothy Clark held Fluff and Mabel held +Tag. Promptly at one o’clock, Mrs. Lathrop +appeared at the window, carrying a little, +thin, white wisp of a girl, all muffled up +in a big shawl.</p> + +<p>The children broke into shouts of joy. +The boys waved their hats and the girls +their handkerchiefs. Tag barked madly +and Rosie declared afterwards that even +Fluff looked excited. But Maida stood still +with the tears streaming down her cheeks—Laura’s +face looked so tiny, her eyes so big +and sad. From her own experience, Maida +could guess how weak Laura felt. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<p>Laura stayed only an instant at the window. +One feeble wave of her claw-like +hand and she was gone.</p> + +<p>“Annie says Mrs. Lathrop is worn to a +shadow trying to find things to entertain +Laura,” Rosie said one night to Maida and +Billy Potter. “She’s read all her books to +her and played all her games with her and +Laura keeps saying she wished she had +something new.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I do wish we could think of something +to do for her,” Maida said wistfully. +“I know just how she feels. If I could +only think of a new toy—but Laura has +everything. And then the trouble with toys +is that after you’ve played with them once, +there’s no more fun in them. I know what +that is. If we all had telephones, we could +talk to her once in a while. But even that +would tire her, I guess.”</p> + +<p>Billy jumped. “I know what we can do +for Laura,” he said. “I’ll have to have +Mrs. Lathrop’s permission though.” He +seized his hat and made for the door. “I’d +better see her about it to-night.” The door +slammed.</p> + +<p>It had all happened so suddenly that the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +children gazed after him with wide-open +mouths and eyes.</p> + +<p>“What do you suppose it’s going to be, +Maida?” Rosie asked finally.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” Maida answered. “I +haven’t the least idea. But if Billy makes +it, you may be sure it will be wonderful.”</p> + +<p>When Billy came back, they asked him a +hundred questions. But they could not get +a word out of him in regard to the new toy.</p> + +<p>He appeared at the shop early the next +morning with a suit-case full of bundles. +Then followed doings that, for a long time, +were a mystery to everybody. A crowd of +excited children followed him about, asking +him dozens of questions and chattering +frantically among themselves.</p> + +<p>First, he opened one of the bundles—out +dropped eight little pulleys. Second, he +went up into Maida’s bedroom and fastened +one of the little pulleys on the sill outside +her window. Third, he did the same thing +in Rosie’s house, in Arthur’s and in Dicky’s. +Fourth, he fastened four of the little pulleys +at the playroom window in the Lathrop +house.</p> + +<p>“Oh, what is he doing?” “I can’t think +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +of anything.” “Oh, I wish he’d tell us,” +came from the children who watched these +manœuvres from the street.</p> + +<p>Fifth, Billy opened another bundle—this +time, out came four coils of a thin rope.</p> + +<p>“I know now,” Arthur called up to him, +“but I won’t tell.”</p> + +<p>Billy grinned.</p> + +<p>And, sure enough, “You watch him,” was +all Arthur would say to the entreaties of +his friends.</p> + +<p>Sixth, Billy ran a double line of rope +between Maida’s and Laura’s window, a +second between Rosie’s and Laura’s, a third +between Arthur’s and Laura’s, a fourth between +Dicky’s and Laura’s.</p> + +<p>Last, Billy opened another bundle. Out +dropped four square tin boxes, each with a +cover and a handle.</p> + +<p>“I’ve guessed it! I’ve guessed it!” +Maida and Rosie screamed together. “It’s +a telephone.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the answer,” Billy confessed. +He went from house to house fastening a +box to the lower rope.</p> + +<p>“Now when you want to say anything to +Laura,” he said on his return, “just write +a note, put it in the box, pull on the upper +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +string and it will sail over to her window. +Suppose you all run home and write something +now. I’ll go over to Laura’s to see +how it works.”</p> + +<p>The children scattered. In a few moments, +four excited little faces appeared at +as many windows. The telephone worked +perfectly. Billy handed Mrs. Lathrop the +notes to deliver to Laura.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Potter,” Mrs. Lathrop said suddenly, +“there’s a matter that I wished to +speak to you about. That little Flynn girl +has lived in the family of Mr. Jerome +Westabrook, hasn’t she?”</p> + +<p>Billy’s eyes “skrinkled up.” “Yes, Mrs. +Lathrop,” he admitted, “she lived in the +Westabrook family for several years.”</p> + +<p>“So I guessed,” Mrs. Lathrop said. +“She’s a very sweet little girl,” she went +on earnestly for she had been touched by +the sight of Maida’s grief the day that she +held Laura to the window. “I hope Mr. +Westabrook’s own little girl is as sweet.”</p> + +<p>“She is, Mrs. Lathrop, I assure you she +is,” Billy said gravely.</p> + +<p>“What is the name of the Westabrook +child?”</p> + +<p>“Elizabeth Fairfax Westabrook.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What is she like?”</p> + +<p>“She’s a good deal like Maida,” Billy +said, his eyes beginning to “skrinkle up” +again. “They could easily pass for sisters.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose that’s why the Westabrooks +have been so good to the little Flynn girl,” +Mrs. Lathrop went on, “for they certainly +are very good to her. It is quite evident +that Maida’s clothes belonged once to the +little Westabrook girl.”</p> + +<p>“You are quite right, Mrs. Lathrop. +They were made for the little Westabrook +girl.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lathrop always declared afterwards +that it was the telephone that really cured +Laura. Certainly, it proved to be the most +exciting of toys to the little invalid. There +was always something waiting for her when +she waked up in the morning and the tin +boxes kept bobbing from window to window +until long after dark. The girls kept her +informed of what was going on in the neighborhood +and the boys sent her jokes and +conundrums and puzzle pictures cut from +the newspapers. Gifts came to her at all +hours. Sometimes it would be a bit of +wood-carving—a grotesque face, perhaps—that +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +Arthur had done. Sometimes it was +a bit of Dicky’s pretty paper-work. Rosie +sent her specimens of her cooking from +candy to hot roasted potatoes, and Maida +sent her daily translations of an exciting +fairy tale which she was reading in French +for the first time.</p> + +<p>Pretty soon Laura was well enough to answer +the notes herself. She wrote each of +her correspondents a long, grateful and affectionate +letter. By and by, she was able +to sit in a chair at the window and watch +the games. The children remembered every +few moments to look and wave to her +and she always waved back. At last came +the morning when a very thin, pale Laura +was wheeled out into the sunshine. After +that she grew well by leaps and bounds. In +a day or two, she could stand in the ring-games +with the little children. By the end +of a week, she seemed quite herself.</p> + +<p>One morning every child in Primrose +Court received a letter in the mail. It was +written on gay-tinted paper with a pretty +picture at the top. It read:</p> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 3.00em; margin-left: 4.00em; margin-top: 2.00em; margin-right: 4.00em"> +“You are cordially invited to a Halloween +party to be given by Miss Laura +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +Lathrop at 29 Primrose Court on Saturday +evening, October 31, at a half after seven.”</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>But as Maida ceased gradually to worry +about Laura, she began to be troubled about +Rosie. For Rosie was not the same child. +Much of the time she was silent, moody and +listless.</p> + +<p>One afternoon she came over to the shop, +bringing the Clark twins with her. For awhile +she and Maida played “house” with +the little girls. Suddenly, Rosie tired of +this game and sent the children home. +Then for a time, she frolicked with Fluff +while Maida read aloud. As suddenly as +she had stopped playing “house” she interrupted +Maida.</p> + +<p>“Don’t read any more,” she commanded, +“I want to talk with you.”</p> + +<p>Maida had felt the whole afternoon that +there was something on Rosie’s mind for +whenever the scowl came between Rosie’s +eyebrows, it meant trouble. Maida closed +her book and sat waiting.</p> + +<p>“Maida,” Rosie asked, “do you remember +your mother?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” Maida answered, “perfectly. +She was very beautiful. I could not forget +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +her any more than a wonderful picture. +She used to come and kiss me every night +before she went to dinner with papa. She +always smelled so sweet—whenever I see +any flowers, I think of her. And she wore +such beautiful dresses and jewels. She +loved sparkly things, I guess—sometimes +she looked like a fairy queen. Once she +had a new lace gown all made of roses of +lace and she had a diamond fastened in +every rose to make it look like dew. When +her hair was down, it came to her knees. +She let me brush it sometimes with her gold +brush.”</p> + +<p>“A gold brush,” Rosie said in an awed +tone.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it was gold with her initials in diamonds +on it. Papa gave her a whole set one +birthday.”</p> + +<p>“How old were you when she died?” +Rosie asked after a pause in which her +scowl grew deeper.</p> + +<p>“Eight.”</p> + +<p>“What did she die of?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” Maida answered. “You +see I was so little that I didn’t understand +about dying. I had never heard of it. +They told me one day that my mother had +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +gone away. I used to ask every day when +she was coming back and they’d say <span style="font-style: normal">‘next +week’</span> and <span style="font-style: normal">‘next week’</span> and <span style="font-style: normal">‘next week’</span> +until one day I got so impatient that I cried. +Then they told me that my mother was living +far away in a beautiful country and she +would never come back. They said that I +must not cry for she still loved me and was +always watching over me. It was a great +comfort to know that and of course I never +cried after that for fear of worrying her. +But at first it was very lonely. Why, +Rosie—” She stopped terrified. “What’s +the matter?”</p> + +<p>Rosie had thrown herself on the couch, +and was crying bitterly. “Oh, Maida,” she +sobbed, “that’s exactly what they say to me +when I ask them—‘next week’ and ‘next +week’ and ‘next week’ until I’m sick of it. +My mother is dead and I know it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie!” Maida protested. “Oh no, +no, no—your mother is not dead. I can’t +believe it. I won’t believe it.”</p> + +<p>“She is,” Rosie persisted. “I know she +is. Oh, what shall I do? Think how +naughty I was! What shall I do?” She +sobbed so convulsively that Maida was +frightened. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Listen, Rosie,” she said. “You don’t +<span style="font-style: italic">know</span> your mother is dead. And I for one +don’t believe that she is.”</p> + +<p>“But they said the same thing to you,” +Rosie protested passionately.</p> + +<p>“I think it was because I was sick,” +Maida said after a moment in which she +thought the matter out. “They were afraid +that I might die if they told me the truth. +But whether your mother is alive or dead, +the only way you can make up for being +naughty is to be as good to your Aunt +Theresa as you can. Oh, Rosie, please go +to school every day.”</p> + +<p>“Do you suppose I could ever hook jack +again?” Rosie asked bitterly. She dried +her eyes. “I guess I’ll go home now,” she +said, “and see if I can help Aunt Theresa +with the supper. And I’m going to get her +to teach me how to cook everything so that +I can help mother—if she ever comes +home.”</p> + +<p>The next day Rosie came into the shop +with the happiest look that she had worn +for a long time.</p> + +<p>“I peeled the potatoes for Aunt Theresa, +last night,” she announced, “and set the +table and wiped the dishes. She was real +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +surprised. She asked me what had got into +me?”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad,” Maida approved.</p> + +<p>“I asked her when mother was coming +back and she said the same thing, ‘Next +week, I think.’” Rosie’s lip quivered.</p> + +<p>“I think she’ll come back, Rosie,” Maida +insisted. “And now let’s not talk any more +about it. Let’s come out to play.”</p> + +<p>Mindful of her own lecture on obedience +to Rosie, Maida skipped home the first +time Granny rang the bell.</p> + +<p>Granny met her at the door. Her eyes +were shining with mischief. “You’ve got +a visitor,” she said. Maida could see that +she was trying to keep her lips prim at the +corners. She wondered who it was. Could +it be—</p> + +<p>She ran into the living-room. Her father +jumped up from the easy-chair to meet +her.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, well, Miss Rosy-Cheeks. No +need to ask how you are!” he said kissing +her.</p> + +<p>“Oh papa, papa, I never was so happy in +all my life. If you could only be here with +me all the time, there wouldn’t be another +thing in the world that I wanted. Don’t +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +you think you could give up Wall Street +and come to live in this Court? You might +open a shop too. Papa, I know you’d make +a good shopkeeper although it isn’t so easy +as a lot of people think. But I’d teach you +all I know—and, then, it’s such fun. You +could have a big shop for I know just how +you like big things—just as I like little +ones.”</p> + +<p>“Buffalo” Westabrook laughed. “I may +have to come to it yet but it doesn’t look +like it this moment. My gracious, Posie, +how you have improved! I never would +know you for the same child. Where did +you get those dimples? I never saw them +in your face before. Your mother had +them, though.”</p> + +<p>The shadow, that the mention of her +mother’s name always brought, darkened +his face. “How you are growing to look +like her!” he said.</p> + +<p>Maida knew that she must not let him +stay sad. “Dimples!” she squealed. “Really, +papa?” She ran over to the mirror, +climbed up on a chair and peeked in. Her +face fell. “I don’t see any,” she said +mournfully.</p> + +<p>“And you’re losing your limp,” Mr. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +Westabrook said. Then catching sight of +her woe-begone face, he laughed. “That’s +because you’ve stopped smiling, you little +goose,” he said. “Grin and you’ll see +them.”</p> + +<p>Obedient, Maida grinned so hard that it +hurt. But the grin softened to a smile of +perfect happiness. For, sure enough, +pricking through the round of her soft, pink +cheeks, were a pair of tiny hollows.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>HALLOWEEN</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>Halloween fell on Saturday that +year. That made Friday a very busy +time for Maida and the other members of +the W.M.N.T. In the afternoon, they +all worked like beavers making jack-o’-lanterns +of the dozen pumpkins that Granny +had ordered. Maida and Rosie and Dicky +hollowed and scraped them. Arthur did +all the hard work—the cutting out of the +features, the putting-in of candle-holders. +These pumpkin lanterns were for decoration. +But Maida had ordered many paper +jack-o’-lanterns for sale. The W.M.N.T.’s +spent the evening rearranging the shop. +Maida went to bed so tired that she could +hardly drag one foot after the other. +Granny had to undress her.</p> + +<p>But when the school-children came flocking +in the next morning, she felt more than +repaid for her work. The shop resounded +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +with the “Oh mys,” and “Oh looks,” of +their surprise and delight.</p> + +<p>Indeed, the room seemed full of twinkling +yellow faces. Lines of them grinned in the +doorway. Rows of them smirked from the +shelves. A frieze, close-set as peas in a pod, +grimaced from the molding. The jolly-looking +pumpkin jacks, that Arthur had +made, were piled in a pyramid in the window. +The biggest of them all—“he +looks just like the man in the moon,” Rosie +said—smiled benignantly at the passers-by +from the top of the heap. Standing about +everywhere among the lanterns were groups +of little paper brownies, their tiny heads +turned upwards as if, in the greatest astonishment, +they were examining these monster +beings.</p> + +<p>The jack-o’-lanterns sold like hot cakes. +As for the brownies, “Granny, you’d think +they were marching off the shelves!” Maida +said. By dark, she was diving breathlessly +into her surplus stock. At the first touch +of twilight, she lighted every lantern left +in the place. Five minutes afterwards, a +crowd of children had gathered to gaze at +the flaming faces in the window. Even the +grown-ups stopped to admire the effect. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<p>More customers came and more—a great +many children whom Maida had never seen +before. By six o’clock, she had sold out +her entire stock. When she sat down to +dinner that night, she was a very happy +little girl.</p> + +<p>“This is the best day I’ve had since I +opened the shop,” she said contentedly. +She was not tired, though. “I feel just +like going to a party to-night. Granny, can +I wear my prettiest Roman sash?”</p> + +<p>“You can wear annyt’ing you want, my +lamb,” Granny said, “for ’tis the good, busy +little choild you’ve been this day.”</p> + +<p>Granny dressed her according to Maida’s +choice, in white. A very, simple, soft little +frock, it was, with many tiny tucks made by +hand and many insertions of a beautiful, +fine lace. Maida chose to wear with it pale +blue silk stockings and slippers, a sash of +blue, striped in pink and white, a string of +pink Venetian beads.</p> + +<p>“Now, Granny, I’ll read until the children +call for me,” she suggested, “so I +won’t rumple my dress.”</p> + +<p>But she was too excited to read. She sat +for a long time at the window, just looking +out. Presently the jack-o’-lanterns, lighted +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +now, began to make blobs of gold in the +furry darkness of the street. She could not +at first make out who held them. It was +strange to watch the fiery, grinning heads, +flying, bodiless, from place to place. But +she identified the lanterns in the court by +the houses from which they emerged. The +three small ones on the end at the left meant +Dicky and Molly and Tim. Two big ones, +mounted on sticks, came from across the +way—Rosie and Arthur, of course. Two, +just alike, trotting side by side betrayed +the Clark twins. A baby-lantern, swinging +close to the ground—that could be nobody +but Betsy.</p> + +<p>The crowd in the Court began to march +towards the shop. For an instant, Maida +watched the spots of brilliant color dancing +in her direction. Then she slipped into her +coat, and seized her own lantern. When +she came outside, the sidewalk seemed +crowded with grotesque faces, all laughing +at her.</p> + +<p>“Just think,” she said, “I have never +been to a Halloween party in my life.”</p> + +<p>“You are the queerest thing, Maida,” +Rosie said in perplexity. “You’ve been to +Europe. You can talk French and Italian. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +And yet, you’ve never been to a Halloween +party. Did you ever hang May-baskets?”</p> + +<p>Maida shook her head.</p> + +<p>“You wait until next May,” Rosie prophesied +gleefully.</p> + +<p>The crowd crossed over into the Court +Two motionless, yellow faces, grinning at +them from the Lathrop steps, showed that +Laura and Harold had come out to meet +them. On the lawn they broke into an impromptu +game of tag which the jack-o’-lanterns +seemed to enjoy as much as the +children: certainly, they whizzed from +place to place as quickly and, certainly, +they smiled as hard.</p> + +<p>The game ended, they left their lanterns +on the piazza and trooped into the house.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to play the first games in the +kitchen,” Laura announced after the coats +and hats had come off and Mrs. Lathrop +had greeted them all.</p> + +<p>Maida wondered what sort of party it was +that was held in the kitchen but she asked +no questions. Almost bursting with curiosity, +she joined the long line marching to +the back of the house.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the kitchen floor stood +a tub of water with apples floating in it. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Bobbing for apples!” the children exclaimed. +“Oh, that’s the greatest fun of all. +Did you ever bob for apples, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Let Maida try it first, then,” Laura said. +“It’s very easy, Maida,” she went on with +twinkling eyes. “All you have to do is to +kneel on the floor, clasp your hands behind +you, and pick out one of the apples with +your teeth. You’ll each be allowed three +minutes.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I can get a half a dozen in three +minutes, I guess,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>Laura tied a big apron around Maida’s +waist and stood, watch in hand. The children +gathered in a circle about the tub. +Maida knelt on the floor, clasped her hands +behind her and reached with a wide-open +mouth for the nearest apple. But at the +first touch of her lips, the apple bobbed +away. She reached for another. That +bobbed away, too. Another and another +and another—they all bobbed clean out of +her reach, no matter how delicately she +touched them. That method was unsuccessful.</p> + +<p>“One minute,” called Laura.</p> + +<p>Maida could hear the children giggling at +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +her. She tried another scheme, making vicious +little dabs at the apples. Her beads +and her hair-ribbon and one of her long +curls dipped into the water. But she only +succeeded in sending the apples spinning +across the tub.</p> + +<p>“Two minutes!” called Laura.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you get those half a dozen,” +the children jeered. “You know you said +it was so easy.”</p> + +<p>Maida giggled too. But inwardly, she +made up her mind that she would get one +of those apples if she dipped her whole +head into the tub. At last a brilliant idea +occurred to her. Using her chin as a guide, +she poked a big rosy apple over against the +side of the tub. Wedging it there +against another big apple, she held it +tight. Then she dropped her head a little, +gave a sudden big bite and arose amidst applause, +with the apple secure between her +teeth.</p> + +<p>After that she had the fun of watching +the other children. The older ones were +adepts. In three minutes, Rosie secured +four, Dicky five and Arthur six. Rosie did +not get a drop of water on her but the boys +emerged with dripping heads. The little +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +children were not very successful but they +were more fun. Molly swallowed so much +water that she choked and had to be patted +on the back. Betsy after a few snaps of +her little, rosebud mouth, seized one of the +apples with her hand, sat down on the floor +and calmly ate it. But the climax was +reached when Tim Doyle suddenly lurched +forward and fell headlong into the tub.</p> + +<p>“I knew he’d fall in,” Molly said in a +matter-of-fact voice. “He always falls into +everything. I brought a dry set of clothes +for him. Come, Tim!”</p> + +<p>At this announcement, everybody shrieked. +Molly disappeared with Tim in the direction +of Laura’s bedroom. When she reappeared, +sure enough, Tim had a dry suit +on.</p> + +<p>Next Laura ordered them to sit about +the kitchen-table. She gave each child an +apple and a knife and directed him to pare +the apple without breaking the peel. If +you think that is an easy thing to do, try it. +It seemed to Maida that she never would accomplish +it. She spoiled three apples before +she succeeded.</p> + +<p>“Now take your apple-paring and form +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +in line across the kitchen-floor,” Laura commanded.</p> + +<p>The flock scampered to obey her.</p> + +<p>“Now when I say ‘Three!’” she continued, +“throw the parings back over your +shoulder to the floor. If the paring makes +a letter, it will be the initial of your future +husband or wife. One! <span style="font-style: italic">Two</span>! THREE!”</p> + +<p>A dozen apple-parings flew to the floor. +Everybody raced across the room to examine +the results.</p> + +<p>“Mine is B,” Dicky said.</p> + +<p>“And mine’s an O,” Rosie declared, “as +plain as anything. What’s yours, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“It’s an X,” Maida answered in great +perplexity. “I don’t believe that there are +any names beginning with X except Xenophon +and Xerxes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, mine’s as bad,” Laura laughed, +“it’s a Z. I guess I’ll be Mrs. Zero.”</p> + +<p>“That’s nothing,” Arthur laughed, +“mine’s an &—I can’t marry anybody +named ——‘and.’”</p> + +<p>“Well, if that isn’t successful,” Laura +said, “there’s another way of finding out +who your husband or wife’s going to be. +You must walk down the cellar-stairs backwards +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +with a candle in one hand and a mirror +in the other. You must look in the mirror +all the time and, when you get to the +foot of the stairs, you will see, reflected in +it, the face of your husband or wife.”</p> + +<p>This did not interest the little children +but the big ones were wild to try it.</p> + +<p>“Gracious, doesn’t it sound scary?” +Rosie said, her great eyes snapping. “I love +a game that’s kind of spooky, don’t you, +Maida?”</p> + +<p>Maida did not answer. She was watching +Harold who was sneaking out of the +room very quietly from a door at the side.</p> + +<p>“All right, then, Rosie,” Laura caught +her up, “you can go first.”</p> + +<p>The children all crowded over to the door +leading to the cellar. The stairs were as +dark as pitch. Rosie took the mirror and +the candle that Laura handed her and +slipped through the opening. The little audience +listened breathless.</p> + +<p>They heard Rosie stumble awkwardly +down the stairs, heard her pause at the +foot. Next came a moment of silence, of +waiting as tense above as below. Then +came a burst of Rosie’s jolly laughter. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +She came running up to them, her cheeks +like roses, her eyes like stars.</p> + +<p>They crowded around her. “What did +you see?” “Tell us about it?” they clamored.</p> + +<p>Rosie shook her head. “No, no, no,” she +maintained, “I’m not going to tell you what +I saw until you’ve been down yourself.”</p> + +<p>It was Arthur’s turn next. They listened +again. The same thing happened—awkward +stumbling down the stairs, a +pause, then a roar of laughter.</p> + +<p>“Oh what did you see?” they implored +when he reappeared.</p> + +<p>“Try it yourself!” he advised. “I’m not +going to tell.”</p> + +<p>Dicky went next. Again they all listened +and to the same mysterious doings. +Dicky came back smiling but, like the +others, he refused to describe his experiences.</p> + +<p>Now it was Maida’s turn. She took the +candle and the mirror from Dicky and +plunged into the shivery darkness of the +stairs. It was doubly difficult for her to go +down backwards because of her lameness. +But she finally arrived at the bottom and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +stood there expectantly. It seemed a long +time before anything happened. Suddenly, +she felt something stir back of her. A +lighted jack-o’-lantern came from between +the folds of a curtain which hung from the +ceiling. It grinned over her shoulder at +her face in the mirror.</p> + +<p>Maida burst into a shriek of laughter and +scrambled upstairs. “I’m going to marry +a jack-o’-lantern,” she said. “My name’s +going to be Mrs. Jack Pumpkin.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to marry Laura’s sailor-doll,” +Rosie confessed. “My name is Mrs. Yankee +Doodle.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to marry Laura’s big doll, +Queenie,” Arthur admitted.</p> + +<p>“And I’m going to marry Harold’s Teddy-bear,” +Dicky said.</p> + +<p>After that they blew soap-bubbles and +roasted apples and chestnuts, popped corn +and pulled candy at the great fireplace in +the playroom. And at Maida’s request, +just before they left, Laura danced for +them.</p> + +<p>“Will you help me to get on my costume, +Maida?” Laura asked.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” Maida said, wondering.</p> + +<p>“I asked you to come down here, Maida,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +Laura said when the two little girls were +alone, “because I wanted to tell you that I +am sorry for the way I treated you just before +I got diphtheria. I told my mother +about it and she said I did those things because +I was coming down sick. She said +that people are always fretty and cross +when they’re not well. But I don’t think it +was all that. I guess I did it on purpose +just to be disagreeable. But I hope you +will excuse me.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I will, Laura,” Maida said +heartily. “And I hope you will forgive me +for going so long without speaking to you. +But you see I heard,” she stopped and hesitated, +“things,” she ended lamely.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know what you heard. I said +those things about you to the W.M.N.T.’s +so that they’d get back to you. I wanted +to hurt your feelings.” Laura in her turn +stopped and hesitated for an instant. “I +was jealous,” she finally confessed in a +burst. “But I want you to understand +this, Maida. I didn’t believe those horrid +things myself. I always have a feeling inside +when people are telling lies and I +didn’t have that feeling when you were +talking to me. I knew you were telling the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +truth. And all the time while I was getting +well, I felt so dreadfully about it that I +knew I never would be happy again unless +I told you so.”</p> + +<p>“I did feel bad when I heard those +things,” Maida said, “but of course I forgot +about them when Rosie told me you +were ill. Let’s forget all about it again.”</p> + +<p>But Maida told the W.M.N.T.’s something +of her talk with Laura and the result +was an invitation to Laura to join the +club. It was accepted gratefully.</p> + +<p>The next month went by on wings. It +was a busy month although in a way, it +was an uneventful one. The weather kept +clear and fine. Little rain fell but, on the +other hand, to the great disappointment of +the little people of Primrose Court, there +was no snow. Maida saw nothing of her +father for business troubles kept him in +New York. He wrote constantly to her +and she wrote as faithfully to him. Letters +could not quite fill the gap that his absence +made. Perhaps Billy suspected +Maida’s secret loneliness for he came +oftener and oftener to see her.</p> + +<p>One night the W.M.N.T.’s begged so +hard for a story that he finally began one +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +called “The Crystal Ball.” A wonderful +thing about it was that it was half-game +and half-story. Most wonderful of all, it +went on from night to night and never +showed any signs of coming to an end. +But in order to play this game-story, there +were two or three conditions to which you +absolutely must submit. For instance, it +must always be played in the dark. And +first, everybody must shut his eyes tight. +Billy would say in a deep voice, “Abracadabra!” +and, presto, there they all were, +Maida, Rosie, Laura, Billy, Arthur and +Dicky inside the crystal ball. What people +lived there and what things happened to +them can not be told here. But after an +hour or more, Billy’s deepest voice would +boom, “Abracadabra!” again and, presto, +there they all were again, back in the cheerful +living-room.</p> + +<p>Maida hoped against hope that her father +would come to spend Thanksgiving +with her but that, he wrote finally, was impossible. +Billy came, however, and they +three enjoyed one of Granny’s delicious +turkey dinners.</p> + +<p>“I hoped that I would have found your +daughter Annie by this time, Granny,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +Billy said. “I ask every Irishman I meet +if he came from Aldigarey, County Sligo +or if he knows anybody who did, or if he’s +ever met a pretty Irish girl by the name of +Annie Flynn. But I’ll find her yet—you’ll +see.”</p> + +<p>“I hope so, Misther Billy,” Granny said +respectfully. But Maida thought her voice +sounded as if she had no great hope.</p> + +<p>Dicky still continued to come for his +reading-lessons, although Maida could see +that, in a month or two, he would not need +a teacher. The quiet, studious, pale little +boy had become a great favorite with +Granny Flynn.</p> + +<p>“Sure an’ Oi must be after getting over +to see the poor lad’s mother some noight,” +she said. “’Tis a noice woman she must be +wid such a pretty-behaved little lad.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, she is, Granny,” Maida said earnestly. +“I’ve been there once or twice when +Mrs. Dore came home early. And she’s +just the nicest lady and so fond of Dicky +and the baby.”</p> + +<p>But Granny was old and very easily tired +and, so, though her intentions were of the +best, she did not make this call.</p> + +<p>One afternoon, after Thanksgiving, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +Maida ran over to Dicky’s to borrow some +pink tissue paper. She knocked gently. +Nobody answered. But from the room +came the sound of sobbing. Maida listened. +It was Dicky’s voice. At first she +did not know what to do. Finally, she +opened the door and peeped in. Dicky was +sitting all crumpled up, his head resting on +the table.</p> + +<p>“Oh, what is the matter, Dicky?” Maida +asked.</p> + +<p>Dicky jumped. He raised his head and +looked at her. His face was swollen with +crying, his eyes red and heavy. For a moment +he could not speak. Maida could see +that he was ashamed of being caught in +tears, that he was trying hard to control +himself.</p> + +<p>“It’s something I heard,” he replied at +last.</p> + +<p>“What?” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“Last night after I got to bed, Doc +O’Brien came here to get his bill paid. +Mother thought I was asleep and asked him +a whole lot of questions. He told her that +I wasn’t any better and I never would be +any better. He said that I’d be a cripple +for the rest of my life.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>In spite of all his efforts, Dicky’s voice +broke into a sob.</p> + +<p>“Oh Dicky, Dicky,” Maida said. Better +than anybody else in the world, Maida felt +that she could understand, could sympathize. +“Oh, Dicky, how sorry I am!”</p> + +<p>“I can’t bear it,” Dicky said.</p> + +<p>He put his head down on the table and +began to sob. “I can’t bear it,” he said. +“Why, I thought when I grew up to be a +man, I was going to take care of mother +and Delia. Instead of that, they’ll be taking +care of me. What can a cripple do? +Once I read about a crippled newsboy. Do +you suppose I could sell papers?” he asked +with a gleam of hope.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure you could,” Maida said heartily, +“and a great many other things. But +it may not be as bad as you think, Dicky. +Dr. O’Brien may be mistaken. You know +something was wrong with me when I was +born and I did not begin to walk until a +year ago. My father has taken me to so +many doctors that I’m sure he could not +remember half their names. But they all +said the same thing—that I never would +walk like other children. Then a very +great physician—Dr. Greinschmidt—came +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +from away across the sea, from Germany. +He said he could cure me and he did. I +had to be operated on and—oh—I suffered +dreadfully. But you see that I’m all well +now. I’m even losing my limp. Now, I +believe that Doctor Greinschmidt can cure +you. The next time my father comes home +I’m going to ask him.”</p> + +<p>Dicky had stopped crying. He was +drinking down everything that she said. +“Is he still here—that doctor?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“No,” Maida admitted sorrowfully. +“But there must be doctors as good as he +somewhere. But don’t you worry about it +at all, Dicky. You wait until my father +sees you—he always gets everything made +right.”</p> + +<p>“When’s your father coming home?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t quite know—but I look for him +any time now.”</p> + +<p>Dicky started to set the table. “I guess +I wouldn’t have cried,” he said after a +while, “if I could have cried last night when +I first heard it. But of course I couldn’t +let mother or Doc O’Brien know that I’d +heard them—it would make them feel bad. +I don’t want my mother ever to know that +I know it.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page242">[Pg 242]</a></span></p> + +<p>After that, Maida redoubled her efforts +to be nice to Dicky. She cudgeled her +brains too for new decorative schemes for +his paper-work. She asked Billy Potter to +bring a whole bag of her books from the +Beacon Street house and she lent them to +Dicky, a half dozen at a time.</p> + +<p>Indeed, they were a very busy quartette—the +W.M.N.T.’s. Rosie went to school +every day. She climbed out of her window +no more at night. She seemed to prefer +helping Maida in the shop to anything else. +Arthur Duncan was equally industrious. +With no Rosie to play hookey with, he, too, +was driven to attending school regularly. +His leisure hours were devoted to his +whittling and wood-carving. He was always +doing kind things for Maida and +Granny, bringing up the coal, emptying the +ashes, running errands.</p> + +<p>And so November passed into December.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>THE FIRST SNOW</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>“Look out the window, my lamb,” +Granny called one morning early in +December. Maida opened her eyes, jumped +obediently out of bed and pattered across +the room. There, she gave a scream of delight, +jumping up and down and clapping +her hands.</p> + +<p>“Snow! Oh goody, goody, goody! Snow +at last!”</p> + +<p>It looked as if the whole world had been +wrapped in a blanket of the whitest, fleeciest, +shiningest wool. Sidewalks, streets, +crossings were all leveled to one smoothness. +The fences were so muffled that they +had swelled to twice their size. The houses +wore trim, pointy caps on their gables. +The high bushes in the yard hung to the +very ground. The low ones had become +mounds. The trees looked as if they had +been packed in cotton-wool and put away +for the winter. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And the lovely part of it is, it’s still +snowing,” Maida exclaimed blissfully.</p> + +<p>“Glory be, it’ull be a blizzard before +we’re t’rough wid ut,” Granny said and +shivered.</p> + +<p>Maida dressed in the greatest excitement. +Few children came in to make purchases +that morning and the lines pouring into +the schoolhouse were very shivery and +much shorter than usual. At a quarter to +twelve, the one-session bell rang. When +the children came out of school at one, the +snow was whirling down thicker and faster +than in the morning. A high wind came +up and piled it in the most unexpected +places. Trade stopped entirely in the shop. +No mother would let her children brave so +terrific a storm.</p> + +<p>It snowed that night and all the next +morning. The second day fewer children +went to school than on the first. But at +two o’clock when the sun burst through the +gray sky, the children swarmed the streets. +Shovels and brooms began to appear, snow-balls +to fly, sleigh-bells to tinkle.</p> + +<p>Rosie came dashing into the shop in the +midst of this burst of excitement. “I’ve +shoveled our sidewalk,” she announced triumphantly. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +“Is anything wrong with me? +Everybody’s staring at me.”</p> + +<p>Maida stared too. Rosie’s scarlet cape +was dotted with snow, her scarlet hat was +white with it. Great flakes had caught in +her long black hair, had starred her soft +brows—they hung from her very eyelashes. +Her cheeks and lips were the color of coral +and her eyes like great velvety moons.</p> + +<p>“You look in the glass and see what +they’re staring at,” Maida said slyly. +Rosie went to the mirror.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see anything the matter.”</p> + +<p>“It’s because you look so pretty, goose!” +Maida exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Rosie always blushed and looked ashamed +if anybody alluded to her prettiness. Now +she leaped to Maida’s side and pretended +to beat her.</p> + +<p>“Stop that!” a voice called. Startled, +the little girls looked up. Billy stood in the +doorway. “I’ve come over to make a snow-house,” +he explained.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy, what things you do think of!” +Maida exclaimed. “Wait till I get Arthur +and Dicky!”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t get many more in here, could +we?” Billy commented when the five had +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +assembled in the “child’s size” yard. “I +don’t know that we could stow away another +shovel. Now, first of all, you’re to +pile all the snow in the yard into that corner.”</p> + +<p>Everybody went to work. But Billy and +Arthur moved so quickly with their big +shovels that Maida and Rosie and Dicky did +nothing but hop about them. Almost before +they realized it, the snow-pile reached +to the top of the fence.</p> + +<p>“Pack it down hard,” Billy commanded, +“as hard as you can make it.”</p> + +<p>Everybody scrambled to obey. For a +few moments the sound of shovels beating +on the snow drowned their talk.</p> + +<p>“That will do for that,” Billy commanded +suddenly. His little force stopped, +breathless and red-cheeked. “Now I’m going +to dig out the room. I guess I’ll have +to do this. If you’re not careful enough, +the roof will cave in. Then it’s all got to +be done again.”</p> + +<p>Working very slowly, he began to hollow +out the structure. After the hole had +grown big enough, he crawled into it. But +in spite of his own warning, he must have +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +been too energetic in his movements. Suddenly +the roof came down on his head.</p> + +<p>Billy was on his feet in an instant, shaking +the snow off as a dog shakes off water.</p> + +<p>“Why, Billy, you look like a snow-man,” +Maida laughed.</p> + +<p>“I feel like one,” Billy said, wiping the +snow from his eyes and from under his collar. +“But don’t be discouraged, my hearties, +up with it again. I’ll be more careful +the next time.”</p> + +<p>They went at it again with increased interest, +heaping up a mound of snow bigger +than before, beating it until it was as hard +as a brick, hollowing out inside a chamber +big enough for three of them to occupy at +once. But Billy gave them no time to enjoy +their new dwelling.</p> + +<p>“Run into the house,” was his next order, +“and bring out all the water you can +carry.”</p> + +<p>There was a wild scramble to see which +would get to the sink first but in a few moments, +an orderly file emerged from the +house, Arthur with a bucket, Dicky with a +basin, Rosie with the dish-pan, Maida with +a dipper. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Now I’m going to pour water over the +house,” Billy explained. “You see if it +freezes now it will last longer.” Very +carefully, he sprayed it on the sides and +roof, dashing it upwards on the inside +walls:</p> + +<p>“We might as well make it look pretty +while we’re about it,” Billy continued. +“You children get to work and make a lot +of snow-balls the size of an orange and just +as round as you can turn them out.”</p> + +<p>This was easy work. Before Billy could +say, “Jack Robinson!” four pairs of eager +hands had accumulated snow-balls enough +for a sham battle. In the meantime, Billy +had decorated the doorway with two tall, +round pillars. He added a pointed roof to +the house and trimmed it with snow-balls, +all along the edge.</p> + +<p>“Now I guess we’d better have a snow-man +to live in this mansion while we’re +about it,” Billy suggested briskly. “Each +of you roll up an arm or a leg while I make +the body.”</p> + +<p>Billy placed the legs in the corner opposite +the snow-house. He lifted on to +them the big round body which he himself +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +had rolled. Putting the arms on was not +so easy. He worked for a long time before +he found the angle at which they would +stick.</p> + +<p>Everybody took a hand at the head. +Maida contributed some dulse for the hair, +slitting it into ribbons, which she stuck on +with glue. Rosie found a broken clothes-pin +for the nose. The round, smooth coals +that Dicky discovered in the coal-hod made +a pair of expressive black eyes. Arthur cut +two sets of teeth from orange peel and inserted +them in the gash that was the mouth. +When the head was set on the shoulders, +Billy disappeared into the house for a moment. +He came back carrying a suit-case. +“Shut your eyes, every manjack of you,” +he ordered. “You’re not to see what I do +until it’s done. If I catch one of you peeking, +I’ll confine you in the snow-house for +five minutes.”</p> + +<p>The W.M.N.T.’s shut their eyes tight +and held down the lids with resolute fingers. +But they kept their ears wide open. The +mysterious work on which Billy was engaged +was accompanied by the most tantalizing +noises. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, Billy, can’t I please look,” Maida +begged, jiggling up and down. “I can’t +stand it much longer.”</p> + +<p>“In a minute,” Billy said encouragingly. +The mysterious noises kept up. “Now,” +Billy said suddenly.</p> + +<p>Four pairs of eyes leaped open. Four +pairs of lips shrieked their delight. Indeed, +Maida and Rosie laughed so hard that +they finally rolled in the snow.</p> + +<p>Billy had put an old coat on the snow-man’s +body. He had put a tall hat—Arthur +called it a “stove-pipe”—on the snow-man’s +head. He had put an old black pipe +between the snow-man’s grinning, orange-colored +teeth. Gloves hung limply from +the snow-man’s arm-stumps and to one of +them a cane was fastened. Billy had managed +to give the snow-man’s head a cock to +one side. Altogether he looked so spruce +and jovial that it was impossible not to like +him.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Chumpleigh, ladies and gentlemen,” +Billy said. “Some members of the W.M.N.T., +Mr. Chumpleigh.”</p> + +<p>And Mr. Chumpleigh, he was until—until—</p> + +<p>Billy stayed that night to dinner. They +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +had just finished eating when an excited +ring of the bell announced Rosie.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Granny,” she said, “the boys have +made a most wonderful coast down Halliwell +Street and Aunt Theresa says I can go +coasting until nine o’clock if you’ll let +Maida go too. I thought maybe you would, +especially if Billy comes along.”</p> + +<p>“If Misther Billy goes, ’twill be all +roight.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Granny,” Maida said, “you dear, +darling, old fairy-dame!” She was so excited +that she wriggled like a little eel all +the time Granny was bundling her into her +clothes. And when she reached the street, +it seemed as if she must explode.</p> + +<p>A big moon, floating like a silver balloon +in the sky, made the night like day. The +neighborhood sizzled with excitement for +the street and sidewalks were covered with +children dragging sleds.</p> + +<p>“It’s like the <span style="font-style: normal">‘Pied Piper’</span>, Rosie,” +Maida said joyfully, “children everywhere +and all going in the same direction.”</p> + +<p>They followed the procession up Warrington +Street to where Halliwell Street +sloped down the hill.</p> + +<p>Billy let out a long whistle of astonishment. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +“Great Scott, what a coast!” he +said.</p> + +<p>In the middle of the street was a ribbon +of ice three feet wide and as smooth as +glass. At the foot of the hill, a piled-up +mound of snow served as a buffer.</p> + +<p>“The boys have been working on the slide +all day,” Rosie said. “Did you ever see +such a nice one, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“I never saw any kind of a one,” Maida +confessed. “How did they make it so +smooth?”</p> + +<p>“Pouring water on it.”</p> + +<p>“Have you never coasted before, +Maida?” Billy asked.</p> + +<p>“Never.”</p> + +<p>“Well, here’s your chance then,” said a +cheerful voice back of them. They all +turned. There stood Arthur Duncan with +what Maida soon learned was a “double-runner.”</p> + +<p>Billy examined it carefully. “Did you +make it, Arthur?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Pretty good piece of work,” Billy commented. +“Want to try it, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“I’m crazy to!”</p> + +<p>“All right. Pile on!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>Arthur took his place in front. Rosie +sat next, then Dicky, then Maida, then +Billy.</p> + +<p>“Hold on to Dicky,” Billy instructed +Maida, “and I’ll hold on to you.”</p> + +<p>Tingling with excitement, Maida did as +she was told. But it seemed as if they +would never start. But at last, she heard +Billy’s voice, “On your marks. Get set! +Go!” The double-runner stirred.</p> + +<p>It moved slowly for a moment across the +level top of the street. Then came the first +slope of the hill—they plunged forward. +She heard Rosie’s hysterical shriek, Dicky’s +vociferous cheers and Billy’s blood-curdling +yells, but she herself was as silent as a little +image. They struck the second slope of the +hill—then she screamed, too. The houses +on either side shot past like pictures in the +kinetoscope. She felt a rush of wind that +must surely blow her ears off. They +reached the third slope of the hill—and now +they had left the earth and were sailing +through the air. The next instant the +double-runner had come to rest on the bank +of snow and Rosie and she were hugging +each other and saying, “Wasn’t it +GREAT?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>They climbed to the top of the hill again. +All the way back, Maida watched the sleds +whizzing down the coast, boys alone on +sleds, girls alone on sleds, pairs of girls, +pairs of boys, one seated in front, the other +steering with a foot that trailed behind on +the ice, timid little girls who did not dare +the ice but contented themselves with sliding +on the snow at either side, daring little boys +who went down lying flat on their sleds.</p> + +<p>At the top they were besieged with entreaties +to go on the double-runner and, as +there was room enough for one more, they +took a little boy or girl with them each time. +Rosie lent her sled to those who had none. +At first there were plenty of these, standing +at the top of the coast, wistfully watching +the fun of more fortunate children. But +after a while it was discovered that the +ice was so smooth that almost anything +could be used for coasting. The sledless +ones rushed home and reappeared with all +kinds of things. One little lad went down +on a shovel and his intrepid little sister followed +on a broom. Boxes and shingles and +even dish-pans began to appear. Most +reckless of all, one big fellow slid down on +his two feet, landing in a heap in the snow. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + +<p>Maida enjoyed every moment of it—even +the long walks back up the hill. Once the +double-runner struck into a riderless sled +that had drifted on to the course, and was +overturned immediately. Nobody was hurt. +Rosie, Dicky and Arthur were cast safely +to one side in the soft snow. But Maida +and Billy were thrown, whirling, on to the +ice. Billy kept his grip on Maida and they +shot down the hill, turning round and +round and round. At first Maida was a little +frightened. But when she saw that they +were perfectly safe, that Billy was making +her spin about in that ridiculous fashion, +she laughed so hard that she was weak when +they reached the bottom.</p> + +<p>“Oh, do let’s do that again!” she said +when she caught her breath.</p> + +<p>Never was such a week as followed. The +cold weather kept up. Continued storms +added to the snow. For the first time in +years came four one-session days in a single +week. It seemed as if Jack Frost were on +the side of the children. He would send +violent flurries of snow just before the one-session +bell rang but as soon as the children +were safely on the street, the sun would +come out bright as summer. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>Every morning when Maida woke up, she +would say to herself, “I wonder how Mr. +Chumpleigh is to-day.” Then she would +run over to the window to see.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chumpleigh had become a great favorite +in the neighborhood. He was so tall +that his round, happy face with its eternal +orange-peel grin could look straight over +the fence to the street. The passers-by used +to stop, paralyzed by the vision. But after +studying the phenomenon, they would go +laughing on their way. Occasionally a bad +boy would shy a snow-ball at the smiling +countenance but Mr. Chumpleigh was so +hard-headed that nothing seemed to hurt +him. In the course of time, the “stove-pipe” +became very battered and, as the result +of continued storms, one eye sank down +to the middle of his cheek. But in spite of +these injuries, he continued to maintain his +genial grin.</p> + +<p>“Let’s go out and fix Mr. Chumpleigh,” +Rosie would say every day. The two little +girls would brush the snow off his hat +and coat, adjust his nose and teeth, would +straighten him up generally.</p> + +<p>After a while, Maida threw her bird-crumbs +all over Mr. Chumpleigh. Thereafter, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +the saucy little English sparrows ate +from Mr. Chumpleigh’s hat-brim, his pipe-bowl, +even his pockets.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps the snow will last all winter,” +Maida said hopefully one day. “If it does, +Mr. Chumpleigh’s health will be perfect.”</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps, it’s just as well if he +goes,” Rosie said sensibly; “we haven’t +done a bit of work since he came.”</p> + +<p>On Sunday the weather moderated a little. +Mr. Chumpleigh bore a most melancholy +look all the afternoon as if he feared +what was to come. What was worse, he +lost his nose.</p> + +<p>Monday morning, Maida ran to the window +dreading what she might see. But instead +of the thaw she expected, a most beautiful +sight spread out before her. The +weather had turned cold in the night. Everything +that had started to melt had frozen +up again. The sidewalks were liked frosted +cakes. Long icicles made pretty fringes +around the roofs of the houses. The trees +and bushes were glazed by a sheathing of +crystal. The sunlight playing through all +this turned the world into a heap of diamonds.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chumpleigh had perked up under the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +influence of the cold. His manner had +gained in solidity although his gaze was a +little glassy. Hopefully Maida hunted +about until she found his nose.</p> + +<p>She replaced his old set with some new +orange-peel teeth and stuck his pipe between +them. He looked quite himself.</p> + +<p>But, alas, the sun came out and melted +the whole world. The sidewalks trickled +streams. The icicles dripped away in +showers of diamonds. The trees lost their +crystal sheathing.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, Mr. Chumpleigh began +to droop. By night his head was resting +disconsolately on his own shoulder. +When Maida looked out the next morning, +there was nothing in the corner but a mound +of snow. An old coat lay to one side. +Strewn about were a hat, a pair of gloves, +a pipe and a cane.</p> + +<p>Mr. Chumpleigh had passed away in the +night.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>THE FAIR</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em"> +<span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 130%">SAVE YOUR +PENNIES</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 90%">A CHRISTMAS +FAIR</span><br /><span style="font-size: 90%">WILL BE HELD IN THIS +SHOP</span><br /><span style="font-size: 90%">THE SATURDAY +BEFORE</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 120%">CHRISTMAS</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 90%">DELICIOUS +CANDIES MADE BY</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 120%">MISS ROSIE +BRINE</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 90%">PAPER GOODS DESIGNED +AND</span><br /><span style="font-size: 90%">EXECUTED BY</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 120%">MASTER +RICHARD DORE</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 90%">WOOD CARVING DESIGNED +AND</span><br /><span style="font-size: 90%">EXECUTED BY</span></span><br /><span style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 120%">MASTER ARTHUR +DUNCAN</span><br /><span style="font-size: 120%">DON'T MISS IT!</span></span> +</p> +<p></p> +<p>This sign hung in Maida’s window for +a week. Billy made it. The lettering +was red and gold. In one corner, he +painted a picture of a little boy and girl in +their nightgowns peeking up a chimney-place +hung with stockings. In the other +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +corner, the full-moon face of a Santa Claus +popped like a jolly jack-in-the-box from a +chimney-top. A troop of reindeer, dragging +a sleigh full of toys, scurried through +the printing. The whole thing was enclosed +in a wreath of holly.</p> + +<p>The sign attracted a great deal of attention. +Children were always stopping to admire +it and even grown-people paused now +and then. There was such a falling-off of +Maida’s trade that she guessed that the +children were really saving their pennies +for the fair. This delighted her.</p> + +<p>The W.M.N.T.’s wasted no time that +last week in spite of a very enticing snowstorm. +Maida, of course, had nothing to do +on her own account, but she worked with +Dicky, morning and afternoon.</p> + +<p>Rosie could not make candy until the last +two or three days for fear it would get stale. +Then she set to like a little whirlwind.</p> + +<p>“My face is almost tanned from bending +over the stove,” she said to Maida; +“Aunt Theresa says if I cook another batch +of candy, I’ll have a crop of freckles.”</p> + +<p>Arthur seemed to work the hardest of all +because his work was so much more difficult. +It took a great deal of time and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +strength and yet nobody could help him in +it. The sound of his hammering came into +Maida’s room early in the morning. It +came in sometimes late at night when, cuddling +between her blankets, she thought +what a happy girl she was.</p> + +<p>“I niver saw such foine, busy little +folks,” Granny said approvingly again and +again. “It moinds me av me own Annie. +Niver a moment but that lass was working +at some t’ing. Oh, I wonder what she’s +doun’ and finking this Christmas.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you worry,” Maida always said. +“Billy’ll find her for you yet—he said he +would.”</p> + +<p>Maida, herself, was giving, for the first +time in her experience, a good deal of +thought to Christmas time.</p> + +<p>In the first place, she had sent the following +invitation to every child in Primrose +Court:</p> + +<p>“Will you please come to my Christmas +Tree to be given Christmas Night in the +<span style="font-style: normal">‘Little Shop.’</span> Maida.”</p> + +<p>In the second place, she was spying on +all her friends, listening to their talk, watching +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page262">[Pg 262]</a></span> +them closely in work and play to find +just the right thing to give them.</p> + +<p>“Do you know, I never made a Christmas +present in my life,” she said one day to +Rosie.</p> + +<p>“You never made a Christmas present?” +Rosie repeated.</p> + +<p>Maida’s quick perception sensed in Rosie’s +face an unspoken accusation of selfishness.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, Rosie +dear,” Maida hastened to explain. “It was +because I was too sick. You see, I was always +in bed. I was too weak to make anything +and I could not go out and buy presents +as other children did. But people +used to give me the loveliest things.”</p> + +<p>“What did they give you?” Rosie asked +curiously.</p> + +<p>“Oh, all kinds of things. Father’s given +me an automobile and a pair of Shetland +ponies and a family of twenty dolls and my +weight in silver dollars. I can’t remember +half the things I’ve had.”</p> + +<p>“A pair of Shetland ponies, an automobile, +a family of twenty dolls, your weight +in silver dollars,” Rosie repeated after her. +“Why, Maida, you’re dreaming or you’re +out of your head.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Out of my head! Why, Rosie you’re +out of <span style="font-style: italic">your</span> head. Don’t you suppose I +know what I got for Christmas?” Maida’s +eyes began to flash and her lips to tremble.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, Maida, just think of it,” Rosie +said in her most reasonable voice. “Here +you are a little girl just like anybody else +only you’re running a shop. Now just as +if you could afford to have an automobile! +Why, my father knows a man who knows +another man who bought an automobile and +it cost nine hundred dollars. What did +yours cost?”</p> + +<p>“Two thousand dollars.” Maida said +this with a guilty air in spite of her knowledge +of her own truth.</p> + +<p>Rosie smiled roguishly. “Maida, dear,” +she coaxed, “you dreamed it.”</p> + +<p>Maida started to her feet. For a moment +she came near saying something very +saucy indeed. But she remembered in time. +Of course nobody in the neighborhood knew +that she was “Buffalo” Westabrook’s +daughter. It was impossible for her to +prove any of her statements. The flash +died out of her eyes. But another flash +came into her cheeks—the flash of dimples.</p> + +<p>“Well, perhaps I <span style="font-style: italic">did</span> +dream it, Rosie,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +she said archly. “But I don’t think I did,” +she added in a quiet voice.</p> + +<p>Rosie turned the subject tactfully. +“What are you going to give your father?” +she asked.</p> + +<p>“That’s bothering me dreadfully,” Maida +sighed; “I can’t think of anything he +needs.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you buy him the same thing +I’m going to get my papa,” Rosie suggested +eagerly. “That is, I’m going to buy +it if I make enough money at the fair. +Does your father shave himself?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Adolph, his valet, always shaves +him,” Maida answered.</p> + +<p>Rosie’s brow knit over the word +<span style="font-style: italic">valet</span>—but +Maida was always puzzling the neighborhood +with strange expressions. Then +her brow lightened. “My father goes to a +barber, too,” she said. “I’ve heard him +complaining lots of times how expensive it +is. And the other day Arthur told me +about a razor his father uses. He says it’s +just like a lawn-mower or a carpet-sweeper. +You don’t have to have anybody shave you +if you have one of them. You run it right +over your face and it takes all the beard off +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +and doesn’t cut or anything. Now, wouldn’t +you think that would be fun?”</p> + +<p>“I should think it would be just lovely,” +Maida agreed. “That’s just the thing for +papa—for he is so busy. How much does +it cost, Rosie?”</p> + +<p>“About a dollar, Arthur thought. I +never paid so much for a Christmas present +in my life. And I’m not sure yet that I +can get one. But if I do sell two dollars +worth of candy, I can buy something perfectly +beautiful for both father and +mother.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rosie,” Maida asked breathlessly, +“do you mean that your mother’s come +back?”</p> + +<p>Rosie’s face changed. “Don’t you think +I’d tell you that the first thing? No, she +hasn’t come back and they don’t say anything +about her coming back. But if she +ever does come, I guess I’m going to have +her Christmas present all ready for her.”</p> + +<p>Maida patted her hand. “She’s coming +back,” she said; “I know it.”</p> + +<p>Rosie sighed. “You come down Main +Street the night before Christmas. Dicky +and I are going to buy our Christmas presents +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +then and we can show you where to +get the little razor.”</p> + +<p>“I’d love to.” Maida beamed. And indeed, +it seemed the most fascinating prospect +in the world to her. Every night +after she went to bed, she thought it over. +She was really going to buy Christmas presents +without any grown-up person about to +interfere. It was rapture.</p> + +<p>The night before the fair, the children +worked even harder than the night before +Halloween, for there were so many things +to display. It was evident that the stock +would overflow windows and shelves and +show cases.</p> + +<p>“We’ll bring the long kitchen table in +for your things, Arthur,” Maida decided +after a perplexed consideration of the subject. +“Dicky’s and Rosie’s things ought to +go on the shelves and into the show cases +where nobody can handle them.”</p> + +<p>They tugged the table into the shop and +covered it with a beautiful old blue counter-pane.</p> + +<p>“That’s fine!” Arthur approved, unpacking +his handicraft from the bushel-baskets +in which he brought them.</p> + +<p>The others stood round admiring the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +treasures and helping him to arrange them +prettily. A fleet of graceful little boats occupied +one end of the table, piles of bread-boards, +rolling-pins and “cats,” the other. +In the center lay a bowl filled with tiny +baskets, carved from peach-stones. From +the molding hung a fringe of hockey-sticks.</p> + +<p>Having arranged all Arthur’s things, the +quartette filed upstairs to the closet where +Dicky’s paper-work was kept.</p> + +<p>“Gracious, I didn’t realize there were so +many,” Rosie said.</p> + +<p>“Sure, the lad has worked day and +night,” Granny said, patting Dicky’s thin +cheek.</p> + +<p>They filled Arthur’s baskets and trooped +back to the shop. They lined show case and +shelves with the glittering things—boxes, +big and little, gorgeously ornamented with +stars and moons, caps of gold and silver, +flying gay plumes, rainbow boats too beautiful +to sail on anything but fairy seas, miniature +jackets and trousers that only a circus +rider would wear.</p> + +<p>“Dicky, I never did see anything look so +lovely,” Maida said, shaking her hands with +delight. “I really didn’t realize how pretty +they were.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dicky’s big eyes glowed with satisfaction. +“Nor me neither,” he confessed.</p> + +<p>“And now,” Maida said, bubbling over +with suppressed importance, “Rosie’s candies—I’ve +saved that until the last.” She +pulled out one of the drawers under the +show case and lifted it on to the counter. +It was filled with candy-boxes of paper, +prettily decorated with flower patterns on +the outside, with fringes of lace paper on +the inside. “I ordered these boxes for you, +Rosie,” she explained. “I knew your +candy would sell better if it was put up +nicely. I thought the little ones could be +five-cent size, the middle-sized ones ten-cent +size, and the big ones twenty-five cent size.”</p> + +<p>Rosie was dancing up and down with delight. +“They’re just lovely, Maida, and +how sweet you were to think of it. But it +was just like you.”</p> + +<p>“Now we must pack them,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>Four pairs of hands made light work of +this. By nine o’clock all the boxes were +filled and spread out temptingly in the +show case. By a quarter past nine, three +of the W.M.N.T.’s were in bed trying +hard to get to sleep. But Maida stayed up. +The boxes were not her only surprise. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<p>After the others had gone, she and Granny +worked for half an hour in the little shop.</p> + +<p>The Saturday before Christmas dawned +clear and fair. Rosie hallooed for Dicky +and Arthur as she came out of doors at half-past +seven and all three arrived at the shop +together. Their faces took on such a +comic look of surprise that Maida burst out +laughing.</p> + +<p>“But where did it all come from?” Rosie +asked in bewilderment. “Maida, you slyboots, +you must have done all this after we +left.”</p> + +<p>Maida nodded.</p> + +<p>But all Arthur and Dicky said was +“Gee!” and “Jiminy crickets!” But +Maida found these exclamatives quite as expressive +as Rosie’s hugs. And, indeed, she +herself thought the place worthy of any degree +of admiring enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>The shop was so strung with garlands of +Christmas green that it looked like a bower. +Bunches of mistletoe and holly added their +colors to the holiday cheer. Red Christmas +bells hung everywhere.</p> + +<p>“My goodness, I never passed such a day +in my life,” Maida said that night at dinner. +She was telling it all to Granny, who +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +had been away on mysterious business of +her own. “It’s been like a beehive here +ever since eight o’clock this morning. If +we’d each of us had an extra pair of hands +at our knees and another at our waists, perhaps +we could have begun to wait on all the +people.”</p> + +<p>“Sure ’twas no more than you deserved +for being such busy little bees,” Granny approved.</p> + +<p>“The only trouble was,” Maida went on +smilingly, “that they liked everything so +much that they could not decide which they +wanted most. Of course, the boys preferred +Arthur’s carvings and the girls +Rosie’s candy. But it was hard to say who +liked Dicky’s things the best.”</p> + +<p>Granny twinkled with delight. She had +never told Maida, but she did not need to +tell her, that Dicky was her favorite.</p> + +<p>“And then the grown people who came, +Granny! First Arthur’s father on his way +to work, then Mrs. Lathrop and Laura—they +bought loads of things, and Mrs. Clark +and Mrs. Doyle and even Mr. Flanagan +bought a hockey-stick. He said,” Maida +dimpled with delight, “he said he bought it +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +to use on Arthur and Rosie if they ever +hooked jack again. Poor Miss Allison +bought one of Arthur’s ‘cats’—what do you +suppose for?”</p> + +<p>Granny had no idea.</p> + +<p>“To wind her wool on. Then Billy came +at the last minute and bought everything +that was left. And just think, Granny, +there was a crowd of little boys and girls +who had stood about watching all day without +any money to spend and Billy divided +among them all the things he bought. +Guess how much money they made!”</p> + +<p>Granny guessed three sums, and each +time Maida said, triumphantly, “More!” +At last Granny had to give it up.</p> + +<p>“Arthur made five dollars and thirty +cents. Dicky made three dollars and +eighty-seven cents. Rosie made two dollars +and seventy cents.”</p> + +<p>After dinner that night, Maida accompanied +Rosie and Dicky on the Christmas-shopping +expedition.</p> + +<p>They went first to a big dry goods store +with Dicky. They helped Dicky to pick out +a fur collar for his mother from a counter +marked conspicuously $2.98. The one they +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +selected was of gray and brown fur. It was +Maida’s opinion that it was sable and chinchilla +mixed.</p> + +<p>Dicky’s face shone with delight when at +last he tucked the big round box safely under +his arm. “Just think, I’ve been planning +to do this for three years,” he said, +“and I never could have done it now if it +hadn’t been for you, Maida.”</p> + +<p>Next Dicky took the two little girls where +they could buy razors. “The kind that goes +like a lawn-mower,” Rosie explained to the +proprietor. The man stared hard before he +showed them his stock. But he was very +kind and explained to them exactly how the +wonderful little machine worked.</p> + +<p>Maida noticed that Rosie examined very +carefully all the things displayed in windows +and on counters. But nothing she +saw seemed to satisfy her, for she did not +buy.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Rosie?” Maida asked after +a while.</p> + +<p>“I’m looking for something for my +mother.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll help you,” Maida said. She took +Rosie’s hand, and, thus linked together, the +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +two little girls discussed everything that +they saw.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, Rosie uttered a little cry of joy +and stopped at a jeweler’s window. A tray +with the label, “SOLID SILVER, $1,” +overflowed with little heart-shaped pendants.</p> + +<p>“Mama’d love one of those,” Rosie said. +“She just loved things she could hang round +her neck.”</p> + +<p>They went inside. “It’s just what I +want,” Rosie declared. “But I wish I had +a little silver chain for it. I can’t afford +one though,” she concluded wistfully.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know what to do,” Maida said. +“Buy a piece of narrow black velvet ribbon. +Once my father gave my mother a beautiful +diamond heart. Mother used to wear it on +a black velvet ribbon. Afterwards papa +bought her a chain of diamonds. But she +always liked the black velvet best and so did +papa and so did I. Papa said it made her +neck look whiter.”</p> + +<p>The other three children looked curiously +at Maida when she said, “diamond heart.” +When she said, “string of diamonds,” they +looked at each other. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Was that another of your dreams, +Maida?” Rosie asked mischievously.</p> + +<p>“Dreams!” Maida repeated, firing up. +But before she could say anything that she +would regret, the dimples came. “Perhaps +it was a dream,” she said prettily. “But if +it was, then everything’s a dream.”</p> + +<p>“I believe every word that Maida says,” +Dicky protested stoutly.</p> + +<p>“I believe that Maida believes it,” Arthur +said with a smile.</p> + +<p>They all stopped with Rosie while she +bought the black velvet ribbon and strung +the heart on it. She packed it neatly away +in the glossy box in which the jeweler had +done it up.</p> + +<p>“If my mama doesn’t come back to wear +that heart, nobody else ever will,” she said +passionately. “Never—never—never—unless +I have a little girl of my own some day.”</p> + +<p>“Your mother’ll come back,” Maida +said.</p> + +<hr /> +<div> +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>CHRISTMAS HAPPENINGS</h3> +<p class="returnTOC"><a href="#Contents">Return to Table of Contents</a></p> +</div> + +<p>Maida was awakened early Christmas +morning by a long, wild peal of the +bell. Before she could collect her scattered +wits, she heard Rosie’s voice, “Merry +Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry +Christmas! Oh, Granny, won’t you please +let me run upstairs and wake Maida? I’ve +got something dreadfully important to tell +her.”</p> + +<p>Maida heard Granny’s bewildered “All +roight, child,” heard Rosie’s rush through +the living-room and then she bounded out +of bed, prickling all over with excitement.</p> + +<p>“Maida,” Rosie called from the stairs, +“wake up! I’ve something wonderful to +tell you.”</p> + +<p>But Maida had guessed it.</p> + +<p>“I know,” she cried, as Rosie burst into +the room. “Your mother’s come home.”</p> + +<p>“My mother’s come home,” Rosie echoed.</p> + +<p>The two little girls seized each other and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +hopped around the room in a mad dance, +Maida chanting in a deep sing-song, “Your +mother’s come home!” and Rosie screaming +at the top of her lungs, “My mother’s come +home!” After a few moments of this, they +sank exhausted on the bed.</p> + +<p>“Tell me all about it,” Maida gasped. +“Begin at the very beginning and don’t +leave anything out.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” Rosie began, “I will. +When I went to bed last night after leaving +you, I got to thinking of my mother and +pretty soon I was so sad that I nearly cried +my eyes out. Well, after a long while I got +to sleep and I guess I must have been very +tired, for I didn’t wake up the way I do +generally of my own accord. Aunt Theresa +had to wake me. She put on my best dress +and did my hair this new way and even let +me put cologne on. I couldn’t think why, +because I never dress up until afternoons. +Once when I looked at her, I saw there were +tears in her eyes and, oh, Maida, it made me +feel something awful, for I thought she was +going to tell me that my mother was dead. +When I came downstairs, my father hugged +me and kissed me and sat with me while I +ate my breakfast. Oh, I was so afraid he +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +was going to tell me that mother was dead! +But he didn’t! After awhile, he said, +<span style="font-style: normal">‘Your Christmas presents are all up in your +mother’s bedroom, Rosie.’</span> So I skipped +up there. My father and Aunt Theresa +didn’t come with me, but I noticed they +stood downstairs and listened. I opened +the door.”</p> + +<p>Rosie stopped for breath.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” Maida entreated; “oh, do +hurry.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there, lying on the bed was my +mother. Maida, I felt so queer that I +couldn’t move. My feet wouldn’t walk—-just +like in a dream. My mother said, +<span style="font-style: normal">‘Come here, my precious little girl,’</span> but it +sounded as if it came from way, way, way +off. And Maida <span style="font-style: italic">then</span> I could move. I ran +across the room and hugged her and kissed +her until I couldn’t breathe. Then she said, +<span style="font-style: normal">‘I have a beautiful Christmas gift for you, +little daughter,’</span> and she pulled something +over towards me that lay, all wrapped up, in +a shawl on the bed. What do you think it +was?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Oh, tell me, Rosie!”</p> + +<p>“Guess,” Rosie insisted, her eyes dancing. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Rosie, if you don’t tell me this minute, +I’ll pinch you.”</p> + +<p>“It was a baby—a little baby brother.”</p> + +<p>“A baby! Oh, Rosie!”</p> + +<p>The two little girls hopped about the +room in another mad dance.</p> + +<p>“Maida, he’s the darlingest baby that +ever was in the whole wide world! His +name is Edward. He’s only six weeks old +and <span style="font-style: italic">he can smile</span>,”</p> + +<p>“Smile, Rosie?”</p> + +<p>“He can—I saw him—and sneeze!”</p> + +<p>“Sneeze, Rosie?”</p> + +<p>“That’s not all,” said Rosie proudly. +“He can wink his eyes and double up his +fists—and—and—and a whole lot of things. +There’s no doubt that he’s a remarkable +baby. My mother says so. And pretty as—oh, +he’s prettier than any puppy I ever +saw. He’s a little too pink in the face and +he hasn’t much hair yet—there’s a funny +spot in the top of his head that goes up and +down all the time that you have to be dreadfully +careful about. But he certainly is the +loveliest baby I ever saw. What do you +think my mother let me do?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, what?”</p> + +<p>“She let me rock him for a moment. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +And I asked her if you could rock him some +day and she said you could.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! oh!”</p> + +<p>“And what else do you think she’s going +to let me do?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t guess. Oh, tell me quick, +Rosie.”</p> + +<p>“She says she’s going to let me give him +his bath Saturdays and Sundays and wheel +him out every day in his carriage.”</p> + +<p>“Rosie,” Maida said impressively, “you +ought to be the happiest little girl in the +world. Think of having a baby brother for +a Christmas present. You will let me wheel +him sometimes, won’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I will. I shall divide him exactly +in half with you.”</p> + +<p>“Where has your mother been all this +time?” Maida asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, she’s been dreadfully sick in a hospital. +She was sick after the baby came to +her—so sick that she couldn’t even take +care of him. She said they were afraid she +was going to die. But she’s all right now. +Father bought her for Christmas a beautiful, +long, red-silk dress that’s just to lie +down in. She looks like a queen in it, and +yet she looks like a little girl, too, for her +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +hair is done in two braids. Her hair comes +way down below her waist like your mother’s +hair. And when I gave her the little +silver heart, she was so pleased with it. +She put it right on and it looked sweet. +She said she would much rather wear it on +a black velvet ribbon than on a silver +chain.”</p> + +<p>“Everything’s come out all right, hasn’t +it?” Maida said with ecstasy.</p> + +<p>“I guess it has. Now I must go. I want +to be sure to be there when the baby wakes +up. I asked my mother when you could see +the baby, Maida, and she said to-morrow. +I can’t wait to show you its feet—you never +did see such little toes in your life.”</p> + +<p>Exciting as this event was, it was as nothing +to what followed.</p> + +<p>Granny and Maida were still talking +about Rosie’s happiness when Billy Potter +suddenly came marching through the shop +and into the living-room.</p> + +<p>“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! +Merry Christmas!” they all said at once.</p> + +<p>“Granny,” Billy asked immediately, “if +you could have your choice of all the Christmas +gifts in the world, which one would you +choose?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<p>An expression of bewilderment came +into Granny’s bright blue eyes.</p> + +<p>“A Christmas gift, Misther Billy,” she +said in an uncertain tone; “I cudn’t t’ink +of a t’ing as long as Oi can’t have me little +Annie wid me.”</p> + +<p>Maida saw Billy’s eyes snap and sparkle +at the word Annie. She wondered what—Could +it be possible that—She began to +tremble.</p> + +<p>“And so you’d choose your daughter, +Granny?” Billy questioned.</p> + +<p>“Choose my daughter. Av coorse Oi +wud!” Granny stopped to stare in astonishment +at Billy. “Oh, Misther Billy, if +you cud only foind her!” She gazed imploringly +at him. Billy continued to smile +at her, his eyes all “skrinkled up.” Granny +jumped to her feet. She seized Billy’s arm. +“Oh, Misther Billy, you <span style="font-style: italic">have</span> found her,” +she quavered.</p> + +<p>Billy nodded. “I’ve found her, Granny! +I told you I would and I have. Now don’t +get excited. She’s all right and you’re all +right and everything’s all right. She’ll be +here just as soon as you’re ready to see +her.”</p> + +<p>For a moment Maida was afraid Granny +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +was going to faint, for she dropped back +into her chair and her eyes filled with tears. +But at Billy’s last words the old fire came +back to her eyes, the color to her cheeks. +“Oi want to see her at wance,” she said with +spirit.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” Billy said. “Last night I happened +to fall into conversation with a young +Irishman who had come to read the gas-meter +in my house. I asked him where he +came from. He said, <span style="font-style: normal">‘Aldigarey, County +Sligo.’</span> I asked him if he knew Annie +Flynn. <span style="font-style: normal">‘Sure, didn’t she marry my cousin? +She lives—’</span> Well, the short of it is +that I went right over to see her, though +it was late then. I found her a widow with +two children. She nearly went crazy at the +prospect of seeing her mother again, but +we agreed that we must wait until morning. +We planned—oh, come in, Annie,” he called +suddenly.</p> + +<p>At his call, the shop door opened and +shut. There was a rush of two pairs of +feet through the shop. In the doorway appeared +a young woman carrying a baby. +Behind her came a little boy on crutches. +Granny stood like a marble statue, staring. +But Maida screamed. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + +<p>Who do you suppose they were?</p> + +<p>They were Mrs. Dore and Delia and +Dicky.</p> + +<p>“Oh, my mother!” Mrs. Dore said.</p> + +<p>“My little Annie—my little girl,” Granny +murmured. The tears began to stream +down her cheeks.</p> + +<p>Followed kissings and huggings by the +dozen. Followed questions and answers by +the score.</p> + +<p>“And to t’ink you’ve been living forninst +us all this time,” Granny said after the excitement +had died down. She was sitting +on the couch now, with Delia asleep in her +lap, Mrs. Dore on one side and Dicky on the +other. “And sure, me own hearrt was telling +me the trut’ all the toime did Oi but +listhen to ut—for ’twas loving this foine little +lad ivry minut av the day.” She patted +Dicky’s head. “And me niver seeing the +baby that had me own name!” She cuddled +Delia close. “OI’m the happiest +woman in the whole woide wurrld this +day.”</p> + +<p> +It was arranged that the two families +were to have Christmas dinner together. +Dicky and Mrs. Dore hurried back for a +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +few moments to bring their turkey to the +feast.</p> + +<p>“Granny, will you love me just the same +now that you’ve got Dicky and Delia?” +Maida said wistfully.</p> + +<p>“Love you, my lamb? Sure, I’ll love you +all the more for ’twas t’rough you I met +Misther Billy and t’rough Misther Billy I +found me Annie. Ah, Misther Billy, ’tis +the grand man you make for such a b’y that +you are!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, m’m,” said Billy.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Dore returned, mother and +daughter went to work on the dinner, while +Billy and Maida and Dicky trimmed the +tree. When the door opened, they caught +bits of conversation, Granny’s brogue +growing thicker and thicker in her excitement, +and Mrs. Dore relapsing, under its influence, +into old-country speech. At such +times, Maida noticed that Billy’s eyes always +“skrinkled up.”</p> + +<p>They were just putting the finishing +touches to the tree when the window darkened +suddenly. Maida looked up in surprise. +And then, “Oh, my papa’s come!” +she screamed; “my papa’s come to my +Christmas tree after all!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<p>There is so much to tell about the Christmas +tree that I don’t know where to begin.</p> + +<p>First of all came Laura and Harold. +Mrs. Lathrop stopped with them for a moment +to congratulate Mrs. Dore on finding +her mother.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Lathrop, permit me to introduce +my father, Mr. Westabrook,” Maida said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lathrop was very gracious. “The +neighborhood have accepted your daughter +as Mrs. Flynn’s grandchild, Mr. Westabrook. +But I guessed the truth from the +first. I believed, however, that you wished +the matter kept a secret and I have said +nothing of it to anybody.”</p> + +<p>“I thank you, madam,” said “Buffalo” +Westabrook, bending on her one of his +piercing scrutinies. “How ever the neighborhood +accepted her, they have given her +back her health. I can never be too grateful +to them.”</p> + +<p>Came Rosie next with a, “Oh, Maida, if +you could only have seen Edward when my +mother bathed him to-night!” Came Arthur, +came the Doyles, came the Clark twins +with Betsy tagging at their heels. Last of +all, to Maida’s great delight, came Dr. +Pierce. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nobody was allowed to go into the shop +where the tree stood until the last guest +had arrived. But in spite of their impatience +they had a gay half hour of waiting. +Billy amused them with all kinds of games +and tricks and jokes, and when he tired, Dr. +Pierce, who soon became a great favorite, +took them in hand.</p> + +<p>Dr. Pierce sat, most of the evening, holding +Betsy in his lap, listening to her funny +baby chatter and roaring at her escapades. +He took a great fancy to the Clark twins +and made all manner of fun for the children +by pretending that there was only one of +them. “Goodness; how you do fly about!” +he would say ruefully to Dorothy, “An instant +ago you were standing close beside +me,” or “How can you be here on the +couch,” he would say to Mabel, “when there +you are as plain as a pikestaff standing up +in the corner?”</p> + +<p>“What can you do about that leg, Eli?” +Mr. Westabrook asked Dr. Pierce once +when Dicky swung across the room.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been thinking about that,” Dr. +Pierce answered briskly. “I guess Granny +and Annie will have to let me take Dicky for +a while. A few months in my hospital and +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +he’ll be jumping round here like a frog with +the toothache.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dr. Pierce, do you think you can +cure him?” Mrs. Dore asked, clasping her +hands.</p> + +<p>“Cure him!” Dr. Pierce answered with +his jolliest laugh. “Of course we can. +He’s not in half so bad a condition as +Maida was when we straightened her out. +Greinschmidt taught us a whole bag of +tricks. Dicky could almost mend himself if +he’d only stay still long enough. Look at +Maida. Would you ever think she’d been +much worse than Dicky?”</p> + +<p>Everybody stared hard at Maida, seated +on her father’s knee, and she dimpled and +blushed under the observation. She was +dressed all in white—white ribbons, white +sash, white socks and shoes, the softest, +filmiest white cobweb dress. Her hair +streamed loose—a cascade of delicate, clinging +ringlets of the palest gold. Her big, +gray eyes, soft with the happiness of the +long day, reflected the firelight. Her +cheeks had grown round as well as pink and +dimpled.</p> + +<p>She did not look sick.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Dicky,” she cried, “just think, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +you’re going to be cured. Didn’t I tell you +when my father saw you, he’d fix it all +right? My father’s a magician!”</p> + +<p>But Dicky could not answer. He was +gulping furiously to keep back the tears of +delight. But he smiled his radiant smile. +Billy took everybody’s attention away from +him by turning an unexpected cartwheel in +the middle of the floor.</p> + +<p>Finally, Maida announced that it was +time for the tree. They formed in line and +marched into the shop to a tune that Billy +thumped out of the silver-toned old spinet.</p> + +<p>I wish you could have heard the things +the children said.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The tree went close to the ceiling. Just +above it, with arms outstretched, swung a +beautiful Christmas angel. Hanging from +it were all kinds of glittery, quivery, +sparkly things in silver and gold. Festooned +about it were strings of pop corn +and cranberries. At every branch-tip glistened +a long glass icicle. And the whole +thing was ablaze with candles and veiled +in a mist of gold and silver.</p> + +<p>At the foot of the tree, groups of tiny +figures in painted plaster told the whole +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +Christmas Day story from the moment of +the first sight of the star by the shepherds +who watched their flocks to the arrival, at +the manger, of the Wise Men, bearing gold, +frankincense and myrrh.</p> + +<p>Billy Potter disappeared for a moment +and came in, presently, the most chubby and +pink-faced and blue-eyed of Santa Clauses, +in purple velvet trimmed with ermine, with +long white hair and a long white beard.</p> + +<p>I can’t begin to name to you all the fruits +of that magic tree. From Maida, there +came to Rosie a big golden cage with a pair +of canary birds, to Arthur a chest of wonderful +tools, to Dicky a little bookcase full +of beautiful books, to Laura a collection of +sashes and ribbons, to Harold a long train +of cars. For Molly, Betsy and the Clark +twins came so many gifts that you could +hardly count them all—dolls and dolls’ +wardrobes, tiny doll-houses and tinier doll-furniture. +For Tim came a sled and bicycle.</p> + +<p>To Maida came a wonderful set of paper +boxes from Dicky, a long necklace of carved +beads from Arthur, a beautiful blank-book, +with all her candy recipes, beautifully written +out, from Rosie, a warm little pair of +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +knitted bed-shoes from Granny, a quaint, +little, old-fashioned locket from Dr. Pierce—he +said it had once belonged to another +little sick girl who died.</p> + +<p>From Billy came a book. Perhaps you +can fancy how Maida jumped when she read +“The Crystal Ball,” by William Potter, on +the cover. But I do not think you can +imagine how pleased she looked when inside +she read the printed dedication, “To Petronilla.”</p> + +<p>From her father came a beautiful miniature +of her mother, painted on ivory. +The children crowded about her to see the +beautiful face of which Maida had told them +so much. There was the mass of golden +hair which she had described so proudly. +There, too, was a heart-shaped pendant of +diamonds, suspended from a black velvet +ribbon tied close to the white throat.</p> + +<p>The children looked at the picture. Then +they looked at each other.</p> + +<p>But Maida did not notice. She was +watching eagerly while Dr. Pierce and Billy +and her father opened her gifts to them.</p> + +<p>She was afraid they would not understand. +“They’re to save time, you see, +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +when you want to shave in a hurry,” she +explained.</p> + +<p>“Maida,” her father said gravely, “that +is a very thoughtful gift. It’s strange +when you come to think of it, as busy a man +as I am and with all the friends I have, nobody +has ever thought to give me a safety +razor.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know how I ever managed to get +along without one,” Dr. Pierce declared, his +curls bobbing.</p> + +<p>“As for me—I shall probably save about +a third of my income in the future,” Billy +announced.</p> + +<p>All three were so pleased that they +laughed for a long time.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to give you another Christmas +present, Maida,” Mr. Westabrook said suddenly, +“I’m going to give us both one—a +vacation. We’re going to start for Europe, +week after next.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, papa, papa, how lovely!” Maida +said. “Shall we see Venice again? But +how can I give up my little shop and my +friends?”</p> + +<p>“Maida going away!” the children exclaimed. +“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” “But +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +Mr. Westabrook, isn’t Maida coming back +again?” Rosie asked. “How I shall miss +her!” Laura chimed in.</p> + +<p>“Take my lamb away,” Granny wailed. +“Sure, she’ll be tuk sick in those woild +counthries! You’ll have to take me wid +you, Misther Westabrook—only—only—” +She did not finish her sentence but her eyes +went anxiously to her daughter’s face.</p> + +<p>“No, Granny, you’re not to go,” Mr. +Westabrook said decisively; “You’re to stay +right here with your daughter and her children. +You’re all to run the shop and live +over it. Maida’s old enough and well +enough to take care of herself now. And I +think she’d better begin to take care of me +as well. Don’t you think so, Maida?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I do, papa. If you need me, +I want to.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Westabrook,” Molly broke into the +conversation determinedly, “did you ever +give Maida a pair of Shetland ponies?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Westabrook bent on the Robin the +most amused of his smiles.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said.</p> + +<p>“And an automobile?” Tim asked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Westabrook turned to the Bogle. +“Yes,” he said, a little puzzled. +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p> + +<p>“And did Maida’s mother have a gold +brush with her initials in diamonds on it?” +Rosie asked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Westabrook roared. “Yes,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“And have you got twelve peacocks, two +of them white?” Arthur asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And has Maida a little theater of her +own and a doll-house as big as a cottage?” +Laura asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And did she have a May-party last year +that she invited over four hundred children +to?” Harold asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And did you give her her weight in silver +dollars once?” Mabel asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“And a family of twenty dolls?” Dorothy +asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you shall see all these things when +we come back,” Mr. Westabrook promised.</p> + +<p>“Then why did she run away?” Betsy +asked solemnly.</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed.</p> + +<p>“I always said Maida was a princess in +disguise,” Dicky maintained, “and now I +<span class='pagenum'><a id="page294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +suppose she’s going back and be a princess +again.”</p> + +<p>“Dicky was the first friend I made, +papa,” Maida said, smiling at her first +friend.</p> + +<p>“But you’ll come back some time, won’t +you, Maida?” Dicky begged.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Dicky,” Maida answered, +“<span style="font-style: italic">I’ll</span> +come back.”</p> + +<p>Yes, Maida did come back. And what fun +they all have, the Little Six in their private +quarters, and the Big Six with their picnics, +and their adventures with the Gypsies, is +told in <span style="font-style: italic">Maida’s Little House</span>.<br /></p> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">THE END<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<hr class="full" /> + +<p style="font-size: 125%; text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">THE CAROLYN WELLS BOOKS FOR GIRLS</p> +<hr /> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Fresh, spirited stories that the modern small girl will take to her +heart these well known books by a famous author have won an important +place in the field of juvenile fiction.</p> + +<p style="margin-top:2.0em; text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">THE FAMOUS “PATTY” BOOKS</p> +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" summary="Patty Books" width="60%"> +<tr><td>Patty Fairfield</td><td>Patty’s Motor Car</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty at Home</td><td>Patty’s Butterfly Days</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty in the City</td><td>Patty’s Social Season</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty’s Summer Days</td><td>Patty’s Suitors</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty in Paris</td><td>Patty’s Romance</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty’s Friend</td><td>Patty’s Fortune</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty’s Pleasure Trip</td><td>Patty Blossom</td></tr> +<tr><td>Patty’s Success</td><td>Patty—Bride</td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" align="center">Patty and Azalea</td></tr> +</table> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 2.00em; margin-bottom: 1.00em">THE MARJORIE BOOKS</p> +<table style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" summary="Marjorie Books" width="60%"> +<tr><td>Marjorie’s Vacation</td><td>Marjorie in Command</td></tr> +<tr><td>Marjorie’s Busy Days</td><td>Marjorie’s Maytime</td></tr> +<tr><td>Marjorie’s New Friend</td><td>Marjorie at Seacote</td></tr> +</table> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 2.00em ;margin-bottom: 1.00em">TWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIES</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Two Little Women<br /> +Two Little Women and Treasure House<br /> +Two Little Women on a Holiday +</p> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-top: 2.00em; margin-bottom: 1.00em">DORRANCE SERIES</p> +<p style="text-align: center">The Dorrance Domain<br /> +Dorrance Doings +</p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p style="font-size: 125%; text-align: center; ">THE MARY JANE SERIES</p> +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">By CLARA INGRAM JUDSON</p> +<hr /> +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">Each Volume Complete in Itself.</p> +<hr /> +<p>Take a trip with Mary Jane. She is the heroine of this popular +series for young girls. You’ll find her a charming traveling +companion. Her good nature, her abounding interest in her +friends and surroundings, and her fascinating adventures both +at home and abroad have endeared her to thousands all over +the country.</p> + +<blockquote><p>MARY JANE—HER BOOK<br /> +MARY JANE—HER VISIT<br /> +MARY JANE’S KINDERGARTEN<br /> +MARY JANE DOWN SOUTH<br /> +MARY JANE’S CITY HOME<br /> +MARY JANE IN NEW ENGLAND<br /> +MARY JANE’S COUNTRY HOME<br /> +MARY JANE AT SCHOOL<br /> +MARY JANE IN CANADA<br /> +MARY JANE’S SUMMER FUN<br /> +MARY JANE’S WINTER SPORTS<br /> +MARY JANE’S VACATION<br /> +MARY JANE IN ENGLAND<br /> +MARY JANE IN SCOTLAND<br /> +MARY JANE IN FRANCE<br /> +MARY JANE IN SWITZERLAND<br /> +MARY JANE IN ITALY<br /> +MARY JANE IN SPAIN<br /> +MARY JANE’S FRIENDS IN HOLLAND</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p style="font-size: 125%; text-align: center; ">THE BEVERLY GRAY STORIES</p> +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">by <br />CLAIR BANK</p> +<hr /> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">These stories, full of the fun and thrills of college +life, with an exciting mystery in each, have unusual +appeal for the modern girl.</p> + +<blockquote><p>BEVERLY GRAY, FRESHMAN<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY, SOPHOMORE<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY, JUNIOR<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY, SENIOR<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY’S CAREER<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY ON A WORLD CRUISE<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY IN THE ORIENT<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY ON A TREASURE HUNT<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY’S RETURN<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY, REPORTER<br /> +BEVERLY GRAY’S ROMANCE</p> +</blockquote> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p style="font-size: 125%; text-align: center; ">MELODY LANE MYSTERY STORIES</p> +<p style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">By <br />LILIAN GARIS</p> +<hr /> + +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Thrills, secrets, ghosts—adventures that +will fascinate you seem to surround +pretty Carol Duncan. A vivid, plucky girl, her cleverness at solving mysteries +will captivate and thrill every mystery fan.</p> +<p></p> +<p>THE GHOST OF MELODY LANE</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">Three people see the "ghost" that wanders in the grove carrying a waxy white +rose. And in the end Carol finds the rose and the ghost too!</p> + +<p>THE FORBIDDEN TRAIL</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">Carol has several bad frights before she clears up the mystery that keeps +the family at Splatter Castle unhappy and afraid.</p> + +<p>THE TOWER SECRET</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">The winking lights from the old tower defy explanation. Had the engaging +circus family anything to do with them?</p> + +<p>THE WILD WARNING</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">What power did the strange, wild warning in the woods have over Polly +Flinders? Carol brings happiness to three families when she solves this mystery.</p> + +<p>THE TERROR AT MOANING CLIFF</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">Carol finally tracks the uncanny “haunts” in the great, bleak house on +“moaning cliff” to their source.</p> + +<p>THE DRAGON OF THE HILLS</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">When Carol runs a tea shop for a friend, a baffling mystery comes to her with +her first customer.</p> + +<p>THE MYSTERY OF STINGYMAN’S ALLEY</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em">An adorable child is left at the day nursery where Carol works—who are all +the mysterious people trying to claim her?</p> + +<p>THE SECRET OF THE KASHMIR SHAWL</p> +<p style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-left: 5.00em"><span style="font-style: italic">A sequel to </span>“The Wild +Warning”<br />A shawl brought from Egypt brings with it an absorbing mystery which +Cecy, with the aid of Polly Flinders, finally solves.</p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p style="font-size: 125%; text-align: center; ">FAIRY TALES</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-style: italic">and +tales of wonder that are favorites of young people the world over</span> +</p> + +<table summary="Fairy Tales" width="80%"> +<tr><td>ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE</td><td>Miss Mulock</td></tr> +<tr><td>ANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES</td><td>Hans Christian Andersen</td></tr> +<tr><td>AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH WIND</td><td>George MacDonald</td></tr> +<tr><td>THE BLUE FAIRY BOOK</td><td>Andrew Lang</td></tr> +<tr><td>ENGLISH FAIRY TALES</td><td>Joseph Jacobs</td></tr> +<tr><td>GRANNY’S WONDERFUL CHAIR</td><td>Frances Browne</td></tr> +<tr><td>GRIMM’S FAIRY TALES</td><td>The Brothers Grimm</td></tr> +<tr><td>JAPANESE FAIRY TALES</td><td>Yei Theadora Ozaki</td></tr> +<tr><td>THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE</td><td>Miss Mulock</td></tr> +<tr><td>PINOCCHIO</td><td>C. Collodi</td></tr> +<tr><td>THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE</td><td>George MacDonald</td></tr> +<tr><td>THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN</td><td>George MacDonald</td></tr> +<tr><td>THE RED FAIRY BOOK</td><td>Andrew Lang</td></tr> +<tr><td>THE WATER BABIES</td><td>Charles Kingsley</td></tr> +</table> + +<table style="margin-top: 2.00em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" summary="Publisher" width="60%"> +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center"><span style="font-size: 125%">GROSSET &. DUNLAP</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td style="text-align: left"><span style="font-style: italic;">Publishers</span></td> + <td style="text-align: right"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">New York</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr class="full" /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Maida's Little Shop, by Inez Haynes Irwin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP *** + +***** This file should be named 17530-h.htm or 17530-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/5/3/17530/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Maida's Little Shop + +Author: Inez Haynes Irwin + +Release Date: January 16, 2006 [EBook #17530] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +Maida's Little Shop +By +Inez Haynes Irwin + +Author of +MAIDA'S LITTLE HOUSE, +MAIDA'S LITTLE SCHOOL, ETC. + +Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers +New York + +Copyright, 1909, by +B. W. HUEBSCH + + + +TO +LITTLE P. D. +FROM +BIG P. D. + + + +CONTENTS + +Chapter I: The Ride +Chapter II: Cleaning Up +Chapter III: The First Day +Chapter IV: The Second Day +Chapter V: Primrose Court +Chapter VI: Two Calls +Chapter VII: Trouble +Chapter VIII: A Rainy Day +Chapter IX: Work +Chapter X: Play +Chapter XI: Halloween +Chapter XII: The First Snow +Chapter XIII: The Fair +Chapter XIV: Christmas Happenings + + + + + MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP + + CHAPTER I: THE RIDE + + +Four people sat in the big, shining automobile. Three of them were +men. The fourth was a little girl. The little girl's name was Maida +Westabrook. The three men were "Buffalo" Westabrook, her father, Dr. +Pierce, her physician, and Billy Potter, her friend. They were +coming from Marblehead to Boston. + +Maida sat in one corner of the back seat gazing dreamily out at the +whirling country. She found it very beautiful and very curious. They +were going so fast that all the reds and greens and yellows of the +autumn trees melted into one variegated band. A moment later they +came out on the ocean. And now on the water side were two other +streaks of color, one a spongy blue that was sky, another a clear +shining blue that was sea. Maida half-shut her eyes and the whole +world seemed to flash by in ribbons. + +"May I get out for a moment, papa?" she asked suddenly in a thin +little voice. "I'd like to watch the waves." + +"All right," her father answered briskly. To the chauffeur he said, +"Stop here, Henri." To Maida, "Stay as long as you want, Posie." + +"Posie" was Mr. Westabrook's pet-name for Maida. + +Billy Potter jumped out and helped Maida to the ground. The three +men watched her limp to the sea-wall. + +She was a child whom you would have noticed anywhere because of her +luminous, strangely-quiet, gray eyes and because of the ethereal +look given to her face by a floating mass of hair, pale-gold and +tendrilly. And yet I think you would have known that she was a sick +little girl at the first glance. When she moved, it was with a great +slowness as if everything tired her. She was so thin that her hands +were like claws and her cheeks scooped in instead of out. She was +pale, too, and somehow her eyes looked too big. Perhaps this was +because her little heart-shaped face seemed too small. + +"You've got to find something that will take up her mind, Jerome," +Dr. Pierce said, lowering his voice, "and you've got to be quick +about it. Just what Greinschmidt feared has come--that languor--that +lack of interest in everything. You've got to find something for her +to _do_." + +Dr. Pierce spoke seriously. He was a round, short man, just exactly +as long any one way as any other. He had springy gray curls all over +his head and a nose like a button. Maida thought that he looked like +a very old but a very jolly and lovable baby. When he laughed--and he +was always laughing with Maida--he shook all over like jelly that has +been turned out of a jar. His very curls bobbed. But it seemed to +Maida that no matter how hard he chuckled, his eyes were always +serious when they rested on her. + +Maida was very fond of Dr. Pierce. She had known him all her life. +He had gone to college with her father. He had taken care of her +health ever since Dr. Greinschmidt left. Dr. Greinschmidt was the +great physician who had come all the way across the ocean from +Germany to make Maida well. Before the operation Maida could not +walk. Now she could walk easily. Ever since she could remember she +had always added to her prayers at night a special request that she +might some day be like other little girls. Now she was like other +little girls, except that she limped. And yet now that she could do +all the things that other little girls did, she no longer cared to +do them--not even hopping and skipping, which she had always expected +would be the greatest fun in the world. Maida herself thought this +very strange. + +"But what can I find for her to do?" "Buffalo" Westabrook said. + +You could tell from the way he asked this question that he was not +accustomed to take advice from other people. Indeed, he did not look +it. But he looked his name. You would know at once why the +cartoonists always represented him with the head of a buffalo; why, +gradually, people had forgotten that his first name was Jerome and +referred to him always as "Buffalo" Westabrook. + +Like the buffalo, his head was big and powerful and emerged from the +midst of a shaggy mane. But it was the way in which it was set on +his tremendous shoulders that gave him his nickname. When he spoke +to you, he looked as if he were about to charge. And the glance of +his eyes, set far back of a huge nose, cut through you like a pair +of knives. + +It surprised Maida very much when she found that people stood in awe +of her father. It had never occurred to her to be afraid of him. + +"I've racked my brains to entertain her," "Buffalo" Westabrook went +on. "I've bought her every gimcrack that's made for children--her +nursery looks like a toy factory. I've bought her prize ponies, +prize dogs and prize cats--rabbits, guinea-pigs, dancing mice, +talking parrots, marmosets--there's a young menagerie at the place in +the Adirondacks. I've had a doll-house and a little theater built +for her at Pride's. She has her own carriage, her own automobile, +her own railroad car. She can have her own flying-machine if she +wants it. I've taken her off on trips. I've taken her to the theater +and the circus. I've had all kinds of nurses and governesses and +companions, but they've been mostly failures. Granny Flynn's the +best of the hired people, but of course Granny's old. I've had other +children come to stay with her. Selfish little brutes they all +turned out to be! They'd play with her toys and ignore her +completely. And this fall I brought her to Boston, hoping her +cousins would rouse her. But the Fairfaxes decided suddenly to go +abroad this winter. If she'd only express a desire for something, +I'd get it for her--if it were one of the moons of Jupiter." + +"It isn't anything you can _give_ her," Dr. Pierce said impatiently; +"you must find something for her to _do_." + +"Say, Billy, you're an observant little duck. Can't you tell us +what's the matter?" "Buffalo" Westabrook smiled down at the third +man of the party. + +"The trouble with the child," Billy Potter said promptly, "is that +everything she's had has been 'prize.' Not that it's spoiled her at +all. Petronilla is as simple as a princess in a fairy-tale." + +"Petronilla" was Billy Potter's pet-name for Maida. + +"Yes, she's wonderfully simple," Dr. Pierce agreed. "Poor little +thing, she's lived in a world of bottles and splints and bandages. +She's never had a chance to realize either the value or the +worthlessness of things." + +"And then," Billy went on, "nobody's ever used an ounce of +imagination in entertaining the poor child." + +"Imagination!" "Buffalo" Westabrook growled. "What has imagination +to do with it?" + +Billy grinned. + +Next to her father and Granny Flynn, Maida loved Billy Potter better +than anybody in the world. He was so little that she could never +decide whether he was a boy or a man. His chubby, dimply face was +the pinkest she had ever seen. From it twinkled a pair of blue eyes +the merriest she had ever seen. And falling continually down into +his eyes was a great mass of flaxen hair, the most tousled she had +ever seen. + +Billy Potter lived in New York. He earned his living by writing for +newspapers and magazines. Whenever there was a fuss in Wall +Street--and the papers always blamed "Buffalo" Westabrook if this +happened--Billy Potter would have a talk with Maida's father. Then he +wrote up what Mr. Westabrook said and it was printed somewhere. Men +who wrote for the newspapers were always trying to talk with Mr. +Westabrook. Few of them ever got the chance. But "Buffalo" +Westabrook never refused to talk with Billy Potter. Indeed, the two +men were great friends. + +"He's one of the few reporters who can turn out a good story and +tell it straight as I give it to him," Maida had once heard her +father say. Maida knew that Billy could turn out good stories--he had +turned out a great many for her. + +"What has imagination to do with it?" Mr. Westabrook repeated. + +"It would have a great deal to do with it, I fancy," Billy Potter +answered, "if somebody would only imagine the right thing." + +"Well, imagine it yourself," Mr. Westabrook snarled. "Imagination +seems to be the chief stock-in-trade of you newspaper men." + +Billy grinned. When Billy smiled, two things happened--one to you and +the other to him. Your spirits went up and his eyes seemed to +disappear. Maida said that Billy's eyes "skrinkled up." The effect +was so comic that she always laughed--not with him but at him. + +"All right," Billy agreed pleasantly; "I'll put the greatest +creative mind of the century to work on the job." + +"You put it to work at once, young man," Dr. Pierce said. "The thing +I'm trying to impress on you both is that you can't wait too long." + +"Buffalo" Westabrook stirred uneasily. His fierce, blue eyes +retreated behind the frown in his thick brows until all you could +see were two shining points. He watched Maida closely as she limped +back to the car. "What are you thinking of, Posie?" he asked. + +"Oh, nothing, father," Maida said, smiling faintly. This was the +answer she gave most often to her father's questions. "Is there +anything you want, Posie?" he was sure to ask every morning, or, +"What would you like me to get you to-day, little daughter?" The +answer was invariable, given always in the same soft, thin little +voice: "Nothing, father--thank you." + +"Where are we now, Jerome?" Dr. Pierce asked suddenly. + +Mr. Westabrook looked about him. "Getting towards Revere." + +"Let's go home through Charlestown," Dr. Pierce suggested. "How +would you like to see the house where I was born, Maida--that old +place on Warrington Street I told you about yesterday. I think you'd +like it, Pinkwink." + +"Pinkwink" was Dr. Pierce's pet-name for Maida. + +"Oh, I'd love to see it." A little thrill of pleasure sparkled in +Maida's flat tones. "I'd just love to." + +Dr. Pierce gave some directions to the chauffeur. + +For fifteen minutes or more the men talked business. They had come +away from the sea and the streams of yellow and red and green trees. +Maida pillowed her head on the cushions and stared fixedly at the +passing streets. But her little face wore a dreamy, withdrawn look +as if she were seeing something very far away. Whenever "Buffalo" +Westabrook's glance shot her way, his thick brows pulled together +into the frown that most people dreaded to face. + +"Now down the hill and then to the left," Dr. Pierce instructed +Henri. + +Warrington Street was wide and old-fashioned. Big elms marching in a +double file between the fine old houses, met in an arch above their +roofs. At intervals along the curbstones were hitching-posts of +iron, most of them supporting the head of a horse with a ring in his +nose. One, the statue of a negro boy with his arms lifted above his +head, seemed to beg the honor of holding the reins. Beside these +hitching-posts were rectangular blocks of granite--stepping-stones +for horseback riders and carriage folk. + +"There, Pinkwink," Dr. Pierce said; "that old house on the +corner--stop here, Henri, please--that's where I was brought up. The +old swing used to hang from that tree and it was from that big bough +stretching over the fence that I fell and broke my arm." + +Maida's eyes brightened. "And there's the garret window where the +squirrels used to come in," she exclaimed. + +"The same!" Dr. Pierce laughed. "You don't forget anything, do you? +My goodness me! How small the house looks and how narrow the street +has grown! Even the trees aren't as tall as they should be." + +Maida stared. The trees looked very high indeed to her. And she +thought the street quite wide enough for anybody, the houses very +stately. + +"Now show me the school," she begged. + +"Just a block or two, Henri," Dr. Pierce directed. + +The car stopped in front of a low, rambling wooden building with a +yard in front. + +"That's where you covered the ceiling with spit-balls," Maida asked. + +"The same!" Dr. Pierce laughed heartily at the remembrance. It +seemed to Maida that she had never seen his curls bob quite so +furiously before. + +"It's one of the few wooden, primary buildings left in the city," he +explained to the two men. "It can't last many years now. It's +nothing but a rat-trap but how I shall hate to see it go!" + +Opposite the school was a big, wide court. Shaded with beautiful +trees--maples beginning to flame, horse-chestnuts a little browned, +it was lined with wooden toy houses, set back of fenced-in yards and +veiled by climbing vines. Pigeons were flying about, alighting now +and then to peck at the ground or to preen their green and purple +necks. Boys were spinning tops. Girls were jumping rope. The dust +they kicked up had a sweet, earthy smell in Maida's nostrils. As she +stared, charmed with the picture, a little girl in a scarlet cape +and a scarlet hat came climbing up over one of the fences. Quick, +active as a squirrel, she disappeared into the next yard. + +"Primrose Court!" Dr. Pierce exclaimed. "Well, well, well!" + +"Primrose Court," Maida repeated. "Do primroses grow there?" + +"Bless your heart, no," Dr. Pierce laughed; "it was named after a +man called Primrose who used to own a great deal of the +neighborhood." + +But Maida was scarcely listening. "Oh, what a cunning little shop!" +she exclaimed. "There, opposite the court. What a perfectly darling +little place!" + +"Good Lord! that's Connors'," Dr. Pierce explained. "Many a reckless +penny I've squandered there, my dear. Connors was the funniest, old, +bent, dried-up man. I wonder who keeps it now." + +As if in answer to his question, a wrinkled old lady came to the +window to take a paper-doll from the dusty display there. + +"What are those yellow things in that glass jar?" Maida asked. + +"Pickled limes," Dr. Pierce responded promptly. "How I used to love +them!" + +"Oh, father, buy me a pickled lime," Maida pleaded. "I never had one +in my life and I've been crazy to taste one ever since I read +'Little Women.'" + +"All right," Mr. Westabrook said. "Let's come in and treat Maida to +a pickled lime." + +A bell rang discordantly as they opened the door. Its prolonged +clangor finally brought the old lady from the room at the back. She +looked in surprise at the three men in their automobile coats and at +the little lame girl. + +Coming in from the bright sunshine, the shop seemed unpleasantly +dark to Maida. After a while she saw that its two windows gave it +light enough but that it was very confused, cluttery and dusty. + +Mr. Westabrook bought four pickled limes and everybody ate--three of +them with enjoyment, Billy with many wry faces and a decided, +"Stung!" after the first taste. + +"I like pickled limes," Maida said after they had started for +Boston. "What a funny little place that was! Oh, how I would like to +keep a little shop just like it." + +Billy Potter started. For a moment it seemed as if he were about to +speak. But instead, he stared hard at Maida, falling gradually into +a brown study. From time to time he came out of it long enough to +look sharply at her. The sparkle had all gone out of her face. She +was pale and dream-absorbed again. + +Her father studied her with increasing anxiety as they neared the +big house on Beacon Street. Dr. Pierce's face was shadowed too. + +"Eureka! I've found it!" Billy exclaimed as they swept past the +State House. "I've got it, Mr. Westabrook." + +"Got what?" + +Billy did not answer at once. The automobile had stopped in front of +a big red-brick house. Over the beautifully fluted columns that held +up the porch hung a brilliant red vine. Lavender-colored glass, here +and there in the windows, made purple patches on the lace of the +curtains. + +"Got what?" Mr. Westabrook repeated impatiently. + +"That little job of the imagination that you put me on a few moments +ago," Billy answered mysteriously. "In a moment," he added with a +significant look at Maida. "You stay too, Dr. Pierce. I want your +approval." + +The door of the beautiful old house had opened and a man in livery +came out to assist Maida. On the threshold stood an old +silver-haired woman in a black-silk gown, a white cap and apron, a little +black shawl pinned about her shoulders. + +"How's my lamb?" she asked tenderly of Maida. + +"Oh, pretty well," Maida said dully. "Oh, Granny," she added with a +sudden flare of enthusiasm, "I saw the cunningest little shop. I +think I'd rather tend shop than do anything else in the world." + +Billy Potter smiled all over his pink face. He followed Mr. +Westabrook and Dr. Pierce into the drawing-room. + + ---------------------- + +Maida went upstairs with Granny Flynn. + +Granny Flynn had come straight to the Westabrook house from the boat +that brought her from Ireland years ago. She had come to America in +search of a runaway daughter but she had never found her. She had +helped to nurse Maida's mother in the illness of which she died and +she had always taken such care of Maida herself that Maida loved her +dearly. Sometimes when they were alone, Maida would call her "Dame," +because, she said, "Granny looks just like the 'Dame' who comes into +fairy-tales." + +Granny Flynn was very little, very bent, very old. "A t'ousand and +noine, sure," she always answered when Maida asked her how old. Her +skin had cracked into a hundred wrinkles and her long sharp nose and +her short sharp chin almost met. But the wrinkles surrounded a pair +of eyes that were a twinkling, youthful blue. And her down-turned +nose and up-growing chin could not conceal or mar the lovely +sweetness of her smile. + +Just before Maida went to bed that night, she was surprised by a +visit from her father. + +"Posie," he said, sitting down on her bed, "did you really mean it +to-day when you said you would like to keep a little shop?" + +"Oh, yes, father! I've been thinking it over ever since I came home +from our ride this afternoon. A little shop, you know, just like the +one we saw to-day." + +"Very well, dear, you shall keep a shop. You shall keep that very +one. I'm going to buy out the business for you and put you in charge +there. I've got to be in New York pretty steadily for the next three +months and I've decided that I'll send you and Granny to live in the +rooms over the shop. I'll fix the place all up for you, give you +plenty of money to stock it and then I expect you to run it and make +it pay." + +Maida sat up in bed with a vigor that surprised her father. She +shook her hands--a gesture that, with her, meant great delight. She +laughed. It was the first time in months that a happy note had +pealed in her laughter. "Oh, father, dear, how good you are to me! +I'm just crazy to try it and I know I can make it pay--if hard work +helps." + +"All right. That's settled. But listen carefully to what I'm going +to say, Posie. I can't have this getting into the papers, you know. +To prevent that, you're to play a game while you're working in the +shop--just as princesses in fairy-tales had to play games sometimes. +You're going _in disguise_. Do you understand?" + +"Yes, father, I understand." + +"You're to pretend that you belong to Granny Flynn, that you're her +grandchild. You won't have to tell any lies about it. When the +children in the neighborhood hear you call her 'Granny,' they'll +simply take it for granted that you're her son's child. + +"Or I can pretend I'm poor Granny's lost daughter's little girl," +Maida suggested. + +"If you wish. Billy Potter's going to stay here in Boston and help +you. You're to call on him, Posie, if you get into any snarl. But I +hope you'll try to settle all your own difficulties before turning +to anybody else. Do you understand?" + +"Yes, father. Father, dear, I'm so happy. Does Granny know?" + +"Yes." + +Maida heaved an ecstatic sigh. "I'm afraid I shan't get to sleep +to-night--just thinking of it." + +But she did sleep and very hard--the best sleep she had known since +her operation. And she dreamed that she opened a shop--a big shop +this was--on the top of a huge white cloud. She dreamed that her +customers were all little boy and girl angels with floating, golden +curls and shining rainbow-colored wings. She dreamed that she sold +nothing but cake. She used to cut generous slices from an angel-cake +as big as the golden dome of the Boston state house. It was very +delicious--all honey and jelly and ice cream on the inside, and all +frosting, stuck with candies and nuts and fruits, on the outside. + + ---------------------- + +The people on Warrington Street were surprised to learn in the +course of a few days that old Mrs. Murdock had sold out her business +in the little corner store. For over a week, the little place was +shut up. The school children, pouring into the street twice a day, +had to go to Main Street for their candy and lead pencils. For a +long time all the curtains were kept down. Something was going on +inside, but what, could not be guessed from the outside. Wagons +deposited all kinds of things at the door, rolls of paper, tins of +paint, furniture, big wooden boxes whose contents nobody could +guess. Every day brought more and more workmen and the more there +were, the harder they worked. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, all +the work stopped. + +The next morning when the neighborhood waked up, a freshly-painted +sign had taken the place over the door of the dingy old black and +white one. The lettering was gilt, the background a skyey blue. It +read: + + MAIDA'S LITTLE SHOP + + + + + + CHAPTER II: CLEANING UP + + +The next two weeks were the busiest Maida ever knew. + +In the first place she must see Mrs. Murdock and talk things over. +In the second place, she must examine all the stock that Mrs. +Murdock left. In the third place, she must order new stock from the +wholesale places. And in the fourth place, the rooms must be made +ready for her and Granny to live in. It was hard work, but it was +great fun. + +First, Mrs. Murdock called, at Billy's request, at his rooms on +Mount Vernon Street. Granny and Maida were there to meet her. + +Mrs. Murdock was a tall, thin, erect old lady. Her bright black eyes +were piercing enough, but it seemed to Maida that the round-glassed +spectacles, through which she examined them all, were even more so. + +"I've made out a list of things for the shop that I'm all out of," +she began briskly. "You'll know what the rest is from what's left on +the shelves. Now about buying--there's a wagon comes round once a +month and I've told them to keep right on a-coming even though I +ain't there. They'll sell you your candy, pickles, pickled limes and +all sich stuff. You'll have to buy your toys in Boston--your paper, +pens, pencils, rubbers and the like also, but not at the same places +where you git the toys. I've put all the addresses down on the list. +I don't see how you can make any mistakes." + +"How long will it take you to get out of the shop?" Billy asked. + +Maida knew that Billy enjoyed Mrs. Murdock, for often, when he +looked at that lady, his eyes "skrinkled up," although there was not +a smile on his face. + +"A week is all I need," Mrs. Murdock declared. "If it worn't for +other folks who are keeping me waiting, I'd have that hull place +fixed as clean as a whistle in two shakes of a lamb's tail. Now I'll +put a price on everything, so's you won't be bothered what to +charge. There's some things I don't ever git, because folks buy too +many of them and it's sich an everlasting bother keeping them in +stock. But you're young and spry, and maybe you won't mind jumping +about for every Tom, Dick and Harry. But, remember," she added in +parting, "don't git expensive things. Folks in that neighborhood +ain't got no money to fool away. Git as many things as you can for a +cent a-piece. Git some for five and less for ten and nothing for +over a quarter. But you must allus callulate to buy some things to +lose money on. I mean the truck you put in the window jess to make +folks look in. It gits dusty and fly-specked before you know it and +there's an end on it. I allus send them to the Home for Little +Wanderers at Christmas time." + +Early one morning, a week later, a party of three--Granny Flynn, +Billy and Maida--walked up Beacon Street and across the common to the +subway. Maida had never walked so far in her life. But her father +had told her that if she wanted to keep the shop, she must give up +her carriage and her automobile. That was not hard. She was willing +to give up anything that she owned for the little shop. + +They left the car at City Square in Charlestown and walked the rest +of the way. It was Saturday, a brilliant morning in a beautiful +autumn. All the children in the neighborhood were out playing. Maida +looked at each one of them as she passed. They seemed as wonderful +as fairy beings to her--for would they not all be her customers soon? +And yet, such was her excitement, she could not remember one face +after she had passed it. A single picture remained in her mind--a +picture of a little girl standing alone in the middle of the court. +Black-haired, black-eyed, a vivid spot of color in a scarlet cape +and a scarlet hat, the child was scattering bread-crumbs to a flock +of pigeons. The pigeons did not seem afraid of her. They flew close +to her feet. One even alighted on her shoulder. + +"It makes me think of St. Mark's in Venice," Maida said to Billy. + +But, little girl--scarlet cape--flocks of doves--St. Mark's, all went +out of her head entirely when she unlocked the door of the little +shop. + +"Oh, oh, oh!" she cried, "how nice and clean it looks!" + +The shop seemed even larger than she remembered it. The confused, +dusty, cluttery look had gone. But with its dull paint and its +blackened ceiling, it still seemed dark and dingy. + +Maida ran behind the counter, peeped into the show cases, poked her +head into the window, drew out the drawers that lined the wall, +pulled covers from the boxes on the shelves. There is no knowing +where her investigations would have ended if Billy had not said: + +"See here, Miss Curiosity, we can't put in the whole morning on the +shop. This is a preliminary tour of investigation. Come and see the +rest of it. This way to the living-room!" + +The living-room led from the shop--a big square room, empty now, of +course. Maida limped over to the window. "Oh, oh, oh!" she cried; +"did you ever see such a darling little yard?" + +"It surely is little," Billy agreed, "not much bigger than a pocket +handkerchief, is it?" + +And yet, scrap of a place as the yard was, it had an air of +completeness, a pretty quaintness. Two tiny brick walks curved from +the door to the gate. On either side of these spread out microscopic +flower-beds, crowded tight with plants. Late-blooming dahlias and +asters made spots of starry color in the green. A vine, running over +the door to the second story, waved like a crimson banner dropped +from the window. + +"The old lady must have been fond of flowers," Billy Potter said. He +squinted his near-sighted blue eyes and studied the bunches of +green. "Syringa bush in one corner. Lilac bush in the other. +Nasturtiums at the edges. Morning-glories running up the fence. +Sunflowers in between. My, won't it be fun to see them all racing up +in the spring!" + +Maida jumped up and down at the thought. She could not jump like +other children. Indeed, this was the first time that she had ever +tried. It was as if her feet were like flat-irons. Granny Flynn +turned quickly away and Billy bit his lips. + +"I know just how I'm going to fix this room up for you, Petronilla," +Billy said, nodding his head mysteriously. "Now let's go into the +kitchen." + +The kitchen led from the living-room. Billy exclaimed when he saw it +and Maida shook her hands, but it was Granny who actually screamed +with delight. + +Much bigger than the living-room, it had four windows with sunshine +pouring in through every one of them. But it was not the four +windows nor yet the sunshine that made the sensation--it was the +stone floor. + +"We'll put a carpet on it if you think it's too cold, Granny," Billy +suggested immediately. + +"Oh, lave it be, Misther Billy," Granny begged. "'Tis loike me ould +home in Oireland. Sure 'tis homesick Oi am this very minut looking +at ut." + +"All right," Billy agreed cheerfully. "What you say goes, Granny. +Now upstairs to the sleeping-rooms." + +To get to the second floor they climbed a little stairway not more +than three feet wide, with steps very high, most of them triangular +in shape because the stairway had to turn so often. And +upstairs--after they got there--consisted of three rooms, two big and +square and light, and one smaller and darker. + +"The small room is to be made into a bathroom," Billy explained, +"and these two big ones are to be your bedrooms. Which one will you +have, Maida?" + +Maida examined both rooms carefully. "Well, I don't care for myself +which I have," she said. "But it does seem as if there were a +teeny-weeny more sun in this one. I think Granny ought to have it, for +she loves the sunshine on her old bones. You know, Billy, Granny and I +have the greatest fun about our bones. Hers are all wrong because +they're so old, and mine are all wrong because they're so young." + +"All right," Billy agreed. "Sunshiny one for Granny, shady one for +you. That's settled! I hope you realize, Miss Maida, Elizabeth, +Fairfax, Petronilla, Pinkwink, Posie Westabrook what perfectly bully +rooms these are! They're as old as Noah." + +"I'm glad they're old," Maida said. "But of course they must be. +This house was here when Dr. Pierce was a little boy. And that must +have been a long, long, long time ago." + +"Just look at the floors," Billy went on admiringly. "See how uneven +they are. You'll have to walk straight here, Petronilla, to keep +from falling down. That old wooden wainscoting is simply charming. +That's a nice old fireplace too. And these old doors are perfect." + +Granny Flynn was working the latch of one of the old doors with her +wrinkled hands. "Manny's the toime Oi've snibbed a latch loike that +in Oireland," she said, and she smiled so hard that her very +wrinkles seemed to twinkle. + +"And look at the windows, Granny," Billy said. "Sixteen panes of +glass each. I hope you'll make Petronilla wash them." + +"Oh, Granny, will you let me wash the windows?" Maida asked +ecstatically. + +"When you're grand and sthrong," Granny promised. + +"I know just how I'll furnish the room," Billy said half to himself. + +"Oh, Billy, tell me!" Maida begged. + +"Can't," he protested mischievously. "You've got to wait till it's +all finished before you see hide or hair of it." + +"I know I'll die of curiosity," Maida protested. "But then of course +I shall be very busy with my own business." + +"Ah, yes," Billy replied. "Now that you've embarked on a mercantile +career, Miss Westabrook, I think you'll find that you'll have less +and less time for the decorative side of life." + +Billy spoke so seriously that most little girls would have been awed +by his manner. But Maida recognized the tone that he always employed +when he was joking her. Beside, his eyes were all "skrinkled up." +She did not quite understand what the joke was, but she smiled back +at him. + +"Now can we look at the things downstairs?" she pleaded. + +"Yes," Billy assented. "To-day is a very important day. Behind +locked doors and sealed windows, we're going to take account of +stock." + +Granny Flynn remained in the bedrooms to make all kinds of +mysterious measurements, to open and shut doors, to examine closets, +to try window-sashes, even to poke her head up the chimney. + +Downstairs, Billy and Maida opened boxes and boxes and boxes and +drawers and drawers and drawers. Every one of these had been +carefully gone over by the conscientious Mrs. Murdock. Two boxes +bulged with toys, too broken or soiled to be of any use. These they +threw into the ash-barrel at once. What was left they dumped on the +floor. Maida and Billy sat down beside the heap and examined the +things, one by one. Maida had never seen such toys in her life--so +cheap and yet so amusing. + +It was hard work to keep to business with such enchanting temptation +to play all about them. Billy insisted on spinning every top--he got +five going at once--on blowing every balloon--he produced such +dreadful wails of agony that Granny came running downstairs in great +alarm--on jumping with every jump-rope--the short ones tripped him up +and once he sprawled headlong--on playing jackstones--Maida beat him +easily at this--on playing marbles--with a piece of crayon he drew a +ring on the floor--on looking through all the books--he declared that +he was going to buy some little penny-pamphlet fairy-tales as soon +as he could save the money. But in spite of all this fooling, they +really accomplished a great deal. + +They found very few eatables--candy, fruit, or the like. Mrs. Murdock +had wisely sold out this perishable stock. One glass jar, however, +was crammed full of what Billy recognized to be "bulls-eyes"--round +lumps of candy as big as plums and as hard as stones. Billy said +that he loved bulls-eyes better than terrapin or broiled live +lobster, that he had not tasted one since he was "half-past ten." +For the rest of the day, one of his cheeks stuck out as if he had +the toothache. + +They came across all kinds of odds and ends--lead pencils, +blank-books, an old slate pencil wrapped in gold paper which Billy +insisted on using to draw pictures on a slate--he made this squeak so +that Maida clapped her hands over her ears. They found single pieces +from sets of miniature furniture, a great many dolls, rag-dolls, +china dolls, celluloid dolls, the latest bisque beauties, and two +old-fashioned waxen darlings whose features had all run together +from being left in too great a heat. + +They went through all these things, sorting them into heaps which +they afterwards placed in boxes. At noon, Billy went out and bought +lunch. Still squatting on the floor, the three of them ate +sandwiches and drank milk. Granny said that Maida had never eaten so +much at one meal. + +All this happened on Saturday. Maida did not see the little shop +again until it was finished. + +By Monday the place was as busy as a beehive. Men were putting in a +furnace, putting in a telephone, putting in a bathroom, whitening +the plaster, painting the woodwork. + +Finally came two days of waiting for the paint to dry. "Will it +ever, _ever_, EVER dry?" Maida used to ask Billy in the most +despairing of voices. + +By Thursday, the rooms were ready for their second coat of paint. + +"Oh, Billy, do tell me what color it is--I can't wait to see it," +Maida begged. + +But, "Sky-blue-pink" was all she got from Billy. + +Saturday the furniture came. + +In the meantime, Maida had been going to all the principal wholesale +places in Boston picking out new stock. Granny Flynn accompanied her +or stayed at home, according to the way she felt, but Billy never +missed a trip. + +Maida enjoyed this tremendously, although often she had to go to bed +before dark. She said it was the responsibility that tired her. + +To Maida, these big wholesale places seemed like the storehouses of +Santa Claus. In reality they were great halls, lined with parallel +rows of counters. The counters were covered with boxes and the boxes +were filled with toys. Along the aisles between the counters moved +crowds of buyers, busily examining the display. + +It was particularly hard for Maida to choose, because she was +limited by price. She kept recalling Mrs. Murdock's advice, "Get as +many things as you can for a cent a-piece." The expensive toys +tempted her, but although she often stopped and looked them +wistfully over, she always ended by going to the cheaper counters. + +"You ought to be thinking how you'll decorate the windows for your +first day's sale," Billy advised her. "You must make it look as +tempting as possible. I think, myself, it's always a good plan to +display the toys that go with the season." + +Maida thought of this a great deal after she went to bed at night. +By the end of the week, she could see in imagination just how her +windows were going to look. + +Saturday night, Billy told her that everything was ready, that she +should see the completed house Monday morning. It seemed to Maida +that the Sunday coming in between was the longest day that she had +ever known. + +When she unlocked the door to the shop, the next morning, she let +out a little squeal of joy. "Oh, I would never know it," she +declared. "How much bigger it looks, and lighter and prettier!" + +Indeed, you would never have known the place yourself. The ceiling +had been whitened. The faded drab woodwork had been painted white. +The walls had been colored a beautiful soft yellow. Back of the +counter a series of shelves, glassed in by sliding doors, ran the +whole length of the wall and nearly to the ceiling. Behind the show +case stood a comfortable, cushioned swivel-chair. + +"The stuff you've been buying, Petronilla," Billy said, pointing to +a big pile of boxes in the corner. "Now, while Granny and I are +putting some last touches to the rooms upstairs, you might be +arranging the window." + +"That's just what I planned to do," Maida said, bubbling with +importance. "But you promise not to interrupt me till it's all +done." + +"All right," Billy agreed, smiling peculiarly. He continued to smile +as he opened the boxes. + +It did not occur to Maida to ask them what they were going to do +upstairs. It did not occur to her even to go up there. From time to +time, she heard Granny and Billy laughing. "One of Billy's jokes," +she said to herself. Once she thought she heard the chirp of a bird, +but she would not leave her work to find out what it was. + +When the twelve o'clock whistle blew, she called to Granny and to +Billy to come to see the results of her morning's labor. + +"I say!" Billy emitted a long loud whistle. + +"Oh, do you like it?" Maida asked anxiously. + +"It's a grand piece of work, Petronilla," Billy said heartily. + +The window certainly struck the key-note of the season. Tops of all +sizes and colors were arranged in pretty patterns in the middle. +Marbles of all kinds from the ten-for-a-cent "peeweezers" up to the +most beautiful, colored "agates" were displayed at the sides. +Jump-ropes of variegated colors with handles, brilliantly painted, were +festooned at the back. One of the window shelves had been furnished +like a tiny room. A whole family of dolls sat about on the tiny +sofas and chairs. On the other shelf lay neat piles of blank-books +and paper-blocks, with files of pens, pencils, and rubbers arranged +in a decorative pattern surrounding them all. + +In the show case, fresh candies had been laid out carefully on +saucers and platters of glass. On the counter was a big, flowered +bowl. + +"To-morrow, I'm going to fill that bowl with asters," Maida +explained. + +"OI'm sure the choild has done foine," Granny Flynn said, "Oi cudn't +have done betther mesilf." + +"Now come and look at your rooms, Petronilla," Billy begged, his +eyes dancing. + +Maida opened the door leading into the living-room. Then she +squealed her delight, not once, but continuously, like a very happy +little pig. + +The room was as changed as if some good fairy had waved a magic wand +there. All the woodwork had turned a glistening white. The wall +paper blossomed with garlands of red roses, tied with snoods of red +ribbons. At each of the three windows waved sash curtains of a snowy +muslin. At each of the three sashes hung a golden cage with a pair +of golden canaries in it. Along each of the three sills marched pots +of brilliantly-blooming scarlet geraniums. A fire spluttered and +sparkled in the fireplace, and drawn up in front of it was a big +easy chair for Granny, and a small easy one for Maida. Familiar +things lay about, too. In one corner gleamed the cheerful face of +the tall old clock which marked the hours with so silvery a voice +and the moon-changes by such pretty pictures. In another corner +shone the polished surface of a spidery-legged little spinet. Maida +loved both these things almost as much as if they had been human +beings, for her mother and her grandmother and her great-grandmother +had loved them before her. Needed things caught her eyes everywhere. +Here was a little bookcase with all her favorite books. There was a +desk, stocked with business-like-looking blank-books. Even the +familiar table with Granny's "Book of Saints" stood near the easy +chair. Granny's spectacles lay on an open page, familiarly marking +the place. + +In the center of the room stood a table set for three. + +"It's just the dearest place," Maida said. "Billy, you've remembered +everything. I thought I heard a bird peep once, but I was too busy +to think about it." + +"Want to go upstairs?" Billy asked. + +"I'd forgotten all about bedrooms." Maida flew up the stairs as if +she had never known a crutch. + +The two bedrooms were very simple, all white--woodwork, furniture, +beds, even the fur rugs on the floor. But they were wonderfully gay +from the beautiful paper that Billy had selected. In Granny's room, +the walls imitated a flowered chintz. But in Maida's room every +panel was different. And they all helped to tell the same happy +story of a day's hunting in the time when men wore long feathered +hats on their curls, when ladies dressed like pictures and all +carried falcons on their wrists. + +"Granny, Granny," Maida called down to them, "Did you ever see any +place in all your life that felt so _homey_?" + +"I guess it will do," Billy said in an undertone. + +That night, for the first time, Maida slept in the room over the +little shop. + + + + + + CHAPTER III: THE FIRST DAY + + +If you had gone into the little shop the next day, you would have +seen a very pretty picture. + +First of all, I think you would have noticed the little girl who sat +behind the counter--a little girl in a simple blue-serge dress and a +fresh white "tire"--a little girl with shining excited eyes and +masses of pale-gold hair, clinging in tendrilly rings about a thin, +heart-shaped face--a little girl who kept saying as she turned round +and round in her swivel-chair: + +"Oh, Granny, do you think _anybody's_ going to buy _anything_ +to-day?" + +Next I think you would have noticed an old woman who kept coming to +the living-room door--an old woman in a black gown and a white apron +so stiffly starched that it rattled when it touched anything--an old +woman with twinkling blue eyes and hair, enclosing, as in a silver +frame, a little carved nut of a face--an old woman who kept soothing +the little girl with a cheery: + +"Now joost you be patient, my lamb, sure somebody'll be here soon." + +The shop was unchanged since yesterday, except for a big bowl of +asters, red, white and blue. + +"Three cheers for the red, white and blue," Maida sang when she +arranged them. She had been singing at intervals ever since. +Suddenly the latch slipped. The bell rang. + +Maida jumped. Then she sat so still in her high chair that you would +have thought she had turned to stone. But her eyes, glued to the +moving door, had a look as if she did not know what to expect. + +The door swung wide. A young man entered. It was Billy Potter. + +He walked over to the show case, his hat in his hand. And all the +time he looked Maida straight in the eye. But you would have thought +he had never seen her before. + +"Please, mum," he asked humbly, "do you sell fairy-tales here?" + +Maida saw at once that it was one of Billy's games. She had to bite +her lips to keep from laughing. "Yes," she said, when she had made +her mouth quite firm. "How much do you want to pay for them?" + +"Not more than a penny each, mum," he replied. + +Maida took out of a drawer the pamphlet-tales that Billy had liked +so much. + +"Are these what you want?" she asked. But before he could answer, +she added in a condescending tone, "Do you know how to read, little +boy?" + +Billy's face twitched suddenly and his eyes "skrinkled up." Maida +saw with a mischievous delight that he, in his turn, was trying to +keep the laughter back. + +"Yes, mum," he said, making his face quite serious again. "My +teacher says I'm the best reader in the room." + +He took up the little books and looked them over. "'The Three +Boars'--no,'Bears,'" he corrected himself. "'Puss-in-Boats'--no, +'Boots'; 'Jack-and-the-Bean-Scalp'--no,'Stalk'; 'Jack the +Joint-Cooler'--no, 'Giant-Killer'; 'Cinderella,' 'Bluebird'--no, +'Bluebeard'; 'Little Toody-Goo-Shoes'--no, 'Little Goody-Two-Shoes'; +'Tom Thumb,' 'The Sweeping Beauty,'--no, 'The Sleeping Beauty,' 'The +Babes in the Wood.' I guess I'll take these ten, mum." + +He felt in all his pockets, one after another. After a long time, he +brought out some pennies, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, +eight, nine, ten," he counted slowly. + +He took the books, turned and left the shop. Maida watched him in +astonishment. Was he really going for good? + +In a few minutes the little bell tinkled a second time and there +stood Billy again. + +"Good morning, Petronilla," he said pleasantly, as if he had not +seen her before that morning, "How's business?" + +"Fine!" Maida responded promptly. "I've just sold ten fairy books to +the funniest little boy you ever saw." + +"My stars and garters!" Billy exclaimed. "Business surely is brisk. +Keep that up and you can afford to have a cat. I've brought you +something." + +He opened the bag he carried and took a box out from it. "Hold out +your two hands,--it's heavy," he warned. + +In spite of his preparation, the box nearly fell to the floor--it was +so much heavier than Maida expected. "What can be in it?" she cried +excitedly. She pulled the cover off--then murmured a little "oh!" of +delight. + +The box was full--cram-jam full--of pennies; pennies so new that they +looked like gold--pennies so many that they looked like a fortune. + +"Gracious, what pretty money!" Maida exclaimed. "There must be a +million here." + +"Five hundred," Billy corrected her. + +He put some tiny cylindrical rolls of paper on the counter. Maida +handled them curiously--they, too, were heavy. + +"Open them," Billy commanded. + +Maida pulled the papers away from the tops. Bright new dimes fell +out of one, bright new nickels came from the other. + +"Oh, I'm so glad to have nice clean money," Maida said in a +satisfied tone. She emptied the money drawer and filled its pockets +with the shining coins. "It was very kind of you to think of it, +Billy. I know it will please the children." The thought made her +eyes sparkle. + +The bell rang again. Billy went out to talk with Granny, leaving +Maida alone to cope with her first strange customer. + +Again her heart began to jump into her throat. Her mouth felt dry on +the inside. She watched the door, fascinated. + +On the threshold two little girls were standing. They were exactly +of the same size, they were dressed in exactly the same way, their +faces were as alike as two peas in a pod. Maida saw at once that +they were twins. They had little round, chubby bodies, bulging out +of red sweaters; little round, chubby faces, emerging from tall, +peaky, red-worsted caps. They had big round eyes as expressionless +as glass beads and big round golden curls as stiff as candles. They +stared so hard at Maida that she began to wonder nervously if her +face were dirty. + +"Come in, little girls," she called. + +The little girls pattered over to the show case and looked in. But +their big round eyes, instead of examining the candy, kept peering +up through the glass top at Maida. And Maida kept peering down +through it at them. + +"I want to buy some candy for a cent," one of them whispered in a +timid little voice. + +"I want to buy some candy for a cent, too," the other whispered in a +voice, even more timid. + +"All the cent candy is in this case," Maida explained, smiling. + +"What are you going to have, Dorothy?" one of them asked. + +"I don't know. What are you going to have, Mabel?" the other +answered. They discussed everything in the one-cent case. Always +they talked in whispers. And they continued to look more often at +Maida than at the candy. + +"Have you anything two-for-a-cent?" Mabel whispered finally. + +"Oh, yes--all the candy in this corner." + +The two little girls studied the corner Maida indicated. For two or +three moments they whispered together. At one point, it looked as if +they would each buy a long stick of peppermint, at another, a paper +of lozenges. But they changed their minds a great many times. And in +the end, Dorothy bought two large pickles and Mabel bought two large +chocolates. Maida saw them swapping their purchases as they went +out. + +The two pennies which the twins handed her were still moist from the +hot little hands that had held them. Maida dropped them into an +empty pocket in the money drawer. She felt as if she wanted to keep +her first earnings forever. It seemed to her that she had never seen +such _precious-looking_ money. The gold eagles which her father had +given her at Christmas and on her birthday did not seem half so +valuable. + +But she did not have much time to think of all this. The bell rang +again. This time it was a boy--a big fellow of about fourteen, she +guessed, an untidy-looking boy with large, intent black eyes. A mass +of black hair, which surely had not been combed, fell about a face +that as certainly had not been washed that morning. + +"Give me one of those blue tops in the window," he said gruffly. He +did not add these words but his manner seemed to say, "And be quick +about it!" He threw his money down on the counter so hard that one +of the pennies spun off into a corner. + +He did not offer to pick the penny up. He did not even apologize. +And he looked very carefully at the top Maida handed him as if he +expected her to cheat him. Then he walked out. + +It was getting towards school-time. Children seemed to spring up +everywhere as if they grew out of the ground. The quiet streets +began to ring with the cries of boys playing tag, leap frog and +prisoners' base. The little girls, much more quiet, squatted in +groups on doorsteps or walked slowly up and down, arm-in-arm. But +Maida had little time to watch this picture. The bell was ringing +every minute now. Once there were six children in the little shop +together. + +"Do you need any help?" Granny called. + +"No, Granny, not yet," Maida answered cheerfully. + +But just the same, she did have to hurry. The children asked her for +all kinds of things and sometimes she could not remember where she +had put them. When in answer to the school bell the long lines began +to form at the big doorways, two round red spots were glowing in +Maida's cheeks. She drew an involuntary sigh of relief when she +realized that she was going to have a chance to rest. But first she +counted the money she had taken in. Thirty-seven cents! It seemed a +great deal to her. + +For an hour or more, nobody entered the shop. Billy left in a little +while for Boston. Granny, crooning an old Irish song, busied herself +upstairs in her bedroom. Maida sat back in her chair, dreaming +happily of her work. Suddenly the bell tinkled, rousing her with a +start. + +It seemed a long time after the bell rang before the door opened. +But at last Maida saw the reason of the delay. The little boy who +stood on the threshold was lame. Maida would have known that he was +sick even if she had not seen the crutches that held him up, or the +iron cage that confined one leg. + +His face was as colorless as if it had been made of melted wax. His +forehead was lined almost as if he were old. A tired expression in +his eyes showed that he did not sleep like other children. He must +often suffer, too--his mouth had a drawn look that Maida knew well. + +The little boy moved slowly over to the counter. It could hardly be +said that he walked. He seemed to swing between his crutches exactly +as a pendulum swings in a tall clock. Perhaps he saw the sympathy +that ran from Maida's warm heart to her pale face, for before he +spoke he smiled. And when he smiled you could not possibly think of +him as sick or sad. The corners of his mouth and the corners of his +eyes seemed to fly up together. It made your spirits leap just to +look at him. + +"I'd like a sheet of red tissue paper," he said briskly. + +Maida's happy expression changed. It was the first time that anybody +had asked her for anything which she did not have. + +"I'm afraid I haven't any," she said regretfully. + +The boy looked disappointed. He started to go away. Then he turned +hopefully. "Mrs. Murdock always kept her tissue paper in that drawer +there," he said, pointing. + +"Oh, yes, I do remember," Maida exclaimed. She recalled now a few +sheets of tissue paper that she had left there, not knowing what to +do with them. She pulled the drawer open. There they were, neatly +folded, as she had left them. + +"What did Mrs. Murdock charge for it?" she inquired. + +"A cent a sheet." + +Maida thought busily. "I'm selling out all the old stock," she said. +"You can have all that's left for a cent if you want it." + +"Sure!" the boy exclaimed. "Jiminy crickets! That's a stroke of luck +I wasn't expecting." + +He spread the half dozen sheets out on the counter and ran through +them. He looked up into Maida's face as if he wanted to thank her +but did not know how to put it. Instead, he stared about the shop. +"Say," he exclaimed, "you've made this store look grand. I'd never +know it for the same place. And your sign's a crackajack." + +The praise--the first she had had from outside--pleased Maida. It +emboldened her to go on with the conversation. + +"You don't go to school," she said. + +The moment she had spoken, she regretted it. It was plain to be +seen, she reproached herself inwardly, why he did not go to school. + +"No," the boy said soberly. "I can't go yet. Doc O'Brien says I can +go next year, he thinks. I'm wild to go. The other fellows hate +school but I love it. I s'pose it's because I can't go that I want +to. But, then, I want to learn to read. A fellow can have a good +time anywhere if he knows how to read. I can read some," he added in +a shamed tone, "but not much. The trouble is I don't have anybody to +listen and help with the hard words." + +"Oh, let me help you!" Maida cried. "I can read as easy as +anything." This was the second thing she regretted saying. For when +she came to think of it, she could not see where she was going to +have much time to herself. + +But the little lame boy shook his head. "Can't," he said decidedly. +"You see, I'm busy at home all day long and you'll be busy here. My +mother works out and I have to do most of the housework and take +care of the baby. Pretty slow work on crutches, you know--although +it's easy enough getting round after you get the hang of it. No, I +really don't have any time to fool until evenings." + +"Evenings!" Maida exclaimed electrically. "Why, that's just the +right time! You see I'm pretty busy myself during the daytime--at my +business." Her voice grew a little important on that last phrase. +"Granny! Granny!" she called. + +Granny Flynn appeared in the doorway. Her eyes grew soft with pity +when they fell on the little lame boy. "The poor little gossoon!" +she murmured. + +"Granny," Maida explained, "this little boy can't go to school +because his mother works all day and he has to do the housework and +take care of the baby, too, and he wants to learn to read because he +thinks he won't be half so lonely with books, and you know, Granny, +that's perfectly true, for I never suffered half so much with my +legs after I learned to read." + +It had all poured out in an uninterrupted stream. She had to stop +here to get breath. + +"Now, Granny, what I want you to do is to let me hear him read +evenings until he learns how. You see his mother comes home then and +he can leave the baby with her. Oh, do let me do it, Granny! I'm +sure I could. And I really think you ought to. For, if you'll excuse +me for saying so, Granny, I don't think you can understand as well +as I do what a difference it will make." She turned to the boy. +"Have you read 'Little Men' and 'Little Women'?" + +"No--why, I'm only in the first reader." + +"I'll read them to you," Maida said decisively, "and 'Treasure +Island' and 'The Princes and the Goblins' and 'The Princess and +Curdie.'" She reeled off the long list of her favorites. + +In the meantime, Granny was considering the matter. Dr. Pierce had +said to her of Maida: "Let her do anything that she wants to do--as +long as it doesn't interfere with her eating and sleeping. The main +thing to do is to get her _to want to do things_." + +"What's your name, my lad?" she asked. + +"Dicky Dore, ma'am," the boy answered respectfully. + +"Well, Oi don't see why you shouldn't thry ut, acushla," she said to +Maida. "A half an hour iv'ry avening after dinner. Sure, in a wake, +'twill be foine and grand we'll be wid the little store running like +a clock." + +"We'll begin next week, Monday," Maida said eagerly. "You come over +here right after dinner." + +"All right." The little lame boy looked very happy but, again, he +did not seem to know what to say. "Thank you, ma'am," he brought out +finally. "And you, too," turning to Maida. + +"My name's Maida." + +"Thank you, Maida," the boy said with even a greater display of +bashfulness. He settled the crutches under his thin shoulders. + +"Oh, don't go, yet," Maida pleaded. "I want to ask you some +questions. Tell me the names of those dear little girls--the twins." + +Dicky Dore smiled his radiant smile. "Their last name's Clark. Say, +ain't they the dead ringers for each other? I can't tell Dorothy +from Mabel or Mabel from Dorothy." + +"I can't, either," Maida laughed. "It must be fun to be a twin--to +have any kind of a sister or brother. Who's that big boy--the one +with the hair all hanging down on his face?" + +"Oh, that's Arthur Duncan." Dicky's whole face shone. "He's a dandy. +He can lick any boy of his size in the neighborhood. I bet he could +lick any boy of his size in the world. I bet he could lick his +weight in wild-cats." + +Maida's brow wrinkled. "I don't like him," she said. "He's not +polite." + +"Well, I like him," Dicky Dore maintained stoutly. "He's the best +friend I've got anywhere. Arthur hasn't any mother, and his father's +gone all day. He takes care of himself. He comes over to my place a +lot. You'll like him when you know him." + +The bell tinkling on his departure did not ring again till noon. But +Maida did not mind. + +"Granny," she said after Dicky left, "I think I've made a friend. +Not a friend somebody's brought to me--but a friend of my very own. +Just think of that!" + +At twelve, Maida watched the children pour out of the little +schoolhouse and disappear in all directions. At two, she watched +them reappear from all directions and pour into it again. But +between those hours she was so busy that she did not have time to +eat her lunch until school began again. After that, she sat +undisturbed for an hour. + +In the middle of the afternoon, the bell rang with an +important-sounding tinkle. Immediately after, the door shut with an +important-sounding slam. The footsteps, clattering across the room to +the show case, had an important-sounding tap. And the little girl, who +looked inquisitively across the counter at Maida, had decidedly an +important manner. + +She was not a pretty child. Her skin was too pasty, her blue eyes +too full and staring. But she had beautiful braids of glossy brown +hair that came below her waist. And you would have noticed her at +once because of the air with which she wore her clothes and because +of a trick of holding her head very high. + +Maida could see that she was dressed very much more expensively than +the other children in the neighborhood. Her dark, blue coat was +elaborate with straps and bright buttons. Her pale-blue beaver hat +was covered with pale-blue feathers. She wore a gold ring with a +turquoise in it, a silver bracelet with a monogram on it, a little +gun-metal watch pinned to her coat with a gun-metal pin, and a long +string of blue beads from which dangled a locket. + +Maida noticed all this decoration with envy, for she herself was +never permitted to wear jewelry. Occasionally, Granny would let her +wear one string from a big box of bead necklaces which Maida had +bought in Venice. + +"How much is that candy?" the girl asked, pointing to one of the +trays. + +Maida told her. + +"Dear me, haven't you anything better than that?" + +Maida gave her all her prices. + +"I'm afraid there's nothing good enough here," the little girl went +on disdainfully. "My mother won't let me eat cheap candy. Generally, +she has a box sent over twice a week from Boston. But the one we +expected to-day didn't come." + +"The little girl likes to make people think that she has nicer +things than anybody else," Maida thought. She started to speak. If +she had permitted herself to go on, she would have said: "The candy +in this shop is quite good enough for any little girl. But I won't +sell it to you, anyway." But, instead, she said as quietly as she +could: "No, I don't believe there's anything here that you'll care +for. But I'm sure you'll find lots of expensive candy on Main +Street." + +The little girl evidently was not expecting that answer. She +lingered, still looking into the show case. "I guess I'll take five +cents' worth of peppermints," she said finally. Some of the +importance had gone out of her voice. + +Maida put the candy into a bag and handed it to her without +speaking. The girl bustled towards the door. Half-way, she stopped +and came back. + +"My name is Laura Lathrop," she said. "What's yours?" + +"Maida." + +"Maida?" the girl repeated questioningly. "Maida?--oh, yes, I +know--Maida Flynn. Where did you live before you came here?" + +"Oh, lots of places." + +"But where?" Laura persisted. + +"Boston, New York, Newport, Pride's Crossing, the Adirondacks, +Europe." + +"Oh, my! Have you been to Europe?" Laura's tone was a little +incredulous. + +"I lived abroad a year." + +"Can you speak French?" + +"Oui, Mademoiselle, je parle Francais un peu." + +"Say some more," Laura demanded. + +Maida smiled. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, +dix, onze, douze--" + +Laura looked impressed. "Do you speak any other language?" + +"Italian and German--a very little." + +Laura stared hard at her and her look was full of question. But it +was evident that she decided to believe Maida. + +"I live in Primrose Court," she said, and now there was not a shadow +of condescension left in her voice. "That large house at the back +with the big lawn about it. I'd like to have you come and play with +me some afternoon. I'm very busy most of the time, though. I take +music and fancy dancing and elocution. Next winter, I'm going to +take up French. I'll send you word some afternoon when I have time +to play." + +"Thank you," Maida said in her most civil voice. "Come and play with +me sometime," she added after a pause. + +"Oh, my mother doesn't let me play in other children's houses," +Laura said airily. "Good-bye." + +"Good-bye," Maida answered. + +She waited until Laura had disappeared into the court. "Granny," she +called impetuously, "a little girl's been here who I think is the +hatefullest, horridest, disagreeablest thing I ever saw in my life." + +"Why, what did the choild do?" Granny asked in surprise. + +"Do?" Maida repeated. "She did everything. Why, she--she--" She +interrupted herself to think hard a moment. "Well, it's the queerest +thing. I can't tell you a thing she did, Granny, and yet, all the +time she was here I wanted to slap her." + +"There's manny folks that-a-way," said Granny. "The woisest way is +to take no notuce av ut." + +"Take no notice of it!" Maida stormed. "It's just like not taking +any notice of a bee when it's stinging you." + +Maida was so angry that she walked into the living-room without +limping. + +At four that afternoon, when the children came out of school, there +was another flurry of trade. Towards five, it slackened. Maida sat +in her swivel-chair and wistfully watched the scene in the court. +Little boys were playing top. Little girls were jumping rope. Once +she saw a little girl in a scarlet cape come out of one of the +yards. On one shoulder perched a fluffy kitten. Following her, +gamboled an Irish setter and a Skye terrier. Presently it grew dark +and the children began to go indoors. Maida lighted the gas and lost +herself in "Gulliver's Travels." + +The sound of voices attracted her attention after awhile. She turned +in her chair. Outside, staring into the window, stood a little boy +and girl--a ragged, dirty pair. Their noses pressed so hard against +the glass that they were flattened into round white circles. They +took no notice of Maida. Dropping her eyes to her book, she +pretended to read. + +"I boneys that red top, first," said the little boy in a piping +voice. + +He was a round, brown, pop-eyed, big-mouthed little creature. Maida +could not decide which he looked most like--a frog or a brownie. She +christened him "the Bogle" at once. + +"I boneys that little pink doll with the curly hair, first," said +the girl. + +She was a round, brown little creature, too--but pretty. She had +merry brown eyes and a merry little red and white smile. Maida +christened her "the Robin." + +"I boneys that big agate, second," said the Bogle. + +"I boneys that little table, second," said the Robin. + +"I boneys that knife, third," said the Bogle. + +"I boneys that little chair, third," said the Robin. + +Maida could not imagine what kind of game they were playing. She +went to the door. "Come in, children," she called. + +The children jumped and started to run away. But they stopped a +little way off, turned and stood as if they were not certain what to +do. Finally the Robin marched over to Maida's side and the Bogle +followed. + +"Tell me about the game you were playing," Maida said. "I never +heard of it before." + +"'Tain't any game," the Bogle said. + +"We were just boneying," the Robin explained. "Didn't you ever boney +anything?" + +"No." + +"Why, you boneys things in store windows," the Robin went on. "You +always boney with somebody else. You choose one thing for yours and +they choose something else for theirs until everything in the window +is all chosen up. But of course they don't really belong to you. You +only play they do." + +"I see," Maida said. + +She went to the window and took out the red top and the little pink +doll with curly hair. "Here, these are the things you boneyed first. +You may have them." + +"Oh, thank you--thank you--thank you," the Robin exclaimed. She kissed +the little pink doll ecstatically, stopping now and then to look +gratefully at Maida. + +"Thank you," the Bogle echoed. He did not look at Maida but he began +at once to wind his top. + +"What is your name?" Maida asked. + +"Molly Doyle," the Robin answered. "And this is my brother, Timmie +Doyle." + +"My name's Maida. Come and see me again, Molly, and you, too, +Timmie." + +"Of course I'll come," Molly answered, "and I'm going to name my +doll 'Maida.'" + +Molly ran all the way home, her doll tightly clutched to her breast. +But Timmie stopped to spin his top six times--Maida counted. + +No more customers came that evening. At six, Maida closed and locked +the shop. + +After dinner she thought she would read one of her new books. She +settled herself in her little easy chair by the fire and opened to a +story with a fascinating picture. But the moment her eyes fell on +the page--it was the strangest thing--a drowsiness, as deep as a +fairy's enchantment, fell upon her. She struggled with it for +awhile, but she could not throw it off. The next thing she knew, +Granny was helping her up the stairs, was undressing her, had laid +her in her bed. The next thing she was saying dreamily, "I made one +dollar and eighty-seven cents to-day. If my papa ever gets into any +more trouble in Wall Street, he can borrow from me." + +The next thing, she felt the pillow soft and cool under her cheek. +The next thing--bright sunlight was pouring through the window--it was +morning again. + + + + + + CHAPTER IV: THE SECOND DAY + + +It had rained all that night, but the second morning dawned the +twinklingest kind of day. It seemed to Maida that Mother Nature had +washed a million tiny, fleecy, white clouds and hung them out to dry +in the crisp blue air. Everything still dripped but the brilliant +sunshine put a sparkle on the whole world. Slates of old roofs +glistened, brasses of old doors glittered, silver of old name-plates +shone. Curbstones, sidewalks, doorsteps glimmered and gleamed. The +wet, ebony-black trunks of the maples smoked as if they were afire, +their thick-leaved, golden heads flared like burning torches. Maida +stood for a long time at the window listening to a parrot who called +at intervals from somewhere in the neighborhood. "Get up, you +sleepy-heads! Get up! Get up!" + +A huge puddle stretched across Primrose Court. When Maida took her +place in the swivel-chair, three children had begun already to float +shingles across its muddy expanse. Two of them were Molly and Tim +Doyle, the third a little girl whom Maida did not know. For a time +she watched them, fascinated. But, presently, the school children +crowding into the shop took all her attention. After the bell rang +and the neighborhood had become quiet again, she resumed her watch +of the mud-puddle fun. + +Now they were loading their shingles with leaves, twigs, pebbles, +anything that they could find in the gutters. By lashing the water +into waves, as they trotted in the wake of their frail craft, they +managed to sail them from one end of the puddle to the other. Maida +followed the progress of these merchant vessels as breathlessly as +their owners. Some capsized utterly. Others started to founder and +had to be dragged ashore. A few brought the cruise to a triumphant +finish. + +But Tim soon put an end to this fun. Unexpectedly, his foot caught +somewhere and he sprawled headlong in the tide. "Oh, Tim!" Molly +said. But she said it without surprise or anger. And Tim lay flat on +his stomach without moving, as if it were a common occurrence with +him. Molly waded out to him, picked him up and marched him into the +house. + +The other little girl had disappeared. Suddenly she came out of one +of the yards, clasping a Teddy-bear and a whole family of dolls in +her fat arms. She sat down at the puddle's edge and began to undress +them. Maida idly watched the busy little fingers--one, two, three, +four, five--now there were six shivering babies. What was she going +to do with them? Maida wondered. + +"Granny," Maida called, "do come and see this little girl! She's--" +But Maida did not finish that sentence in words. It ended in a +scream. For suddenly the little girl threw the Teddy-bear and all +the six dolls into the puddle. Maida ran out the door. Half-way +across the court she met Dicky Dore swinging through the water. +Between them they fished all the dolls out. One was of celluloid and +another of rubber--they had floated into the middle of the pond. Two +china babies had sunk to the very bottom--their white faces smiled +placidly up through the water at their rescuers. A little rag-doll +lay close to the shore, water-logged. A pretty paper-doll had melted +to a pulp. And the biggest and prettiest of them, a lovely blonde +creature with a shapely-jointed body and a bisque head, covered with +golden curls, looked hopelessly bedraggled. + +"Oh, Betsy Hale!" Dicky said. "You naughty, naughty girl! How could +you drown your own children like that?" + +"I were divin' them a baff," Betsy explained. + +Betsy was a little, round butterball of a girl with great brown eyes +all tangled up in eyelashes and a little pink rosebud of a mouth, +folded over two rows of mice-teeth. She smiled deliciously up into +Maida's face: + +"I aren't naughty, is I?" she asked. + +"Naughty? You bunny-duck! Of course you are," Maida said, giving her +a bear-hug. "I don't see how anybody can scold her," she whispered +to Dicky. + +"Scold her! You can't," Dicky said disgustedly. "She's too cute. And +then if you did scold her it wouldn't do any good. She's the +naughtiest baby in the neighborhood--although," he added with pride, +"I think Delia's going to be pretty nearly as naughty when she gets +big enough. But Betsy Hale--why, the whole street has to keep an eye +on her. Come, pick up your dollies, Betsy," he wheedled, "they'll +get cold if you leave them out here." + +The thought of danger to her darlings produced immediate activity on +Betsy's part. She gathered the dolls under her cape, hugging them +close. "Her must put her dollies to bed," she said wisely. + +"Calls herself _her_ half the time," Dicky explained. He gathered up +the dresses and shooing Betsy ahead of him, followed her into the +yard. + +"She's the greatest child I ever saw," he said, rejoining Maida a +little later. "The things she thinks of to do! Why, the other day, +Miss Allison--the sister of the blind lady what sits in the window +and knits--the one what owns the parrot--well, Miss Allison painted +one of her old chairs red and put it out in the yard to dry. Then +she washed a whole lot of lace and put that out to dry. Next thing +she knew she looked out and there was Betsy washing all the red +paint off the chair with the lace. You'd have thought that would +have been enough for one day, wouldn't you? Well, that afternoon she +turned the hose on Mr. Flanagan--that's the policeman on the beat." + +"What did he say?" Maida asked in alarm. She had a vague imaginary +picture of Betsy being dragged to the station-house. + +"Roared! But then Mr. Flanagan thinks Betsy's all right. Always +calls her 'sophy Sparkles.' Betsy runs away about twice a week. Mr. +Flanagan's always finding her and lugging her home. I guess every +policeman in Charlestown knows her by this time. There, look at her +now! Did you ever see such a kid?" + +Betsy had come out of the yard again. She was carrying a huge +feather duster over her head as if it were a parasol. + +"The darling!" Maida said joyously. "I hope she'll do something +naughty every day." + +"Queer how you love a naughty child," Dick said musingly. "They're +an awful lot of trouble but you can't help liking them. Has Tim +Doyle fallen into the puddle yet?" + +"Yes, just a little while ago." + +"He's always falling in mud puddles. I guess if Molly fishes him out +once after a rain, she does a half a dozen times." + +"Do come and see me, Dicky, won't you?" Maida asked when they got to +the shop door. "You know I shall be lonely when all the children are +in school and--then besides--you're the first friend I've made." + +At the word _friend_, Dicky's beautiful smile shone bright. "Sure, +I'll come," he said heartily. "I'll come often." + +"Granny," Maida exclaimed, bursting into the kitchen, "wait until +you hear about Betsy Hale." She told the whole story. "Was I ever a +naughty little girl?" she concluded. + +"Naughty? Glory be, and what's ailing you? 'Twas the best choild +this side of Heaven that you was. Always so sick and yet niver a +cross wurrud out of you." + +A shadow fell over Maida's face. "Oh, dear, dear," she grieved. "I +wish I had been a naughty child--people love naughty children so. Are +you quite sure I was always good, Granny?" + +"Why, me blessid lamb, 'twas too sick that you was to be naughty. +You cud hardly lift one little hand from the bed." + +"But, Granny, dear," Maida persisted, "can't you think of one +single, naughty thing I did? I'm sure you can if you try hard." + +Maida's face was touched with a kind of sad wistfulness. Granny +looked down at her, considerably puzzled. Then a light seemed to +break in her mind. It shone through her blue eyes and twinkled in +her smile. + +"Sure and Oi moind wance when Oi was joost afther giving you some +medicine and you was that mad for having to take the stuff that you +sat oop in bed and knocked iv'ry bottle off the table. Iv'ry wan! +Sure, we picked oop glass for a wake afther." + +Maida's wistful look vanished in a peal of silvery laughter. "Did I +really, Granny?" she asked in delight. "Did I break every bottle? +Are you sure? Every one?" + +"Iv'ry wan as sure as OI'm a living sinner," said Granny. "Faith and +'twas the bad little gyurl that you was often--now that I sthop to +t'ink av ut." + +Maida bounded back to the shop in high spirits. Granny heard her say +"Every bottle!" again and again in a whispering little voice. + +"Just think, Granny," she called after a while. "I've made one, two, +three, four, five friends--Dicky, Molly, Tim, Betsy and Laura--though +I don't call her quite a friend yet. Pretty good for so soon!" + +Maida was to make a sixth friend, although not quite so quickly. + +It began that noontime with a strange little scene that acted itself +out in front of Maida's window. The children had begun to gather for +school, although it was still very quiet. Suddenly around the corner +came a wild hullaballoo--the shouts of small boys, the yelp of a dog, +the rattle and clang of tin dragged on the brick sidewalk. In +another instant appeared a dog, a small, yellow cur, collarless and +forlorn-looking, with a string of tin cans tied to his tail, a horde +of small boys yelling after him and pelting him with stones. + +Maida started up, but before she could get to the door, something +flashed like a scarlet comet from across the street. It was the +little girl whom Maida had seen twice before--the one who always wore +the scarlet cape. + +Even in the excitement, Maida noticed how handsome she was. She +seemed proud. She carried her slender, erect little body as if she +were a princess and her big eyes cast flashing glances about her. +Jet-black were her eyes and hair, milk-white were her teeth but in +the olive of her cheeks flamed a red such as could be matched only +in the deepest roses. Maida christened her Rose-Red at once. + +Rose-Red lifted the little dog into her arms with a single swoop of +her strong arm. She yanked the cans from its tail with a single +indignant jerk. Fondling the trembling creature against her cheek, +she talked first to him, then to his abashed persecutors. + +"You sweet, little, darling puppy, you! Did they tie the wicked cans +to his poor little tail!" and then--"if ever I catch one of you boys +treating a poor, helpless animal like this again, I'll shake the +breath out of your body--was he the beautifullest dog that ever was? +And if that isn't enough, Arthur Duncan will lick you all, won't +you, Arthur?" She turned pleadingly to Arthur. + +Arthur nodded. + +"Nobody's going to hurt helpless creatures while I'm about! He was a +sweet little, precious little, pretty little puppy, so he was." + +Rose-Red marched into the court with the puppy, opened a gate and +dropped him inside. + +"That pup belongs to me, now," she said marching back. + +The school bell ringing at this moment ended the scene. + +"Who's that little girl who wears the scarlet cape?" Maida asked +Dorothy and Mabel Clark when they came in together at four. + +"Rosie Brine," they answered in chorus. + +"She's a dreffle naughty girl," Mabel said in a whisper, and "My +mommer won't let me play with her," Dorothy added. + +"Why not?" Maida asked. + +"She's a tom-boy," Mabel informed her. + +"What's a tom-boy?" Maida asked Billy that night at dinner. + +"A tom-boy?" Billy repeated. "Why, a tom-boy is a girl who acts like +a boy." + +"How can a girl be a boy?" Maida queried after a few moments of +thought. "Why don't they call her a tom-girl?" + +"Why, indeed?" Billy answered, taking up the dictionary. + +Certainly Rosie Brine acted like a boy--Maida proved that to herself +in the next few days when she watched Rose-Red again and again. But +if she were a tom-boy, she was also, Maida decided, the most +beautiful and the most wonderful little girl in the world. And, +indeed, Rosie was so full of energy that it seemed to spurt out in +the continual sparkle of her face and the continual movement of her +body. She never walked. She always crossed the street in a series of +flying jumps. She never went through a gate if she could go over the +fence, never climbed the fence if she could vault it. The scarlet +cape was always flashing up trees, over sheds, sometimes to the very +roofs of the houses. Her principal diversion seemed to be climbing +lamp-posts. Maida watched this proceeding with envy. One athletic +leap and Rose-Red was clasping the iron column half-way up--a few +more and she was swinging from the bars under the lantern. But she +was accomplished in other ways. She could spin tops, play "cat" and +"shinney" as well as any of the boys. And as for jumping rope--if two +little girls would swing for her, Rosie could actually waltz in the +rope. + +The strangest thing about Rosie was that she did not always go to +school like the other children. The incident of the dog happened on +Thursday. Friday morning, when the children filed into the +schoolhouse, Rosie did not follow them. Instead, she hid herself in +a doorway until after the bell rang. A little later she sneaked out +of her hiding place, joined Arthur Duncan at the corner, and +disappeared into the distance. Just before twelve they both came +back. For a few moments, they kept well concealed on a side street, +out of sight of Primrose Court. But, at intervals, Rosie or Arthur +would dart out to a spot where, without being seen, they could get a +glimpse of the church clock. When the children came out of school at +twelve, they joined the crowd and sauntered home. + +Monday morning Maida saw them repeat these maneuvers. She was +completely mystified by them and yet she had an uncomfortable +feeling. They were so stealthy that she could not help guessing that +something underhand was going on. + +"Do you know Rosie Brine?" Maida asked Dicky Dore one evening when +they were reading together. + +"Sure!" Dicky's face lighted up. "Isn't she a peach?" + +"They say she is a tom-boy," Maida objected. "Is she?" + +"Surest thing you know," Dicky said cheerfully. "She won't take a +dare. You ought to see her playing stumps. There's nothing a boy can +do that she won't do. And have you noticed how she can spin a +top--the best I ever saw for a girl." + +Then boys liked girls to be tom-boys. This was a great surprise. + +"How does it happen that she doesn't go to school often?" + +Dicky grinned. "Hooking jack!" + +"Hooking jack?" Maida repeated in a puzzled tone. + +"Hooking jack--playing hookey--playing truant." Dicky watched Maida's +face but her expression was still puzzled. "Pretending to go to +school and not going," he said at last. + +"Oh," Maida said. "I understand now." + +"She just hates school," Dicky went on. "They can't make her go. Old +Stoopendale, the truant officer, is always after her. Little she +cares for old Stoopy though. She gets fierce beatings for it at +home, too. Funny thing about Rosie--she won't tell a lie. And when +her mother asks her about it, she always tells the truth. Sometimes +her mother will go to the schoolhouse door with her every morning +and afternoon for a week. But the moment she stops, Rosie begins to +hook jack again." + +"Mercy me!" Maida said. In all her short life she had never heard +anything like this. She was convinced that Rosie Brine was a very +naughty little girl. And yet, underneath this conviction, burned an +ardent admiration for her. + +"She must be very brave," she said soberly. + +"Brave! Well, I guess you'd think so! Arthur Duncan says she's +braver than a lot of boys he knows. Arthur and she hook jack +together sometimes. And, oh cracky, don't they have the good times! +They go down to the Navy Yard and over to the Monument Grounds. +Sometimes they go over to Boston Common and the Public Garden. Once +they walked all the way to Franklin Park. And in the summer they +often walk down to Crescent Beach. They say when I get well, I can +go with them." + +Dicky spoke in the wistful tone with which he always related the +deeds of stronger children. Maida knew exactly how he felt--she had +been torn by the same hopes and despairs. + +"Oh, wouldn't it be grand to be able to do just anything?" she said. +"I'm just beginning to feel as if I could do some of the things I've +always wanted to do." + +"I'm going to do them all, sometime," Dicky prophesied. "Doc O'Brien +says so." + +"I think Rosie the beautifullest little girl," Maida said. "I wish +she'd come into the shop so that I could get acquainted with her." + +"Oh, she'll come in sometime. You see the W.M.N.T. is meeting now +and we're all pretty busy. She's the only girl in it." + +"The W.M.N.T.," Maida repeated. "What does that mean?" + +"I can't tell?" Dicky said regretfully. "It's the name of our club. +Rosie and Arthur and I are the only ones who belong." + +After that talk, Maida watched Rosie Brine closer than ever. If she +caught a glimpse of the scarlet cape in the distance, it was hard to +go on working. She noticed that Rosie seemed very fond of all +helpless things. She was always wheeling out the babies in the +neighborhood, always feeding the doves and carrying her kitten about +on her shoulder, always winning the hearts of other people's dogs +and then trying to induce them not to follow her. + +"It seems strange that she never comes into the shop," Maida said +mournfully to Dicky one day. + +"You see she never has any money to spend," Dicky explained. "That's +the way her mother punishes her. But sometimes she earns it on the +sly taking care of babies. She loves babies and babies always love +her. Delia'll go to her from my mother any time and as for Betsy +Hale--Rosie's the only one who can do anything with her." + +But a whole week passed. And then one day, to Maida's great delight, +the tinkle of the bell preceded the entrance of Rose-Red. + +"Let me look at your tops, please," Rosie said, marching to the +counter with the usual proud swing of her body. + +Seen closer, she was even prettier than at a distance. Her smooth +olive skin glistened like satin. Her lips showed roses even more +brilliant than those that bloomed in her cheeks. A frown between her +eyebrows gave her face almost a sullen look. But to offset this, her +white teeth turned her smile into a flash of light. Maida lifted all +the tops from the window and placed them on the counter. + +"Mind if I try them?" Rosie asked. + +"Oh, do." + +Rosie wound one of them with an expert hand. Then with a quick dash +forward of her whole arm, she threw the top to the floor. It danced +there, humming like a whole hiveful of bees. + +"Oh, how lovely!" Maida exclaimed. Then in fervent admiration: "What +a wonderful girl you are!" + +Rosie smiled. "Easy as pie if you know how. Want to learn?" + +"Oh, will you teach me?" + +"Sure! Begin now." + +Maida limped from behind the counter. Rosie watched her. Rosie's +face softened with the same pity that had shone on the frightened +little dog. + +"She's sorry for me," Maida thought. "How sweet she looks!" + +But Rosie said nothing about Maida's limp. She explained the process +of top-spinning from end to end, step by step, making Maida copy +everything that she did. At first Maida was too eager--her hands +actually trembled. But gradually she gained in confidence. At last +she succeeded in making one top spin feebly. + +"Now you've got the hang of it," Rosie encouraged her, "You'll soon +learn. All you want to do is to practice. I'll come to-morrow and +see how you're getting on." + +"Oh, do," Maida begged, "and come to see me in the evening sometime. +Come this evening if your mother'll let you." + +Rosie laughed scornfully. "I guess nobody's got anything to say +about _letting me_, if I make up my mind to come. Well, goodbye!" + +She whirled out of the shop and soon the scarlet cape was a +brilliant spot in the distance. + +But about seven that evening the bell rang. When Maida opened the +door there stood Rosie. + +"Oh, Rosie," Maida said joyfully, throwing her arms about her guest, +"how glad I am to see you!" She hurried her into the living-room +where Billy Potter was talking with Granny. "This is Rosie Brine, +Billy," she said, her voice full of pride in her new friend. "And +this is Billy Potter, Rosie." + +Billy shook hands gravely with the little girl. And Rosie looked at +him in open wonder. Maida knew exactly what she was thinking. Rosie +was trying to make up her mind whether he was a boy or a man. The +problem seemed to grow more perplexing as the evening went on. For +part of the time Billy played with them, sitting on the floor like a +boy, and part of the time he talked with Granny, sitting in a chair +like a man. + +Maida showed Rosie her books, her Venetian beads, all her cherished +possessions. Rosie liked the canaries better than anything. "Just +think of having six!" she said. Then, sitting upstairs in Maida's +bedroom, the two little girls had a long confidential talk. + +"I've been just crazy to know you, Maida," Rosie confessed. "But +there was no way of getting acquainted, for you always stayed in the +store. I had to wait until I could tease mother to buy me a top." + +"That's funny," Maida said, "for I was just wild to know you. I kept +hoping that you'd come in. I hope you'll come often, Rosie, for I +don't know any other little girl of my own age." + +"You know Laura Lathrop, don't you?" Rosie asked with a sideways +look. + +"Yes, but I don't like her." + +"Nobody likes her," Rosie said. "She's too much of a smarty-cat. She +loves to get people over there and then show off before them. And +then she puts on so many airs. I won't have anything to do with +her." + +From the open window came the shrill scream of Miss Allison's +parrot. "What do you think of that?" it called over and over again. + +"Isn't that a clever bird?" Rosie asked admiringly. "His name is +Tony. I have lots of fun with him. Did you ever see a parrot that +could talk, before?" + +"Oh, yes, we have several at Pride's." + +"Pride's?" + +"Pride's Crossing. That's where we go summers." + +"And what do your parrots say?" + +"One talked in French. He used to say 'Taisez-vous' so much that +sometimes we would have to put a cover over the cage to stop him." + +"And did you have other animals besides parrots?" Rosie asked. "I +love animals." + +"Oh, yes, we had horses and dogs and cats and rabbits and dancing +mice and marmosets and macaws and parokets and--I guess I've +forgotten some of them. But if you like animals, you ought to go to +our place in the Adirondacks--there are deer preserves there and +pheasants and peacocks." + +"Who do they belong to?" + +"My father." + +Rosie considered this. "Does he keep a bird-place?" she asked in a +puzzled tone. + +"No." Maida's tone was a little puzzled too. She did not know what a +bird-place was. + +"Well, did he sell them?" + +"I don't think he ever sold any. He gave a great many away, though." + +When Rosie went home, Maida walked as far as her gate with her. + +"Want to know a secret, Maida?" Rosie asked suddenly, her eyes +dancing with mischief. + +"Oh, yes. I love secrets." + +"Cross your throat then." + +Maida did not know how to cross her throat but Rosie taught her. + +"Well, then," Rosie whispered, "my mother doesn't know that I went +to your house. She sent me to bed for being naughty. And I got up +and dressed and climbed out my window on to the shed without anybody +knowing it. She'll never know the difference." + +"Oh, Rosie," Maida said in a horrified tone, "Please never do it +again." In spite of herself, Maida's eyes twinkled. + +But Rosie only laughed. Maida watched her steal into her yard, +watched her climb over the shed, watched her disappear through the +window. + +But she grieved over the matter as she walked home. Perhaps it was +because she was thinking so deeply that she did not notice how quiet +they all were in the living-room. But as she crossed the threshold, +a pair of arms seized her and swung her into the air. + +"Oh, papa, papa," she whispered, cuddling her face against his, "how +glad I am to see you." + +He marched with her over to the light. + +"Well, little shop-keeper," he said after a long pause in which he +studied her keenly, "you're beginning to look like a real live +girl." He dropped her gently to her feet. "Now show me your shop." + + + + + + CHAPTER V: PRIMROSE COURT + + +But during that first two weeks a continual rush of business made +long days for Maida. All the children in the neighborhood were +curious to see the place. It had been dark and dingy as long as they +could remember. Now it was always bright and pretty--always sweet +with the perfume of flowers, always gay with the music of birds. But +more, the children wanted to see the lame little girl who "tended +store," who seemed to try so hard to please her customers and who +was so affectionate and respectful with the old, old lady whom she +called "Granny." + +At noon and night the bell sounded a continuous tinkle. + +For a week Maida kept rather close to the shop. She wanted to get +acquainted with all her customers. Moreover, she wanted to find out +which of the things she had bought sold quickly and which were +unpopular. + +After a day or two her life fell into a regular programme. + +Early in the morning she would put the shop to rights for the day's +sale, dusting, replacing the things she had sold, rearranging them +often according to some pretty new scheme. + +About eight o'clock the bell would call her into the shop and it +would be brisk work until nine. Then would come a rest of three +hours, broken only by an occasional customer. In this interval she +often worked in the yard, raking up the leaves that fell from vine +and bush, picking the bravely-blooming dahlias, gathering sprays of +woodbine for the vases, scattering crumbs to the birds. + +At twelve the children would begin to flood the shop again and Maida +would be on her feet constantly until two. Between two and four came +another long rest. After school trade started up again. Often it +lasted until six, when she locked the door for the night. + +In her leisure moments she used to watch the people coming and going +in Primrose Court. With Rosie's and Dicky's help, she soon knew +everybody by name. She discovered by degrees that on the right side +of the court lived the Hales, the Clarks, the Doyles and the Dores; +on the left side, the Duncans, the Brines and the Allisons. In the +big house at the back lived the Lathrops. + +Betsy was a great delight to Maida, for the neighborhood brimmed +with stories of her mischief. She had buried her best doll in the +ash-barrel, thrown her mother's pocketbook down the cesspool, put +all the clean laundry into a tub of water and painted the parlor +fireplace with tomato catsup. In a single afternoon, having become +secretly possessed of a pair of scissors, she cut all the fringe off +the parlor furniture, cut great scallops in the parlor curtains, cut +great patches of fur off the cat's back. When her mother found her, +she was busy cutting her own hair. + +Often Granny would hear the door slam on Maida's hurried rush from +the shop. Hobbling to the window, she would see the child leading +Betsy by the hand. "Running away again," was all Maida would say. +Occasionally Maida would call in a vexed tone, "Now _how_ did she +creep past the window without my seeing her?" And outside would be +rosy-cheeked, brass-buttoned Mr. Flanagan, carrying Betsy home. Once +Billy arrived at the shop, bearing Betsy in his arms. "She was +almost to the bridge," he said, "when I caught sight of her from the +car window. The little tramp!" + +Betsy never seemed to mind being caught. For an instant the little +rosebud that was her mouth would part over the tiny pearls that were +her teeth. This roguish smile seemed to say: "You wait until the +next time. You won't catch me then." + +Sometimes Betsy would come into the shop for an hour's play. Maida +loved to have her there but it was like entertaining a whirlwind. +Betsy had a strong curiosity to see what the drawers and boxes +contained. Everything had to be put back in its place when she left. + +Next to the Hales lived the Clarks. By the end of the first week +Maida was the chief adoration of the Clark twins. Dorothy and Mabel +were just as good as Betsy was naughty. When they came over to see +Maida, they played quietly with whatever she chose to give them. It +was an hour, ordinarily, before they could be made to talk above a +whisper. If they saw Maida coming into the court, they would run to +her side, slipping a hot little hand into each of hers. Attended +always by this roly-poly bodyguard, Maida would limp from group to +group of the playing children. Nobody in Primrose Court could tell +the Clark twins apart. Maida soon learned the difference although +she could never explain it to anybody else. "It's something you have +to feel," she said. + +Billy Potter enjoyed the twins as much as Maida did. "Good morning, +Dorothy-Mabel," he always said when he met one of them; "is this you +or your sister?" And he always answered their whispered remarks with +whispers so much softer than theirs that he finally succeeded in +forcing them to raise their shy little voices. + +The Doyles and the Dores lived in one house next to the Clarks, +Molly and Tim on the first floor, Dicky and Delia above. Maida +became very fond of the Doyle children. Like Betsy, they were too +young to go to school and she saw a good deal of them in the lonely +school hours. The puddle was an endless source of amusement to them. +As long as it remained, they entertained themselves playing along +its shores. + +"There's that choild in the water again," Granny would cry from the +living-room. + +Looking out, Maida would see Tim spread out on all fours. Like an +obstinate little pig, he would lie still until Molly picked him up. +She would take him home and in a few moments he would reappear in +fresh, clean clothes again. + +"Hello, Tim," Billy Potter would say whenever they met. "Fallen into +a pud-muddle lately?" + +The word _pud-muddle_ always sent Tim off into peals of laughter. It +was the only thing Maida had discovered that could make him laugh, +for he was as serious as Molly was merry. Molly certainly was the +jolliest little girl in the court--Maida had never seen her with +anything but a smiling face. + +Dicky's mother went to work so early and came back so late that +Maida had never seen her. But Dicky soon became an intimate. Maida +had begun the reading lessons and Dicky was so eager to get on that +they were progressing famously. + +The Lathrops lived in the big house at the back of the court. Granny +learned from the Misses Allison that, formerly, the whole +neighborhood had belonged to the Lathrop family. But they had sold +all their land, piece by piece, except the one big lot on which the +house stood. Perhaps it was because they had once been so important +that Mrs. Lathrop seemed to feel herself a little better than the +rest of the people in Primrose Court. At any rate, although she +spoke with all, the Misses Allison were the only ones on whom she +condescended to call. Maida caught a glimpse of her occasionally on +the piazza--a tall, thin woman, white-haired and sharp-featured, who +always wore a worsted shawl. + +The house was a big, bulky building, a mass of piazzas and +bay-windows, with a hexagonal cupola on the top. It was painted white +with green blinds and trimmed with a great deal of wooden lace. The +wide lawn was well-kept and plots of flowers, here and there, gave +it a gay air. + +Laura had a brother named Harold, who was short and fat. Harold +seemed to do nothing all day long but ride a wheel at a tearing pace +over the asphalt paths, and regularly, for two hours every morning, +to draw a shrieking bow across a tortured violin. + +The more Maida watched Laura the less she liked her. She could see +that what Rosie said was perfectly true--Laura put on airs. Every +afternoon Laura played on the lawn. Her appearance was the signal +for all the small fry of the neighborhood to gather about the gate. +First would come the Doyles, then Betsy, then, one by one, the +strange children who wandered into the court, until there would be a +row of wistful little faces stuck between the bars of the fence. +They would follow every move that Laura made as she played with the +toys spread in profusion upon the grass. + +Laura often pretended not to see them. She would lift her large +family of dolls, one after another, from cradle to bed and from bed +to tiny chair and sofa. She would parade up and down the walk, using +first one doll-carriage, then the other. She would even play a game +of croquet against herself. Occasionally she would call in a +condescending tone, "You may come in for awhile if you wish, little +children." And when the delighted little throng had scampered to her +side, she would show them all her toy treasures on condition that +they did not touch them. + +When the proceedings reached this stage, Maida would be so angry +that she could look no longer. Very often, after Laura had sent the +children away, Maida would call them into the shop. She would let +them play all the rest of the afternoon with anything her stock +afforded. + +On the right side of the court lived Arthur Duncan, the Misses +Allison and Rosie Brine. The more Maida saw of Arthur, the more she +disliked him. In fact, she hated to have him come into the shop. It +seemed to her that he went out of his way to be impolite to her, +that he looked at her with a decided expression of contempt in his +big dark eyes. But Rosie and Dicky seemed very fond of him. Billy +Potter had once told her that one good way of judging people was by +the friends they made. If that were true, she had to acknowledge +that there must be something fine about Arthur that she had not +discovered. + +Maida guessed that the W.M.N.T.'s met three or four times a week. +Certainly there were very busy doings at Dicky's or at Arthur's +house every other day. What it was all about, Maida did not know. +But she fancied that it had much to do with Dicky's frequent +purchases of colored tissue paper. + +The Misses Allison had become great friends with Granny. Matilda, +the blind sister, was very slender and sweet-faced. She sat all day +in the window, crocheting the beautiful, fleecy shawls by which she +helped support the household. + +Jemima, the older, short, fat and with snapping black eyes, did the +housework, attended to the parrot and waited by inches on her +afflicted sister. Occasionally in the evening they would come to +call on Granny. Billy Potter was very nice to them both. He was +always telling the sisters the long amusing stories of his +adventures. Miss Matilda's gentle face used positively to beam at +these times, and Miss Jemima laughed so hard that, according to her +own story, his talk put her "in stitches." + +Maida did not see Rosie's mother often. To tell the truth, she was a +little afraid of her. She was a tall, handsome, black-browed woman--a +grown-up Rosie--with an appearance of great strength and of even +greater temper. "Ah, that choild's the limb," Granny would say, when +Maida brought her some new tale of Rosie's disobedience. And yet, in +the curious way in which Maida divined things that were not told +her, she knew that, next to Dicky, Rosie was Granny's favorite of +all the children in the neighborhood. + +With all these little people to act upon its stage, it is not +surprising that Primrose Court seemed to Maida to be a little +theater of fun--a stage to which her window was the royal box. +Something was going on there from morning to night. Here would be a +little group of little girls playing "house" with numerous families +of dolls. There, it would be boys, gathered in an excited ring, +playing marbles or top. Just before school, games like leap-frog, or +tag or prisoners' base would prevail. But, later, when there was +more time, hoist-the-sail would fill the air with its strange cries, +or hide-and-seek would make the place boil with excitement. Maida +used to watch these games wistfully, for Granny had decided that +they were all too rough for her. She would not even let Maida play +"London-Bridge-is-falling-down" or "drop the handkerchief"--anything, +in fact, in which she would have to run or pull. + +But Granny had no objections to the gentler fun of "Miss +Jennie-I-Jones," "ring-a-ring-a-rounder," "water, water wildflower," +"the farmer in the dell," "go in and out the windows." Maida used to +try to pick out the airs of these games on the spinet--she never could +decide which was the sweetest. + +Maida soon learned how to play jackstones and, at the end of the +second week, she was almost as proficient as Rosie with the top. The +thing she most wanted to learn, however, was jump-rope. Every little +girl in Primrose Court could jump-rope--even the twins, who were +especially nimble at "pepper." Maida tried it one night--all alone in +the shop. But suddenly her weak leg gave way under her and she fell +to the floor. Granny, rushing in from the other room, scolded her +violently. She ended by forbidding her to jump again without special +permission. But Maida made up her mind that she was going to learn +sometime, even, as she said with a roguish smile, "if it took a +leg." She talked it over with Rosie. + +"You let her jump just one jump every morning and night, Granny," +Rosie advised, "and I'm sure it will be all right. That won't hurt +her any and, after awhile, she'll find she can jump two, then three +and so on. That's the way I learned." + +Granny agreed to this. Maida practiced constantly, one jump in her +nightgown, just before going to bed, and another, all dressed, just +after she got up. + +"I jumped three jumps this morning without failing, Granny," she +said one morning at breakfast. Within a few days the record climbed +to five, then to seven, then, at a leap, to ten. + +Dr. Pierce called early one morning. His eyes opened wide when they +fell upon her. "Well, well, Pinkwink," he said. "What do you mean by +bringing me way over here! I thought you were supposed to be a sick +young person. Where'd you get that color?" + +A flush like that of a pink sweet-pea blossom had begun to show in +Maida's cheek. It was faint but it was permanent. + +"Why, you're the worst fraud on my list. If you keep on like this, +young woman, I shan't have any excuse for calling. You've done fine, +Granny." + +Granny looked, as Dr. Pierce afterwards said, "as tickled as Punch." + +"How do you like shop-keeping?" Dr. Pierce went on. + +"Like it!" Maida plunged into praise so swift and enthusiastic that +Dr. Pierce told her to go more slowly or he would put a bit in her +mouth. But he listened attentively. "Well, I see you're not tired of +it," he commented. + +"Tired!" Maida's indignation was so intense that Dr. Pierce shook +until every curl bobbed. + +"And I get so hungry," she went on. "You see I have to wait until +two o'clock sometimes before I can get my lunch, because from twelve +to two are my busy hours. Those days it seems as if the school bell +would never ring." + +"Sure, tis a foine little pig OI'm growing now," Granny said. + +"And as for sleeping--" Maida stopped as if there were no words +anywhere to describe her condition. + +Granny finished it for her. "The choild sleeps like a top." + +Billy Potter came at least every day and sometimes oftener. Every +child in Primrose Court knew him by the end of the first week and +every child loved him by the end of the second. And they all called +him Billy. He would not let them call him Mr. Potter or even Uncle +Billy because, he said, he was a child when he was with them and he +wanted to be treated like a child. He played all their games with a +skill that they thought no mere grown-up could possess. Like Rosie, +he seemed to be bubbling over with life and spirits. He was always +running, leaping, jumping, climbing, turning cartwheels and +somersaults, vaulting fences and "chinning" himself unexpectedly +whenever he came to a doorway. + +"Oh, Masther Billy, 'tis the choild that you are!" Granny would say, +twinkling. + +"Yes, ma'am," Billy would answer. + +At the end of the first fortnight, the neighborhood had accepted +Granny and Maida as the mother-in-law and daughter of a "traveling +man." From the beginning Granny had seemed one of them, but Maida +was a puzzle. The children could not understand how a little girl +could be grown-up and babyish at the same time. And if you stop to +think it over, perhaps you can understand how they felt. + +Here was a child who had never played, +"London-Bridge-is-falling-down" or jackstones or jump-rope or +hop-scotch. Yet she talked familiarly of automobiles, yachts and horses. +She knew nothing about geography and yet, her conversation was full of +such phrases as "The spring we were in Paris" or "The winter we spent +in Rome." She knew nothing about nouns and verbs but she talked Italian +fluently with the hand-organ man who came every week and many of her books +were in French. She knew nothing about fractions or decimals, yet she +referred familiarly to "drawing checks," to gold eagles and to Wall +Street. Her writing was so bad that the children made fun of it, yet +she could spin off a letter of eight pages in a flash. And she told +the most wonderful fairy-tales that had ever been heard in Primrose +Court. + +Because of all these things the children had a kind of contempt for +her mingled with a curious awe. + +She was so polite with grown people that it was fairly embarrassing. +She always arose from her chair when they entered the room, always +picked up the things they dropped and never interrupted. And yet she +could carry on a long conversation with them. She never said, "Yes, +ma'am," or "No, ma'am." Instead, she said, "Yes, Mrs. Brine," or +"No, Miss Allison," and she looked whomever she was talking with +straight in the eye. + +She would play with the little children as willingly as with the +bigger ones. Often when the older girls and boys were in school, she +would bring out a lapful of toys and spend the whole morning with +the little ones. When Granny called her, she would give all the toys +away, dividing them with a careful justice. And, yet, whenever +children bought things of her in the shop, she always expected them +to pay the whole price. You can see how the neighborhood would +fairly buzz with talk about her. + +As for Maida--with all this newness of friend-making and out-of-doors +games, it is not to be wondered that her head was a jumble at the +end of each day. In that delicious, dozy interval before she fell +asleep at night, all kinds of pretty pictures seemed to paint +themselves on her eyelids. + +Now it was Rose-Red swaying like a great overgrown scarlet flower +from the bars of a lamp-post. Now it was Dicky hoisting himself +along on his crutches, his face alight with his radiant smile. Now +it was a line of laughing, rosy-cheeked children, as long as the +tail of a kite, pelting to goal at the magic cry "Liberty poles are +bending!" Or it was a group of little girls, setting out rows and +rows of bright-colored paper-dolls among the shadows of one of the +deep old doorways. But always in a few moments came the sweetest +kind of sleep. And always through her dreams flowed the plaintive +music of "Go in and out the windows." Often she seemed to wake in +the morning to the Clarion cry, "Hoist the sail!" + +It did not seem to Maida that the days were long enough to do all +the things she wanted to do. + + + + + + CHAPTER VI: TWO CALLS + + +One morning, Laura Lathrop came bustling importantly into the shop. +"Good morning, Maida," she said; "you may come over to my house this +afternoon and play with me if you'd like." + +"Thank you, Laura," Maida answered. To anybody else, she would have +added, "I shall be delighted to come." But to Laura, she only said, +"It is kind of you to ask me." + +"From about two until four," Laura went on in her most superior +tone. "I suppose you can't get off for much longer than that." + +"Granny is always willing to wait on customers if I want to play," +Maida explained, "but I think she would not want me to stay longer +than that, anyway." + +"Very well, then. Shall we say at two?" Laura said this with a very +grown-up air. Maida knew that she was imitating her mother. + +Laura had scarcely left when Dicky appeared, swinging between his +crutches. "Maida," he said, "I want you to come over to-morrow +afternoon and see my place. You've not seen Delia yet and there's a +whole lot of things I want to show you. I'm going to clean house +to-day so's I'll be all ready for you to-morrow." + +"Oh, thank you," Maida said. The sparkle that always meant delight +came into her face. "I shall be delighted. I've always wanted to go +over and see you ever since I first knew you. But Granny said to +wait until you invited me. And I really have never seen Delia except +when Rosie's had her in the carriage. And then she's always been +asleep." + +"You have to see Delia in the house to know what a naughty baby she +is," Dicky said. He spoke as if that were the finest tribute that he +could pay his little sister. + +"Granny," Maida said that noon at lunch, "Laura Lathrop came here +and invited me to come to see her this afternoon and I just hate the +thought of going--I don't know why. Then Dicky came and invited me to +come and see him to-morrow afternoon and I just love the thought of +going. Isn't it strange?" + +"Very," Granny said, smiling. "But you be sure to be a noice choild +this afternoon, no matter what that wan says to you." + +Granny always referred to Laura as "that wan." + +"Oh, yes, I'll be good, Granny. Isn't it funny," Maida went on. The +tone of her voice showed that she was thinking hard. "Laura makes me +mad--oh, just hopping mad,"--"hopping mad" was one of Rosie's +expressions--"and yet it seems to me I'd die before I'd let her know +it." + +Laura was waiting for her on the piazza when Maida presented herself +at the Lathrop door. "Won't you come in and take your things off, +first?" she said. "I thought we'd play in the house for awhile." + +She took Maida immediately upstairs to her bedroom--a large room all +furnished in blue--blue paper, blue bureau scarf covered with lace, +blue bed-spread covered with lace, a big, round, blue roller where +the pillows should be. + +"How do you like my room, Maida?" + +"It's very pretty." + +"This is my toilet-set." Laura pointed to the glittering articles on +the bureau. "Papa's given them to me, one piece at a time. It's all +of silver and every thing has my initials on it. What is your set +of?" + +Laura paused before she asked this last question and darted one of +her sideways looks at Maida. "She thinks I haven't any toilet-set +and she wants to make me say so," Maida thought. "Ivory," she said +aloud. + +"Ivory! I shouldn't think that would be very pretty." + +Laura opened her bureau drawers, one at a time, and showed Maida the +pretty clothes packed in neat piles there. She opened the large +closet and displayed elaborately-made frocks, suspended on hangers. +And all the time, with little sharp, sideways glances, she was +studying the effect on Maida. But Maida's face betrayed none of the +wonder and envy that Laura evidently expected. Maida was very polite +but it was evident that she was not much interested. + +Next they went upstairs to a big playroom which covered the whole +top of the house. Shelves covered with books and toys lined the +walls. A fire, burning in the big fireplace, made it very cheerful. + +"Oh, what a darling doll-house," Maida exclaimed, pausing before the +miniature mansion, very elegantly furnished. + +"Oh, do you like it?" Laura beamed with pride. + +"I just love it! Particularly because it's so little." + +"Little!" Laura bristled. "I don't think it's so very little. It's +the biggest doll-house I ever saw. Did you ever see a bigger one?" + +Maida looked embarrassed. "Only one." + +"Whose was it?" + +"It was the one my father had built for me at Pride's. It was too +big to be a doll's house. It was really a small cottage. There were +four rooms--two upstairs and two downstairs and a staircase that you +could really walk up. But I don't like it half so well as this one," +Maida went on truthfully. "I think it's very queer but, somehow, the +smaller things are the better I like them. I guess it's because I've +seen so many big things." + +Laura looked impressed and puzzled at the same time. "And you really +could walk up the stairs? Let's go up in the cupola," she suggested, +after an uncertain interval in which she seemed to think of nothing +else to show. + +The stairs at the end of the playroom led into the cupola. Maida +exclaimed with delight over the view which she saw from the windows. +On one side was the river with the draw-bridge, the Navy Yard and +the monument on Bunker Hill. On the other stretched the smoky +expanse of Boston with the golden dome of the state house gleaming +in the midst of a huge, red-brick huddle. + +"Did you have a cupola at Pride's Crossing?" Laura asked +triumphantly. + +"Oh, no--how I wish I had!" + +Laura beamed again. + +"Laura likes to have things other people haven't," Maida thought. + +Her hostess now conducted her back over the two flights of stairs to +the lower floor. They went into the dining-room, which was all +shining oak and glittering cut-glass; into the parlor, which was +filled with gold furniture, puffily upholstered in blue brocade; +into the libraries, which Maida liked best of all, because there +were so many books and-- + +"Oh, oh, oh!" she exclaimed, stopping before one of the pictures; +"that's Santa Maria in Cosmedin. I haven't seen that since I left +Rome." + +"How long did you stay in Rome, little girl?" a voice asked back of +her. Maida turned. Mrs. Lathrop had come into the room. + +Maida arose immediately from her chair. "We stayed in Rome two +months," she said. + +"Indeed. And where else did you go?" + +"London, Paris, Florence and Venice." + +"Do you know these other pictures?" Mrs. Lathrop asked. "I've been +collecting photographs of Italian churches." + +Maida went about identifying the places with little cries of joy. +"Ara Coeli--I saw in there the little wooden bambino who cures sick +people. It's so covered with bracelets and rings and lockets and +pins and chains that grateful people have given it that it looks as +if it were dressed in jewels. The bambino's such a darling little +thing with such a sweet look in its face. That's St. Agnes outside +the wall--I saw two dear little baby lambs blessed on the altar there +on St. Agnes's day. One was all covered with red garlands and the +other with green. Oh, they were such sweethearts! They were going to +use the fleece to make some garment for the pope. That's Santa Maria +della Salute--they call it Santa Maria della _Volute_ instead of +_Salute_ because it's all covered with volutes." Maida smiled +sunnily into Mrs. Lathrop's face as if expecting sympathy with this +architectural joke. + +But Mrs. Lathrop did not smile. She looked a little staggered. She +studied Maida for a long time out of her shrewd, light eyes. + +"Whose family did you travel with?" she asked at last. + +Maida felt a little embarrassed. If Mrs. Lathrop asked her certain +questions, it would place her in a very uncomfortable position. On +the one hand, Maida could not tell a lie. On the other, her father +had told her to tell nobody that she was his daughter. + +"The family of Mr. Jerome Westabrook," she said at last. + +"Oh!" It was the "oh" of a person who is much impressed. "'Buffalo' +Westabrook?" Mrs. Lathrop asked. + +"Yes." + +"Did your grandmother, Mrs. Flynn, go with you?" + +"Yes." + +Mrs. Lathrop continued to look very hard at Maida. Her eyes wandered +over the little blue frock--simple but of the best materials--over the +white "tire" of a delicate plaided nainsook, trimmed with +Valenciennes lace, the string of blue Venetian beads, the soft, +carefully-fitted shoes. + +"Mr. Westabrook has a little girl, hasn't he?" Mrs. Lathrop said. + +Maida felt extremely uncomfortable now. But she looked Mrs. Lathrop +straight in the eye. "Yes," she answered. + +"About your age?" + +"Yes." + +"She is an invalid, isn't she?" + +"She _was_," Maida said with emphasis. + +Mrs. Lathrop did not ask any more questions. She went presently into +the back library. An old gentleman sat there, reading. + +"That little girl who keeps the store at the corner is in there, +playing with Laura, father," she said. "I guess her grandmother was +a servant in 'Buffalo' Westabrook's family, for they traveled abroad +a year with the Westabrook family. Evidently, they give her all the +little Westabrook girl's clothes--she's dressed quite out of keeping +with her station in life. Curious how refinement rubs off--the child +has really a good deal of manner. I don't know that I quite like to +have Laura playing with her, though." + +The two little girls returned after awhile to the playroom. + +"How would you like to have me dance for you?" Laura asked abruptly. +"You know I take fancy dancing." + +"Oh, Laura," Maida said delightedly "will you?" + +"Of course I will," Laura said with her most beaming expression. +"You wait here while I go downstairs and get into my costume. Watch +that door, for I shall make my entrance there." + +Maida waited what seemed a long time to her. Then suddenly Laura +came whirling into the room. She had put on a little frock of +pale-blue liberty silk that lay, skirt, bodice and tiny sleeves, in +many little pleats--"accordion-pleated," Laura afterwards described it. +Laura's neck and arms were bare. She wore blue silk stockings and +little blue-kid slippers, heelless and tied across the ankles with +ribbons. Her hair hung in a crimpy torrent to below her waist. + +"Oh, Laura, how lovely you do look!" Maida said, "I think you're +perfectly beautiful!" + +Laura smiled. Lifting both arms above her head, she floated about +the room, dancing on the very tips of her toes. Turning and smiling +over her shoulder, she bent and swayed and attitudinized. Maida +could have watched her forever. + +In a few moments she disappeared again. This time she came back in a +red-silk frock with a little bolero jacket of black velvet, hung +with many tinkling coins. Whenever her fingers moved, a little +pretty clapping sound came from them--Maida discovered that she +carried tiny wooden clappers. Whenever her heels came together, a +pretty musical clink came from them--Maida discovered that on her +shoes were tiny metal plates. + +Once again Laura went out. This time, she returned dressed like a +little sailor boy. She danced a gay little hornpipe. + +"I never saw anything so marvelous in my life," Maida said, her eyes +shining with enjoyment. "Oh, Laura how I wish I could dance like +that. How did you ever learn? Do you practice all the time?" + +"Oh, it's not so very hard--for me," Laura returned. "Of course, +everybody couldn't learn. And I suppose you, being lame, could never +do anything at all." + +This was the first allusion that had been made in Primrose Court to +Maida's lameness. Her face shadowed a little. "No, I'm afraid I +couldn't," she said regretfully. "But--oh--think what a lovely dancer +Rosie would make." + +"I'm afraid Rosie's too rough," Laura said. She unfolded a little +fan and began fanning herself languidly. "It's a great bother +sometimes," she went on in a bored tone of voice. "Everybody is +always asking me to dance at their parties. I danced at a beautiful +May party last year. Did you ever see a May-pole?" + +"Oh, yes," Maida said. "My birthday comes on May Day and last year +father gave me a party. He had a May-pole set up on the lawn and all +the children danced about it." + +"My birthday comes in the summer, too. I always have a party on our +place in Marblehead," Laura said. "I had fifty children at my party +last year. How many did you have?" + +"We sent out over five hundred invitations, I believe. But not quite +four hundred accepted." + +"Four hundred," Laura repeated. "Goodness, what could so many +children do?" + +"Oh, there were all sorts of things for them to do," Maida answered. +"There was archery and diabolo and croquet and fishing-ponds and a +merry-go-round and Punch and Judy on the lawn and a play in my +little theater--I can't remember everything." + +Laura's eyes had grown very big. "Didn't you have a perfectly +splendiferous time?" she asked. + +"No, not particularly," Maida said. "Not half such a good time as +I've had playing in Primrose Court. I wasn't very well and then, +somehow, I didn't care for those children the way I care for Dicky +and Rosie and the court children." + +"Goodness!" was all Laura could say for a moment. But finally she +added, "I don't believe that, Maida!" + +Maida stared at her and started to speak. "Oh, there's the clock +striking four?" was all she said though. "I must go. Thank you for +dancing for me." + +She flew into her coat and hat. She could not seem to get away quick +enough. Nobody had ever doubted her word before. She could not +exactly explain it to herself but she felt if she talked with Laura +another moment, she would fly out of her skin. + + ---------------------- + +"Mother," Laura said, after Maida had gone, "Maida Flynn told me +that her father gave her a birthday party last year and invited five +hundred children to it and they had a theater and a Punch and Judy +show and all sorts of things. Do you think it's true?" + +Mrs. Lathrop set her lips firmly. "No, I think it is probably not +true. I think you'd better not play with the little Flynn girl any +more." + + ---------------------- + +The next afternoon, Maida went, as she had promised, to see Dicky. + +She could see at a glance that Mrs. Dore was having a hard struggle +to support her little family. In the size and comfort of its +furnishings, the place was the exact opposite of the Lathrop home. +But, somehow, there was a wonderful feeling of home there. + +"Dicky, how do you manage to keep so clean here?" Maida asked in +genuine wonder. + +And indeed, hard work showed everywhere. The oilcloth shone like +glass. The stove was as clean as a newly-polished shoe. The rows of +pans on the wall fairly twinkled. Delicious smells were filling the +air. Maida guessed that Dicky was making one of the Irish stews that +were his specialty. + +"See that little truck over there?" Dicky said. "That helps a lot. +Arthur Duncan made that for me. You see we have to keep our coal in +that closet, way across the room. I used to get awful tired filling +the coal-hod and lugging it over to the stove. But now you see I +fill that truck at the closet, wheel it over to the stove and I +don't have to think of coal for three days." + +"Arthur must be a very clever boy," Maida said thoughtfully. + +"You bet he is. See that tin can in the sink? Well, I wanted a +soap-shaker but couldn't afford to get one. Arthur took that can and +punched the bottom full of holes. I keep it filled up with all the +odds and ends of soap. When I wash the dishes, I just let the +boiling water from the kettle flow through it. It makes water grand +and soapy. Arthur made me that iron dish-rag and that dish-mop." + +A sleepy cry came from the corner. Dicky swung across the room. +Balancing himself against the cradle there, he lifted the baby to +the floor. "She can't walk yet but you watch her go," he said +proudly. + +Go! The baby crept across the room so fast that Maida had to run to +keep up with her. "Oh, the love!" she said, taking Delia into her +arms. "Think of having a whole baby to yourself." + +"Can't leave a thing round where she is," Dicky said proudly, as if +this were the best thing he could say about her. "Have to put _my_ +work away the moment she wakes up. Isn't she a buster, though?" + +"I should say she was!" And indeed, the baby was as fat as a little +partridge. Maida wondered how Dicky could lift her. Also Delia was +as healthy-looking as Dicky was sickly. Her cheeks showed a pink +that was almost purple and her head looked like a mop, so thickly +was it overgrown with tangled, red-gold curls. + +"Is she named after your mother?" Maida asked. + +"No--after my grandmother in Ireland. But of course we don't call her +anything but 'baby' yet. My, but she's a case! If I didn't watch her +all the time, every pan in this room would be on the floor in a +jiffy. And she tears everything she puts her hands on." + +"Granny must see her sometime--Granny's name is Delia." + +"Hi, stop that!" Dicky called. For Delia had discovered the little +bundle that Maida had placed on a chair, and was busy trying to tear +it open. + +"Let her open it," Maida said, "I brought it for her." + +They watched. + +It took a long time, but Delia sat down, giving her whole attention +to it. Finally her busy fingers pulled off so much paper that a pair +of tiny rubber dolls dropped into her lap. + +"Say 'Thank you, Maida,'" Dicky prompted. + +Delia said something and Dicky assured her that the baby had obeyed +him. It sounded like, "Sank-oo-Maysa." + +While Delia occupied herself with the dolls, Maida listened to +Dicky's reading lesson. He was getting on beautifully now. At least +he could puzzle out by himself some of the stories that Maida lent +him. When they had finished that day's fairy-tale, Dicky said: + +"Did you ever see a peacock, Maida?" + +"Oh, yes--a great many." + +"Where?" + +"I saw ever so many in the Jardin des Plantes in Paris and then my +father has some in his camp in the Adirondacks." + +"Has he many?" + +"A dozen." + +"I'm just wild to see one. Are they as beautiful as that picture in +the fairy-tale?" + +"They're as beautiful as--as--" Maida groped about in her mind to find +something to compare them to "--as angels," she said at last. + +"And do they really open their tails like a fan?" + +"That is the most wonderful sight, Dicky, that you ever saw." +Maida's manner was almost solemn. "When they unfurl the whole fan +and the sun shines on all the green and blue eyes and on all the +little gold feathers, it's so beautiful. Well, it makes you ache. I +_cried_ the first time I saw one. And when their fans are down, they +carry them so daintily, straight out, not a single feather trailing +on the ground. There are two white peacocks on the Adirondacks +place." + +"_White_ peacocks! I never heard of white ones." + +"They're not common." + +"Think of seeing a dozen peacocks every day!" Dicky exclaimed. +"Jiminy crickets! Why, Maida, your life must have been just like a +fairy-tale when you lived there." + +"It seems more like a fairy-tale here." + +They laughed at this difference of opinion. + +"Dicky," Maida asked suddenly, "do you know that Rosie steals out of +her window at night sometimes when her mother doesn't know it?" + +"Sure--I know that. You see," he went on to explain, "it's like this. +Rosie is an awful bad girl in some ways--there's no doubt about that. +But my mother says Rosie isn't as bad as she seems. My mother says +Rosie's mother has never learned how to manage her. She whips Rosie +an awful lot. And the more she whips Rosie, the naughtier she gets. +Rosie says she's going to run away some day, and by George, I bet +she'll do it. She always does what she says she'll do." + +"Isn't it dreadful?" Maida said in a frightened tone. "Run away! I +never heard of such a thing. Think of having a mother and then not +getting along with her. Suppose she died sometime, as my mother +did." + +"I don't know what I'd do without my mother," Dicky said +thoughtfully. "But then I've got the best mother that ever was. I +wish she didn't have to work so hard. But you wait until I get on my +feet. Then you'll see how I'm going to earn money for her." + +When Maida got home that night, Billy Potter sat with Granny in the +living-room. Maida came in so quietly that they took no notice of +her. Granny was talking. Maida could see that the tears were +coursing down the wrinkles in her cheeks. + +"And after that, the poor choild ran away to America and I niver +have seen her since. Her father died repenting av his anger aginst +her. But ut was too late. At last, in me old age, Oi came over to +America, hoping Oi cud foind her. But, glory be, Oi had no idea +'twas such a big place! And Oi've hunted and Oi've hunted and Oi've +hunted. But niver a track of her cud Oi foind--me little Annie!" + +Billy's face was all screwed up, but it was not with laughter. "Did +you ever speak to Mr. Westabrook about it?" + +"Oh, Misther Westabruk done iv'ry t'ing he cud--the foine man that he +is. Adver_tise_ments and _de_tayktives, but wid all his money, he +cudn't foind out a t'ing. If ut wasn't for my blissed lamb, I'd pray +to the saints to let me die." + +Maida knew what they were talking about--Granny had often told her +the sad story of her lost daughter. + +"What town in Ireland did you live in, Granny?" Billy asked. + +"Aldigarey, County Sligo." "Now don't you get discouraged, Granny," +Billy said, "I'm going to find your daughter for you." + +He jumped to his feet and walked about the room. "I'm something of a +detective myself, and you'll see I'll make good on this job if it +takes twenty years." + +"Oh, Billy, do--please do," Maida burst in. "It will make Granny so +happy." + +Granny seemed happier already. She dried her tears. + +"'Tis the good b'y ye are, Misther Billy," she said gratefully. + +"Yes, m'm," said Billy. + + + + + + CHAPTER VII: TROUBLE + + +The next week was a week of trouble for Maida. Everything seemed to +go wrong from the first tinkle of the bell, Monday morning, to the +last tinkle Saturday night. + +It began with a conversation. + +Rosie came marching in early Monday, head up, eyes flaming. + +"Maida," she began at once, in her quickest, briskest tone, "I've +got something to tell you. Laura Lathrop came over to Dicky's house +the other day while the W.M.N.T.'s were meeting and she told us the +greatest mess of stuff about you. I told her I was coming right over +and tell you about it and she said, 'All right, you can.' Laura said +that you said that last summer you had a birthday party that you +invited five hundred children to. She said that you said that you +had a May-pole at this party and a fish pond and a Punch and Judy +show and all sorts of things. She said that you said that you had a +big doll-house and a little theater all your own. I said that I +didn't believe that you told her all that. Did you?" + +"Oh, yes, I told her that--and more," Maida answered directly. + +"Laura said it was all a pack of lies, but I don't believe that. Is +it all true?" + +"It's all true," Maida said. + +Rosie looked at her hard. "You know, Maida," she went on after +awhile, "you told me about a lot of birds and animals that your +father had. I thought he kept a bird-place. But Dicky says you told +him that your father had twelve peacocks, not in a store, but in a +place where he lives." She paused and looked inquiringly at Maida. + +Maida answered the look. "Yes, I told him that." + +"And it's all true?" Rosie asked again. + +"Yes, it's all true," Maida repeated. + +Rosie hesitated a moment. "Harold Lathrop says that you're daffy." + +Maida said nothing. + +"Arthur Duncan says," Rosie went on more timidly, "that you probably +dreamed those things." + +Still Maida said nothing. + +"Do you think you did dream them, Maida?" + +Maida smiled. "No, I didn't dream them." + +"Well, I thought of another thing," Rosie went on eagerly. "Miss +Allison told mother that Granny told her that you'd been sick for a +long time. And I thought, maybe you were out of your head and +imagined those things. Oh, Maida," Rosie's voice actually coaxed her +to favor this theory, "don't you think you imagined them?" + +Maida laughed. "No, Rosie," she said in her quietest voice, "I did +not imagine them." + +For a moment neither of the two little girls spoke. But they stared, +a little defiantly, into each other's eyes. + +"What did Dicky say?" Maida asked after awhile. + +"Oh, Dicky said he would believe anything you told him, no matter +what it was. Dicky says he believes you're a princess in +disguise--like in fairy-tales." + +"Dear, dear Dicky!" Maida said. "He was the first friend I made in +Primrose Court and I guess he's the best one." + +"Well, I guess I'm your friend," Rosie said, firing up; "I told that +little smarty-cat of a Laura if she ever said one word against you, +I'd slap her good and hard. Only--only--it seems strange that a little +girl who's just like the rest of us should have story-book things +happening to her all the time. If it's true--then fairy-tales are +true." She paused and looked Maida straight in the eye. "I can't +believe it, Maida. But I know you believe it. And that's all there +is to it. But you'd better believe I'm your friend." + +Saying which she marched out. + +Maida's second trouble began that night. + +It had grown dark. Suddenly, without any warning, the door of the +shop flew open. For an instant three or four voices filled the place +with their yells. Then the door shut. Nothing was heard but the +sound of running feet. + +Granny and Maida rushed to the door. Nobody was in sight. + +"Who was it? What does it mean, Granny?" Maida asked in +bewilderment. "Only naughty b'ys, taysing you," Granny explained. + +Maida had hardly seated herself when the performance was repeated. +Again she rushed to the door. Again she saw nobody. The third time +she did not stir from her chair. + +Tuesday night the same thing happened. Who the boys were Maida could +not find out. Why they bothered her, she could not guess. + +"Take no notuce av ut, my lamb," Granny counselled. "When they foind +you pay no attintion to ut, they'll be afther stopping." + +Maida followed Granny's advice. But the annoyance did not cease and +she began to dread the twilight. She made up her mind that she must +put an end to it soon. She knew she could stop it at once by +appealing to Billy Potter. And, yet, somehow, she did not want to +ask for outside help. She had a feeling of pride about handling her +own troubles. + +One afternoon Laura came into the shop. It was the first time that +Maida had seen her since the afternoon of her call and Maida did not +speak. She felt that she could not have anything to do with Laura +after what had happened. But she looked straight at Laura and +waited. + +Laura did not speak either. She looked at Maida as if she had never +seen her before. She carried her head at its highest and she moved +across the room with her most important air. As she stood a moment +gazing at the things in the show case, she had never seemed more +patronizing. + +"A cent's worth of dulse, please," she said airily. + +"Dulse?" Maida repeated questioningly; "I guess I haven't any. What +is dulse?" + +"Haven't any dulse?" Laura repeated with an appearance of being +greatly shocked. "Do you mean to say you haven't any dulse?" + +Maida did not answer--she put her lips tight together. + +"This is a healthy shop," Laura went on in a sneering tone, "no +mollolligobs, no apple-on-the-stick, no tamarinds, no pop-corn +balls, no dulse. Why don't you sell the things we want? Half the +children in the neighborhood are going down to Main Street to get +them now." + +She bustled out of the shop. Maida stared after her with wide, +alarmed eyes. For a moment she did not stir. Then she ran into the +living-room and buried her face in Granny's lap, bursting into +tears. + +"Oh, Granny," she sobbed, "Laura Lathrop says that half the children +don't like my shop and they're going down to Main Street to buy +things. What shall I do? What shall I do?" + +"There, there, acushla," Granny said soothingly, taking the +trembling little girl on to her lap. "Don't worry about anny t'ing +that wan says. 'Tis a foine little shop you have, as all the grown +folks says." + +"But, Granny," Maida protested passionately, "I don't want to please +the grown people, I want to please the children. And papa said I +must make the store pay. And now I'm afraid I never will. Oh, what +shall I do?" + +She got no further. A tinkle of the bell, followed by pattering +footsteps, interrupted. In an instant, Rosie, brilliant in her +scarlet cape and scarlet hat, with cheeks and lips the color of +cherries, stood at her side. + +"I saw that hateful Laura come out of here," she said. "I just knew +she'd come in to make trouble. What did she say to you?" + +Maida told her slowly between her sobs. + +"Horrid little smarty-cat!" was Rosie's comment and she scowled +until her face looked like a thunder-cloud. + +"I shall never speak to her again," Maida declared fervently. "But +what shall I do about it, Rosie?--it may be true what she said." + +"Now don't you get discouraged, Maida," Rosie said. "Because I can +tell you just how to get or make those things Laura spoke of." + +"Oh, can you, Rosie. What would I do without you? I'll put +everything down in a book so that I shan't forget them." + +She limped over to the desk. There the black head bent over the +golden one. + +"What is dulse?" Maida demanded first. + +"Don't you know what dulse is?" Rosie asked incredulously. "Maida, +you are the queerest child. The commonest things you don't know +anything about. And yet I suppose if I asked you if you'd seen a +flying-machine, you'd say you had." + +"I have," Maida answered instantly, "in Paris." + +Rosie's face wrinkled into its most perplexed look. She changed the +subject at once. "Well, dulse is a purple stuff--when you see a lot +of it together, it looks as if a million toy-balloons had burst. +It's all wrinkled up and tastes salty." + +Maida thought hard for a moment. Then she burst into laughter, +although the big round tear-drops were still hanging from the tips +of her lashes. "There was a whole drawerful here when I first came. +I remember now I thought it was waste stuff and threw it all away." + +Rosie laughed too. "The tamarinds you can get from the man who comes +round with the wagon. Mrs. Murdock used to make her own +apples-on-the-stick, mollolligobs and corn-balls. I've helped her many a +time. Now I'll write you a list of stuff to order from the grocer. I'll +come round after school and we'll make a batch of all those things. +To-night you get Billy to print a sign, '_apples on the stick and +mollolligobs to-day_.' You put that in the window to-morrow morning +and by to-morrow night, you'll be all sold out." + +"Oh, Rosie," Maida said happily, "I shall be so much obliged to +you!" + +Rosie was as good as her word. She appeared that afternoon wearing a +long-sleeved apron under the scarlet cape. It seemed to Maida that +she worked like lightning, for she made batch after batch of candy, +moving as capably about the stove as an experienced cook. In the +meantime, Maida was popping corn at the fireplace. They mounted +fifty apples on skewers and dipped them, one at a time, into the +boiling candy. They made thirty corn-balls and twenty-five +mollolligobs, which turned out to be round chunks of candy, stuck on +the end of sticks. + +"I never did see such clever children anywhere as there are in +Primrose Court," Maida said that night with a sigh to Granny. "Rosie +told me that she could make six kinds of candy. And Dicky can cook +as well as his mother. They make me feel so useless. Why, Granny, I +can't do a single thing that's any good to anybody." + +The next day the shop was crowded. By night there was not an apple, +a corn-ball or a mollolligob left. + +"I shall have a sale like this once a week in the future," Maida +said. "Why, Granny, lots and lots of children came here who'd never +been in the shop before." + +And so what looked like serious trouble ended very happily. + +Trouble number three was a great deal more serious and it did not, +at first, promise to end well at all. It had to do with Arthur +Duncan. It had been going on for a week before Maida mentioned it to +anybody. But it haunted her very dreams. + +Early Monday morning, Arthur came into the shop. In his usual gruff +voice and with his usual surly manner, he said, "Show me some of +those rubbers in the window." + +Maida took out a handful of the rubbers--five, she thought--and put +them on the counter. While Arthur looked them over, she turned to +replace a paper-doll which she had knocked down. + +"Guess I won't take one to-day," Arthur said, while her back was +still turned, and walked out. + +When Maida put the rubbers back, she discovered that there were only +four. She made up her mind that she had not counted right and +thought no more of the incident. + +Two days later, Arthur Duncan came in again. Maida had just been +selling some pencils--pretty striped ones with a blue stone in the +end. Three of them were left lying out on the counter. Arthur asked +her to show him some penholders. Maida took three from the shelves +back of her. He bought one of these. After he had gone, she +discovered that there were only two pencils left on the counter. + +"One of them must have rolled off," Maida thought. But although she +looked everywhere, she could not find it. The incident of the rubber +occurred to her. She felt a little troubled but she resolved to put +both circumstances out of her mind. + +A day or two later, Arthur Duncan came in for the third time. It +happened that Granny was out marketing. + +Piled on the counter was a stack of blank-books--pretty books they +were, with a child's head in color on the cover. Arthur asked for +letter-paper. Maida turned back to the shelf. With her hand on the +sliding door, she stopped, half-stunned. + +_Reflected in the glass she saw Arthur Duncan stow one of the blank +books away in his pocket._ + +Maida felt sick all over. She did not know what to do. She did not +know what to say. + +She fumbled with trembling hands among the things on the shelf. She +dreaded to turn for fear her face would express what she had seen. + +"Perhaps he'll pay for it," she thought; "I hope he will." + +But Arthur made no offer to pay. He looked over the letter-paper +that Maida, with downcast eyes, put before him, decided that he did +not want any after all, and walked coolly from the shop. + +Granny, coming in a few moments later, was surprised to find Maida +leaning on the counter, her face buried in her hands. + +"What's the matter with my lamb?" the old lady asked cheerfully. + +"Nothing, Granny," Maida said. But she did not meet Granny's eye and +during dinner she was quiet and serious. + +That night Billy Potter called. "Well, how goes the _Bon Marche of_ +Charlestown?" he asked cheerfully. + +"Billy," Maida said gravely, "if you found that a little boy--I can't +say what his name is--was stealing from you, what would you do?" + +Billy considered the question as gravely as she had asked it. "Tell +the policeman on the beat and get him to throw a scare into him," he +said at last. + +"I guess that's what I'll have to do." But Maida's tone was +mournful. + +But Granny interrupted. + +"Don't you do ut, my lamb--don't you do ut!" She turned to them +both--they had never seen her blue eyes so fiery before. "Suppose you +was one av these poor little chilthren that lives round here that's +always had harrd wurruds for their meals and hunger for their +pillow, wudn't you be afther staling yersilf if ut came aisy-loike +and nobody was luking?" + +Neither Billy nor Maida spoke for a moment. + +"I guess Granny's right," Billy said finally. + +"I guess she is," Maida said with a sigh. + +It was three days before Arthur Duncan came into the shop again. But +in the meantime, Maida went one afternoon to play with Dicky. Dicky +was drawing at a table when Maida came in. She glanced at his work. +He was using a striped pencil with a blue stone in its end, a +blank-book with the picture of a little girl on the cover, a rubber of +a kind very familiar to her. Maida knew certainly that Dicky had +bought none of these things from her. She knew as certainly that +they were the things Arthur Duncan had stolen. What was the +explanation of the mystery? She went to bed that night miserably +unhappy. + +Her heart beat pit-a-pat the next time she saw Arthur open the door. +She folded her hands close together so that he should not see that +she was trembling. She began to wish that she had followed Billy's +advice. Sitting in the shop all alone--Granny, it happened again, was +out--it occurred to her that it was, perhaps, too serious a situation +for a little girl to deal with. + +She had made up her mind that when Arthur was in the shop, she would +not turn her back to him. She was determined not to give him the +chance to fall into temptation. But he asked for pencil-sharpeners +and pencil-sharpeners were kept in the lower drawer. There was +nothing for her to do but to get down on the floor. She remembered +with a sense of relief that she had left no stock out on the +counter. She knelt upright on the floor, seeking for the box. +Suddenly, reflected in the glass door, she saw another terrifying +picture. + +_Arthur Duncan's arm was just closing the money drawer._ + +For an instant Maida felt so sick at heart that she wanted to run +back into the living-room, throw herself into Granny's big chair and +cry her eyes out. Then suddenly all this weakness went. A feeling, +such as she had never known, came into its place. She was still +angry but she was singularly cool. She felt no more afraid of Arthur +Duncan than of the bowl of dahlias, blooming on the counter. + +She whirled around in a flash and looked him straight in the eye. + +"If there is anything in this shop that you want so much that you +are willing to steal, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," +she said. + +"Aw, what are you talking about?" Arthur demanded. He attempted to +out-stare her. + +But Maida kept her eyes steadily on his. "You know what I'm talking +about well enough," she said quietly. "In the last week you've +stolen a rubber and a pencil and a blank-book from me and just now +you tried to take some money from the money-drawer." + +Arthur sneered. "How are you going to prove it?" he asked +impudently. + +Maida was thoroughly angry. But something inside warned her that she +must not give way to temper. For all her life, she had been +accustomed to think before she spoke. Indeed, she herself had never +been driven or scolded. Her father had always reasoned with her. +Doctors and nurses had always reasoned with her. Even Granny had +always reasoned with her. So, now, she thought very carefully before +she spoke again. But she kept her eyes fixed on Arthur. His eyes did +not move from hers but, in some curious way, she knew that he was +uneasy. + +"I can't prove it," she said at last, "and I hadn't any idea of +trying to. I'm only warning you that you must not come in here if +you're not to be trusted. And I told you the truth when I said I +would rather give you anything in the shop than have you steal it. +For I think you must need those things very badly to be willing to +get them that way. I don't believe anybody _wants_ to steal. Now +when you want anything so bad as that, come to me and I'll see if I +can get it for you." + +Arthur stared at her as if he had not a word on his tongue. "If you +think you can frighten me,--" he said. Then, without ending his +sentence, he swaggered out of the shop. But to Maida his swagger +seemed like something put on to conceal another feeling. + +Maida suddenly felt very tired. She wished that Granny Flynn would +come back. She wanted Granny to take her into her lap, to cuddle +her, to tell her some merry little tale of the Irish fairies. But, +instead, the bell rang and another customer came in. While she was +waiting on her, Maida noticed somebody come stealthily up to the +window, look in and then duck down. She wondered if it might be +Billy playing one of his games on her. + +The customer went out. In a few moments the bell tinkled again. +Maida had been leaning against the counter, her tired head on her +outstretched arms. She looked up. It was Arthur Duncan. + +He strode straight over to her. + +"Here's three cents for your rubber," he said, "and five for your +pencil, five for the blank book and there's two dimes I took out of +the money-drawer." + +Maida did not know what to say. The tears came to her eyes and +rolled down her cheeks. Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to +the other in intense embarrassment. + +"I didn't know it would make you feel as bad as that," he said. + +"I don't feel bad," Maida sobbed--and to prove it she smiled while +the tears ran down her cheeks--"I feel glad." + +What he would have answered to this she never knew. For at that +moment the door flew open. The little rowdy boys who had been +troubling her so much lately, let out a series of blood-curdling +yells. + +"What's that?" Arthur asked. + +"I don't know who they are," Maida said wearily, "but they do that +three or four times every night. I don't know what to do about it." + +"Well, I do," Arthur said. "You wait!" + +He went over to the door and waited, flattening himself against the +wall. After a long silence, they could hear footsteps tip-toeing on +the bricks outside. The door flew open. Arthur Duncan leaped like a +cat through the opening. There came back to Maida the sound of +running, then a pause, then another sound very much as if two or +three naughty little heads were being vigorously knocked together. +She heard Arthur say: + +"Let me catch one of you doing that again and I'll lick you till you +can't stand up. And remember I'll be watching for you every night +now." + +Maida did not see him again then. But just before dinner the bell +rang. When Maida opened the door there stood Arthur. + +"I had this kitten and I thought you might like him," he said +awkwardly, holding out a little bundle of gray fluff. + +"Want it!" Maida said. She seized it eagerly. "Oh, thank you, +Arthur, ever so much. Oh, Granny, look at this darling kit-kat. What +a ball of fluff he is! I'll call him Fluff. And he isn't an Angora +or a prize kitty of any kind--just a beautiful plain everyday cat--the +kind I've always wanted!" + +Even this was not all. After dinner the shop bell rang again. This +time it was Arthur and Rosie. Rosie's lips were very tight as if she +had made up her mind to some bold deed but her flashing eyes showed +her excitement. + +"Can we see you alone for a moment, Maida?" she asked in her most +business-like tones. + +Wondering, Maida shut the door to the living-room and came back to +them. + +"Maida," Rosie began, "Arthur told me all about the rubber and the +pencil and the blank book and the dimes. Of course, I felt pretty +bad when I heard about it. But I wanted Arthur to come right over +here and explain the whole thing to you. You see Arthur took those +things to give away to Dicky because Dicky has such a hard time +getting anything he wants." + +"Yes, I saw them over at Dicky's," Maida said. + +"And then, there was a great deal more to it that Arthur's just told +me and I thought you ought to know it at once. You see Arthur's +father belongs to a club that meets once a month and Arthur goes +there a lot with him. And those men think that plenty of people have +things that they have no right to--oh, like automobiles--I mean, +things that they haven't earned. And the men in Mr. Duncan's club +say that it's perfectly right to take things away from people who +have too much and give them to people who have too little. But I say +that may be all right for grown people but when children do it, it's +just plain _stealing_. And that's all there is to it! But I wanted +you to know that Arthur thought it was right--well sort of right, you +understand--when he took those things. You don't think so now, do +you, after the talking-to I've given you?" She turned severely on +Arthur. + +Arthur shuffled and looked embarrassed. "No," he said sheepishly, +"not until you're grown up." + +"But what I wanted to say next, Maida," Rosie continued, "is, please +not to tell Dicky. He would be so surprised--and then he wouldn't +keep the things that Arthur gave him. And of course now that Arthur +has paid for them--they're all right for him to have." + +"Of course I wouldn't tell anybody," Maida said in a shocked voice, +"not even Granny or Billy--not even my father." + +"Then that's settled," Rosie said with a sigh. "Good night." + +The next day the following note reached Maida: + + + You are cordully invited to join the W.M.N.T. Club which meets + three times a week at the house of Miss Rosie Brine, or Mr. + Richard Dore or Mr. Arthur Duncan. + + P.S. The name means, WE MUST NEVER TELL. + + +Maida dreamed nothing but happy dreams that night. + + + + + + CHAPTER VIII: A RAINY DAY + + +The next day it rained dismally. Maida had been running the shop for +three weeks but this was her first experience with stormy weather. +Because she, herself, had never been allowed to set her foot +outdoors when the weather was damp, she expected that she would see +no children that day. But long before the bell rang they crowded in +wet streaming groups into the shop. And at nine the lines +disappearing into the big school doorways seemed as long as ever. + +Even the Clark twins in rubber boots, long rain-capes and a baby +umbrella came in to spend their daily pennies. + +"I guess it'll be one session, Maida," Dorothy whispered. + +"Oh goody, Dorothy!" Mabel lisped. "Don't you love one session, +Maida?" + +Maida was ashamed to confess to two such tiny girls that she did not +know what "one session" meant. But she puzzled over it the whole +morning. If Rosie and Arthur had come in she would have asked them. +But neither of them appeared. Indeed, they were not anywhere in the +lines--Maida looked very carefully. + +At twelve o'clock the school bell did not ring. In surprise, Maida +craned out of the window to consult the big church clock. It agreed +exactly with the tall grandfather's clock in the living-room. Both +pointed to twelve, then to five minutes after and ten and +fifteen--still no bell. + +A little later Dicky came swinging along, the sides of his old rusty +raincoat flapping like the wings of some great bird. + +"It's one-session, Maida," he said jubilantly, "did you hear the +bell?" + +"What's one session, Dicky?" Maida asked. + +"Why, when it's too stormy for the children to go to school in the +afternoon the fire-bells ring twenty-two at quarter to twelve. They +keep all the classes in until one o'clock though." + +"Oh, that's why they don't come out," Maida said. + +At one o'clock the umbrellas began to file out of the school door. +The street looked as if it had grown a monster crop of shiny black +toad-stools. But it was the only sign of life that the neighborhood +showed for the rest of the day. The storm was too violent for even +the big boys and girls to brave. A very long afternoon went by. Not +a customer came into the shop. Maida felt very lonely. She wandered +from shop to living-room and from living-room to chamber. She tried +to read. She sewed a little. She even popped corn for a lonesome +fifteen minutes. But it seemed as if the long dark day would never +go. + +As they were sitting down to dinner that night, Billy bounced in--his +face pink and wet, his eyes sparkling like diamonds from his +conflict with the winds. + +"Oh, Billy, how glad I am to see you," Maida said. "It's been the +lonesomest day." + +"Sure, the sight av ye's grand for sore eyes," said Granny. + +Maida had noticed that Billy's appearance always made the greatest +difference in everything. Before he came, the noise of the wind +howling about the store made Maida sad. Now it seemed the jolliest +of sounds. And when at seven, Rosie appeared, Maida's cup of +happiness brimmed over. + +While Billy talked with Granny, the two little girls rearranged the +stock. + +"My mother was awful mad with me just before supper," Rosie began at +once. "It seems as if she was so cross lately that there's no living +with her. She picks on me all the time. That's why I'm here. She +sent me to bed. But I made up my mind I wouldn't go to bed. I +climbed out my bedroom window and came over here." + +"Oh, Rosie, I wish you wouldn't do that," Maida said. "Oh, do run +right home! Think how worried your mother would be if she went up +into your room and found you gone. She wouldn't know what had become +of you." + +"Well, then, what makes her so strict with me?" Rosie cried. Her +eyes had grown as black as thunder clouds. The scowl that made her +face so sullen had come deep between her eyebrows. + +"Oh, how I wish I had a mother," Maida said longingly. "I guess I +wouldn't say a word to her, no matter how strict she was." + +"I guess you don't know what you'd do until you tried it," Rosie +said. + +Granny and Billy had been curiously quiet in the other room. +Suddenly Billy Potter stepped to the door. + +"I've just thought of a great game, children," he said. "But we've +got to play it in the kitchen. Bring some crayons, Maida." + +The children raced after him. "What is it?" they asked in chorus. + +Billy did not answer. He lifted Granny's easy-chair with Granny, +knitting and all, and placed it in front of the kitchen stove. Then +he began to draw a huge rectangle on the clean, stone floor. + +"Guess," he said. + +"Sure and Oi know what ut's going to be," smiled Granny. + +Maida and Rosie watched him closely. Suddenly they both shouted +together: + +"Hopscotch! Hopscotch!" + +"Right you are!" Billy approved. He searched among the coals in the +hod until he found a hard piece of slate. + +"All ready now!" he said briskly. "Your turn, first, Rosie, because +you're company." + +Rosie failed on "fivesy." Maida's turn came next and she failed on +"threesy." Billy followed Maida but he hopped on the line on +"twosy." + +"Oi belave Oi cud play that game, ould as Oi am," Granny said +suddenly. + +"I bet you could," Billy said. + +"Sure, 'twas a foine player Oi was when Oi was a little colleen." + +"Come on, Granny," Billy said. + +The two little girls jumped up and down, clapping their hands and +shrieking, "Granny's going to play!" "Granny's going to play!" They +made so much noise finally, that Billy had to threaten to stand them +on their heads in a corner. + +Granny took her turn after Billy. She hopped about like a very +active and a very benevolent old fairy. + +"Oh, doesn't she look like the Dame in fairy tales?" Maida said. + +They played for a half an hour. And who do you suppose won? Not +Maida with all her new-found strength, not Rosie with all her +nervous energy, not Billy with all his athletic training. + +"Mrs. Delia Flynn, champion of America and Ireland," Billy greeted +the victor. "Granny, we'll have to enter you in the next Olympic +games." + +They returned after this breathless work to the living-room. + +"Now I'm going to tell you a story," Billy announced. + +"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Maida squealed. "Do! Billy tells the most wonderful +stories, Rosie--stories he's heard and stories he's read. But the +most wonderful ones are those that he makes up as he goes along." + +The two little girls settled themselves on the hearth-rug at Billy's +feet. Granny sat, not far off, working with double speed at her +neglected knitting. + +"Once upon a time," Billy said, "there lived a little girl named +Klara. And Klara was the naughtiest little girl in the world. She +was a pretty child and a clever child and everybody would have loved +her if she had only given them a chance. But how can you love a +child who is doing naughty things all the time? Particularly was she +a great trial to her mother. That poor lady was not well and needed +care and attention, herself. But instead of giving her these, Klara +gave her only hard words and disobedient acts. The mother used +sometimes to punish her little daughter but it seemed as if this +only made her worse. Both father and mother were in despair about +her. Klara seemed to be growing steadily worse and worse. And, +indeed, lately, she had added to her naughtiness by threatening to +run away. + +"One night, it happened, Klara had been so bad that her mother had +put her to bed early. The moment her mother left the room, Klara +whipped over to the window. 'I'm going to dress myself and climb out +the window and run away and never come back, she said to herself.' + +"The house in which Klara lived was built on the side of a cliff, +overlooking the sea. As Klara stood there in her nightgown the moon +began to rise and come up out of the water. Now the moonrise is +always a beautiful sight and Klara stopped for a moment to watch it, +fascinated. + +"It seemed to her that she had never seen the moon look so big +before. And certainly she had never seen it such a color--a soft deep +orange. In fact, it might have been an immense orange--or better, a +monster pumpkin stuck on the horizon-line. + +"The strange thing about the moon, though, was that it grew larger +instead of smaller. It rose higher and higher, growing bigger and +bigger, until it was half-way up the curve of the sky. Then it +stopped short. Klara watched it, her eyes bulging out of her head. +In all her experience she had never seen such a surprising thing. +And while she watched, another remarkable thing happened. A great +door in the moon opened suddenly and there on the threshold stood a +little old lady. A strange little old lady she was--a little old lady +with short red skirts and high, gayly-flowered draperies at her +waist, a little old lady with a tall black, sugar-loaf hat, a great +white ruff around her neck and little red shoes with bright silver +buckles on them--a little old lady who carried a black cat perched on +one shoulder and a broomstick in one hand. + +"The little old lady stooped down and lifted something over the +threshold. Klara strained her eyes to see what it was. It looked +like a great roll of golden carpeting. With a sudden deft movement +the little old lady threw it out of the door. It flew straight +across the ocean, unrolling as swiftly as a ball of twine that +you've flung across the room. It came nearer and nearer. The farther +it got from the moon, the faster it unrolled. After a while it +struck against the shore right under Klara's window and Klara saw +that it was the wake of the moon. She watched. + +"The little old lady had disappeared from the doorway in the moon +but the door did not close. And, suddenly, still another wonderful +thing happened. The golden wake lifted itself gradually from the +water until it was on a level with Klara's window. Bending down she +touched it with both her soft little hands. It was as firm and hard +as if it had been woven from strands of gold. + +"'Now's my time to run away from my cross mother,' Klara said to +herself. 'I guess that nice old lady in the moon wants me to come +and be her little girl. Well, I'll go. I guess they'll be sorry in +this house to-morrow when they wake up and find they're never going +to see me again.' + +"Opening the window gently that nobody might hear her, she stepped +on to the Wake of Gold. It felt cool and hard to her little bare +feet. It inclined gently from her window. She ran down the slope +until she reached the edge of the sea. There she hesitated. For a +moment it seemed a daring thing to walk straight out to the moon +with nothing between her and the water but a path of gold. Then she +recalled how her mother had sent her to bed and her heart hardened. +She started briskly out. + +"From Klara's window it had looked as though it would take her only +a few moments to get to the moon. But the farther she went, the +farther from her the doorway seemed to go. But she did not mind that +the walk was so long because it was so pretty. Looking over the edge +of the Wake of Gold, deep down in the water, she could see all kinds +of strange sights. + +"At one place a school of little fish swam up to the surface of the +water. Klara knelt down and watched their pretty, graceful motions. +The longer she gazed the more fish she saw and the more beautiful +they seemed. Pale-blue fishes with silver spots. Pale-pink ones with +golden stripes. Gorgeous red ones with jewelled black horns. +Brilliant yellow and green ones that shone like phosphorus. And here +and there, gliding among them, were what seemed little angel-fish +like living rainbows, whose filmy wing-like fins changed color when +they swam. + +"Klara reached into the water and tried to catch some of these +marvelous beings. + +"But at her first motion--bing! The water looked as if it were +streaked with rainbow lightning. Swish! It was dull and clear again, +with nothing between her and the quiet, seaweed-covered bottom. + +"A little farther along Klara came across a wonderful sea-grotto. +Again she knelt down on the Wake of Gold and watched. At the bottom +the sand was so white and shiny that it might have been made of +star-dust. Growing up from it were beds of marvelous seaflowers, +opening and shutting delicate petals, beautiful seafans that waved +with every ripple, high, thick shrubs and towering trees in which +the fishes had built their nests. In and out among all this +undergrowth, frisked tiny sea-horses, ridden by mischievous +sea-urchins. They leaped and trotted and galloped as if they were so +happy that they did not know what to do. Klara felt that she must +play with them. She put one little foot into the water to attract +their attention. Bing! The water seemed alive with scuttling things. +Swish! The grotto was so quiet that she could not believe that there +was anything living in it. + +"A little farther on, Klara came upon a sight even more wonderful +than this--a village of mer-people. It was set so far down in the +water that it seemed a million miles away. And yet the water was so +clear that she felt she could touch the housetops. + +"The mer-houses seemed to be made of a beautiful, sparkling white +coral with big, wide-open windows through which the tide drifted. +The mer-streets seemed to be cobbled in pearl, the sidewalks to be +paved in gold. At their sides grew mer-trees, the highest she had +ever seen, with all kinds of beautiful singing fish roosting in +their branches. Little mer-boats of carved pink coral with purple +seaweed sails or of mother-of-pearl with rosy, mer-flower-petal +sails, were floating through the streets. In some, sat little +mer-maidens, the sunlight flashing on their pretty green scales, on +their long, golden tresses, on the bright mirrors they held in their +hands. Other boats held little mer-boys who made beautiful music on +the harps they carried. + +"At one end of the mer-village Klara could see one palace, bigger +and more beautiful than all the others. Through an open window she +caught a glimpse of the mer-king--a jolly old fellow with a fat red +face and a long white beard sitting on a throne of gold. At his side +reclined the mer-queen--a very beautiful lady with a skin as white as +milk and eyes as green as emeralds. Little mer-princes and little +mer-princesses were playing on the floor with tiny mer-kittens and +tinier mer-puppies. One sweet little mer-baby was tiptailing towards +the window with a pearl that she had stolen from her sister's +coronet. + +"It seemed to Klara that this mer-village was the most enchanting +place that she had ever seen in her life. Oh, how she wanted to live +there! + +"'Oh, good mer-king,' she called entreatingly, 'and good mer-queen, +please let me come to live in your palace.' + +"Bing! The water rustled and roiled as if all the birds of paradise +that the world contained had taken flight. Swish! It was perfectly +quiet again. The mer-village was as deserted as a graveyard. + +"'Well, if they don't want me, they shan't get me, Klara said. And +she walked on twice as proud.' + +"By this time she was getting closer and closer to the moon. The +nearer she came the bigger it grew. Now it filled the entire sky. +The door had remained open all this time. Through it she could see a +garden--a garden more beautiful than any fairy-tale garden that she +had ever read about. From the doorway silvery paths stretched +between hedges as high as a giant's head. Sometimes these paths +ended in fountains whose spray twisted into all kinds of fairy-like +shapes. Sometimes these paths seemed to stop flush against the +clouds. Nearer stretched flower-beds so brilliant that you would +have thought a kaleidoscope had broken on the ground. Birds, like +living jewels, flew in and out through the tree-branches. They sang +so hard that it seemed to Klara they must burst their little +throats. From the branches hung all kinds of precious stones, all +kinds of delicious-looking fruits and candies. + +"Klara could not scramble through the door quickly enough. + +"But as she put one foot on the threshold the little old lady +appeared. She looked as if she had stepped out of a fairy-tale. And +yet Klara had a strange feeling of discomfort when she looked at +her. It seemed to Klara that the old lady's mouth was cruel and her +eyes hard. + +"'Are you the little girl who's run away?' the old lady asked. + +"'Yes,' Klara faltered. + +"'And you want to live in the Kingdom of the Moon?' + +"'Yes.' + +"'Enter then.' + +"The old lady stepped aside and Klara marched across the threshold. +She felt the door swinging to behind her. She heard a bang as it +closed, shutting her out of the world and into the moon. + +"And then--and then--what do you think happened?" + +Billy stopped for a moment. Rosie and Maida rose to their knees. + +"What happened?" they asked breathlessly. + +"The garden vanished as utterly as if it were a broken soap-bubble. +Gone were the trees and the flowers; gone were the fountains and the +birds; gone, too, were the jewels, the candies and the fruits. + +"The place had become a huge, dreary waste, stretching as far as +Klara could see into the distance. It seemed to her as if all the +trash that the world had outgrown had been dumped here--it was so +covered with heaps of old rubbish. + +"Klara turned to the old lady. She had not changed except that her +cruel mouth sneered. + +"Klara burst into tears. 'I want to go home,' she screamed. 'Let me +go back to my mother.' + +"The old lady only smiled. 'You open that door and let me go back to +my mother,' Klara cried passionately. + +"'But I can't open it,' the old lady said. 'It's locked. I have no +keys.' + +"'Where are the keys?' Klara asked. + +"The old lady pointed to the endless heaps of rubbish. 'There, +somewhere,' she said. + +"'I'll find them,' Klara screamed, 'and open that door and run back +to my home. You shan't keep me from my own dear mother, you wicked +woman.' + +"'Nobody wants to keep you,' the old lady said. 'You came of your +own accord. Find the keys if you want to go back.' + +"That was true and Klara wisely did not answer. But you can fancy +how she regretted coming. She began to search among the dump-heaps. +She could find no keys. But the longer she hunted the more +determined she grew. It seemed to her that she searched for weeks +and weeks. + +"It was very discouraging, very dirty and very fatiguing work. She +moved always in a cloud of dust. At times it seemed as if her back +would break from bending so much. Often she had to bite her lips to +keep from screaming with rage after she had gone through a +rubbish-pile as high as her head and, still, no keys. All kinds of +venomous insects stung her. All kinds of vines and brambles scratched +her. All kinds of stickers and thistles pricked her. Her little feet +and hands bled all the time. But still she kept at it. After that first +conversation, Klara never spoke with the old lady again. After a few +days Klara left her in the distance. At the end of a week, the +moon-door was no longer in sight when Klara looked back. + +"But during all those weeks of weary work Klara had a chance to +think. She saw for the first time what a naughty little girl she had +been and how she had worried the kindest mother in the world. Her +longing for her mother grew so great at times that she had to sit +down and cry. But after a while she would dry her eyes and go at the +hunt with fresh determination. + +"One day she caught a glint of something shining from a clump of +bushes. She had to dig and dig to get at it for about these bushes +the ashes were packed down hard. But finally she uncovered a pair of +iron keys. On one was printed in letters of gold, 'I'M SORRY,' on +the other, 'I'LL NEVER DO SO AGAIN.' + +"Klara seized the keys joyfully and ran all the long way back to the +great door. It had two locks. She put one key in the upper lock, +turned it--a great bolt jarred. She put the other key into the second +lock, turned it--a great bolt jarred. The door swung open. + +"'I'm sorry,' Klara whispered to herself. 'I'll never do so again.' + +"She had a feeling that as long as she said those magic words, +everything would go well with her. + +"Extending out from the door was the Wake of Gold. Klara bounded +through the opening and ran. She turned back after a few moments and +there was the old lady with her cat and her broomstick standing in +the doorway. But the old lady's face had grown very gentle and kind. + +"Klara did not look long. She ran as fast as she could pelt across +the golden path, whispering, 'I'm sorry. I will never do so again. +I'm sorry. I will never do so again. I'm sorry. I will never do so +again.' + +"And as she ran all the little mer-people came to the surface of the +water to encourage her. The little mer-maidens flashed their mirrors +at her. The little mer-boys played wonderful music on their harps. +The mer-king gave her a jolly smile and the mer-queen blew her a +kiss. All the little mer-princesses and all the little mer-princes +held up their pets to her. Even the mer-baby clapped her dimpled +hands. + +"And farther on all the little sea horses with the sea urchins on +their backs assembled in bobbing groups. And farther on all the +little rainbow fishes gathered in shining files. As she ran all the +scratches and gashes in her flesh healed up. + +"After a while she reached her own window. Opening it, she jumped +in. Turning to pull it down she saw the old lady disappear from the +doorway of the moon, saw the door close upon her, saw the Wake of +Gold melt and fall into the sea where it lay in a million gleaming +spangles, saw the moon float up into the sky, growing smaller and +smaller and paler and paler until it was no larger than a silver +plate. And now it was the moon no longer--it was the sun. Its rays +were shining hot on her face. She was back in her little bed. Her +mother's arms were about her and Klara was saying, 'I'm SORRY. I +WILL NEVER DO SO AGAIN.'" + + ---------------------- + +For a long time after Billy finished the room was very quiet. Then +suddenly Rosie jumped to her feet. "That was a lovely story, Billy," +she said. "But I guess I don't want to hear any more now. I think +I'll go home." + + + + + + CHAPTER IX: WORK + + +It was still raining when Maida got up the next day. It rained all +the morning. She listened carefully at a quarter to twelve for the +one-session bell but it did not ring. Just before school began in +the afternoon Rosie came into the shop. Maida saw at once that +something had happened to her. Rosie's face looked strange and she +dragged across the room instead of pattering with her usual quick, +light step. + +"What do you think's happened, Maida?" Rosie asked. + +"I don't know. Oh, what?" Maida asked affrighted. + +"When I came home from school this noon mother wasn't there. But +Aunt Theresa was there--she'd cooked the dinner. She said that mother +had gone away for a visit and that she wouldn't be back for some +time. She said she was going to keep house for father and me while +mother was gone. I feel dreadfully homesick and lonesome without +mother." + +"Oh Rosie, I am sorry," Maida said. "But perhaps your mother won't +stay long. Do you like your Aunt Theresa?" + +"Oh, yes, I like her. But of course she isn't mother." + +"No, of course. Nobody is like your mother." + +"Oh, yes; there's something else I had to tell you. The W.M.N.T.'s +are going to meet at Dicky's after school this afternoon. Be sure to +come, Maida." + +"Of course I'll come." Maida's whole face sparkled. "That is, if +Granny doesn't think it's too wet." + +Rosie lingered for a few moments but she did not seem like her usual +happy-go-lucky self. And when she left, Maida noticed that instead +of running across the street she actually walked. + +All the morning long Maida talked of nothing to Granny but the +prospective meeting of the W.M.N.T.'s. "Just think, Granny, I never +belonged to a club before," she said again and again. + +Very early she had put out on her bed the clothes that she intended +to wear--a tanbrown serge of which she was particularly fond, and her +favorite "tire" of a delicate, soft lawn. She kept rushing to the +window to study the sky. It continued to look like the inside of a +dull tin cup. She would not have eaten any lunch at all if Granny +had not told her that she must. And her heart sank steadily all the +afternoon for the rain continued to come down. + +"I don't suppose I can go, Granny," she faltered when the clock +struck four. + +"Sure an you _can_," Granny responded briskly. + +But she wrapped Maida up, as Maida herself said: "As if I was one of +papa's carved crystals come all the way from China." + +First Granny put on a sweater, then a coat, then over all a +raincoat. She put a hood on her head and a veil over that. She made +her wear rubber boots and take an umbrella. Maida got into a gale of +laughter during the dressing. + +"I ought to be wrapped in excelsior now," she said. "If I fall down +in the puddle in the court, Granny," she threatened merrily, "I +never can pick myself up. I'll either have to roll and roll and roll +until I get on to dry land or I'll have to wait until somebody comes +and shovels me out." + +But she did not fall into the puddle. She walked carefully along the +edge and then ran as swiftly as her clothes and lameness would +permit. She arrived in Dicky's garret, red-cheeked and breathless. + +Arthur and Rosie had already come. Rosie was playing on the floor +with Delia and the puppy that she had rescued from the tin-can +persecution. Rosie was growling, the dog was yelping and Delia was +squealing--but all three with delight. + +Arthur and Dicky sat opposite each other, working at the round +table. + +"What do you think of that dog now, Maida?" Rosie asked proudly. +"His name is 'Tag.' You wouldn't know him for the same dog, would +you? Isn't he a nice-looking little puppy?" + +Tag did look like another dog. He wore a collar and his yellowy coat +shone like satin. His whole manner had changed. He came running over +to Maida and stood looking at her with the most spirited air in the +world, his head on one side, one paw up and one ear cocked +inquisitively. His tail wriggled so fast that Delia thinking it some +wonderful new toy, kept trying to catch it and hold it in her little +fingers. + +"He's a lovely doggie," Maida said. "I wish I'd brought Fluff." + +"And did you ever see such a dear baby," Rosie went on, hugging +Delia. "Oh, if I only had a baby brother or sister!" + +"She's a darling," Maida agreed heartily. "Babies are so much more +fun than dolls, don't you think so, Rosie?" + +"Dolls!" No words can express the contempt that was in Miss Brine's +accent. + +"What are you doing, Dicky?" Maida asked, limping over to the table. + +"Making things," Dicky said cheerfully. + +On the table were piles of mysterious-looking objects made entirely +of paper. Some were of white paper and others of brown, but they +were all decorated with trimmings of colored tissue. + +"What are they?" Maida asked. "Aren't they lovely? I never saw +anything like them in my life." + +Dicky blushed all over his face at this compliment but it was +evident that he was delighted. "Well, those are paper-boxes," he +said, pointing to the different piles of things, "and those are +steamships. Those are the old-fashioned kind with double +smokestacks. Those are double-boats, jackets, pants, badges, +nose-pinchers, lamp-lighters, firemen's caps and soldier caps." + +"Oh, that's why you buy all that colored paper," Maida said in a +tone of great satisfaction. "I've often wondered." She examined +Dicky's work carefully. She could see that it was done with +remarkable precision and skill. "Oh, what fun to do things like +that. I do wish you'd show me how to make them, Dicky. I'm such a +useless girl. I can't make a single thing." + +"I'll show you, sure," Dicky offered generously. + +"What are you making so many for?" Maida queried. + +"Well, you see it's this way," Dicky began in a business-like air. +"Arthur and Rosie and I are going to have a fair. We've had a fair +every spring and every fall for the last three years. That's how we +get our money for Christmas and the Fourth of July. Arthur whittles +things out of wood--he'll show you what he can do in a minute--he's a +crackajack. Rosie makes candy. And I make these paper things." + +"And do you make much money?" Maida asked, deeply interested. + +"Don't make any money at all," Dicky said. "The children pay us in +nails. I charge them ten nails a-piece for the easy things and twenty +nails for the hardest. Arthur can get more for his stuff because +it's harder to do." + +"But what do you want nails for?" Maida asked in bewilderment. + +"Why, nails are junk." + +"And what's junk?" + +The three children stared at her. "Don't you know what _junk_ is, +Maida?" Rosie asked in despair. + +"No." + +"Junk's old iron," Dicky explained. "And you sell it to the junkman. +Once we made forty cents out of one of these fairs. One reason we're +beginning so early this year, I've got something very particular I +want to buy my mother for a Christmas present. Can you keep a +secret, Maida?" + +Maida nodded. + +"Well, it's a fur collar for her neck. They have them down in a +store on Main street every winter--two dollars and ninetyeight cents. +It seems an awful lot but I've got over a dollar saved up. And I +guess I can do it if I work hard." + +"How much have you made ordinarily?" Maida asked thoughtfully. + +"Once we made forty cents a-piece but that's the most." + +"I tell you what you do," Maida burst out impetuously after a moment +of silence in which she considered this statement. "When the time +comes for you to hold your fair, I'll lend you my shop for a day. +I'll take all the things out of the window and I'll clean all the +shelves off and you boys can put your things there. I'll clear out +the showcases for Rosie's candy. Won't that be lovely?" She smiled +happily. + +"It would be grand business for us," Dicky said soberly, "but +somehow it doesn't seem quite fair to you." + +"Oh, please don't think of that," Maida said. "I'd just love to do +it. And you must teach me how to make things so that I can help you. +You will take the shop, Dicky?" she pleaded. "And you, Rosie? And +Arthur?" She looked from one to the other with all her heart in her +eyes. + +But nobody spoke for a moment. "It seems somehow as if we oughtn't +to," Dicky said awkwardly at last. + +Maida's lip trembled. At first she could not understand. Here she +was aching to do a kindness to these three friends of hers. And +they, for some unknown reason, would not permit it. It was not that +they disliked her, she knew. What was it? She tried to put herself +in their place. Suddenly it came to her what the difficulty was. +They did not want to be so much in her debt. How could she prevent +that? She must let them do something for her that would lessen that +debt. But what? She thought very hard. In a flash it came to her--a +plan by which she could make it all right. + +"You see," she began eagerly, "I wanted to ask you three to help me +in something, but I can't do it unless you let me help you. +Listen--the next holiday is Halloween. I want to decorate my shop +with a lot of real jack-o'-lanterns cut from pumpkins. It will be +hard work and a lot of it and I was hoping that perhaps you'd help +me with this." + +The three faces lighted up. + +"Of course we will," Dicky said heartily. + +"Gee, I bet Dicky and I could make some great lanterns," Arthur said +reflectively. + +"And I'll help you fix up the store," Rosie said with enthusiasm. "I +just love to make things look pretty." + +"It's a bargain then," Maida said. "And now you must teach me how to +help you this very afternoon, Dicky." + +They fell to work with a vim. At least three of them did. Rosie +continued to frisk with Delia and Tag on the floor. Dicky started +Maida on the caps first. He said that those were the easiest. And, +indeed she had very little trouble with anything until she came to +the boxes. She had to do her first box over and over again before it +would come right. But Dicky was very patient with her. He kept +telling her that she did better than most beginners or she would +have given it up. When she made her first good box, her face beamed +with satisfaction. + +"Do you mind if I take it home, Dicky?" she asked. "I'd like to show +it to my father when he comes. It's the first thing I ever made in +my life." + +"Of course," Dicky said. + +"Don't the other children ever try to copy your things?" Maida +asked. + +"They try to," Arthur answered, "but they never do so well as +Dicky." + +"You ought to see their nose-pinchers," Rosie laughed. "They can't +stand up straight. And their boxes and steamships are the wobbliest +things." + +"I'm going to get all kinds of stuff for things we make for the +fair," Maida said reflectively. "Gold and silver paper and colored +stars and pretty fancy pictures for trimmings. You see if you're +going to charge real money you must make them more beautiful than +those for which you only charged nails." + +"That's right," Dicky said. "By George, that will be great! You go +ahead and buy whatever you think is right, Maida, and I'll pay you +for it from what we take in at the fair." + +"That's settled. What do you whittle, Arthur?" + +"Oh, all kinds of things--things I made up myself and things I +learned how to do in sloyd in school. I make bread-boards and +rolling pins and shinny sticks and cats and little baskets out of +cherry-stones." + +"Jiminy crickets, he's forgetting the boats," Dicky burst in +enthusiastically. "He makes the dandiest boats you ever saw in your +life." + +Maida looked at Arthur in awe. "I never heard anything like it! Can +you make anything for girls?" + +"Made me a set of the darlingest dolls' furniture you ever saw in +your life," Rosie put in from the floor. + +"Say, did you get into any trouble last night?" Arthur turned +suddenly to Rosie. "I forgot to ask you." + +"Arthur and Rosie hooked jack yesterday, in all that rain," Dicky +explained to Maida. "They knew a place where they could get a whole +lot of old iron and they were afraid if they waited, it would be +gone." + +"I should say I did," Rosie answered Arthur's question. "Somebody +went and tattled to my mother. Of course, I was wet through to the +skin and that gave the whole thing away, anyway. I got the worst +scolding and mother sent me to bed without my supper. But I climbed +out the window and went over to see Maida. I don't mind! I hate +school and as long as I live I shall never go except when I want +to--never, never, never! I guess I'm not going to be shut up studying +when I'd rather be out in the open air. Wouldn't you hook jack if +you wanted to, Maida?" + +Maida did not reply for an instant. She hated to have Rosie ask this +question, point-blank for she did not want to answer it. If she said +exactly what she thought there might be trouble. And it seemed to +her that she would do almost anything rather than lose Rosie's +friendship. But Maida had been taught to believe that the truth is +the most precious thing in the world. And so she told the truth +after a while but it was with a great effort. + +"No, I wouldn't," she said. + +"Oh, that's all right for _you_ to say," Rosie said firing up. "You +don't have to go to school. You live the easiest life that anybody +can--just sitting in a chair and tending shop all day. What do you +know about it, anyway?" + +Maida's lips quivered. "It is true I don't go to school, Rosie," she +said. "But it isn't because I don't want to. I'd give anything on +earth if I could go. I watch that line of children every morning and +afternoon of my life and wish and _wish_ and WISH I was in it. And +when the windows are opened and I hear the singing and reading, it +seems as if I just couldn't stand it." + +"Oh, well," Rosie's tone was still scornful. "I don't believe, even +if you did go to school, that you'd ever do anything bad. You'd +never be anything but a fraid-cat and teacher's pet." + +"I guess I'd be so glad to be there, I'd do anything the teacher +asked," Maida said dejectedly. "I do a lot of things that bother +Granny but I guess I never have been a very naughty girl. You can't +be very naughty with your leg all crooked under you." Maida's voice +had grown bitter. The children looked at her in amazement. "But +what's the use of talking to you two," she went on. "You could never +understand. I guess Dicky knows what I mean, though." + +To their great surprise, Maida put her head down on the table and +cried. + +For a moment the room was perfectly silent. The fire snapped and +Dicky went over to look at it. He stood with his back turned to the +other children but a suspicious snuffle came from his direction. +Arthur Duncan walked to the window and stood looking out. Rosie sat +still, her eyes downcast, her little white teeth biting her red +lips. Then suddenly she jumped to her feet, ran like a whirlwind to +Maida's side. She put her arms about the bowed figure. + +"Oh, do excuse me, Maida," she begged. "I know I'm the worst girl in +the world. Everybody says so and I guess it's true. But I do love +you and I wouldn't have hurt your feelings for anything. I don't +believe you'd be a fraid-cat or teacher's pet--I truly don't. Please +excuse me." + +Maida wiped her tears away. "Of course I'll excuse you! But just the +same, Rosie, I hope you won't hook jack any more for someday you'll +be sorry." + +"I'm going to make some candy now," Rosie said, adroitly changing +the subject. "I brought some molasses and butter and everything I +need." She began to bustle about the stove. Soon they were all +laughing again. + +Maida had never pulled candy before and she thought it the most +enchanting fun in the world. It was hard to keep at work, though, +when it was such a temptation to stop and eat it. But she persevered +and succeeded in pulling hers whiter than anybody's. She laughed and +talked so busily that, when she started to put on her things, all +traces of tears had disappeared. + +The rain had stopped. The puddle was of monster size after so long a +storm. They came out just in time to help Molly fish Tim out of the +water and to prevent Betsy from giving a stray kitten a bath. +Following Rosie and Arthur, Maida waded through it from one end to +the other--it seemed the most perilous of adventures to her. + +After that meeting, the W.M.N.T.'s were busier than they had ever +been. Every other afternoon, and always when it was bad weather, +they worked at Maida's house. Granny gave Maida a closet all to +herself and as fast as the things were finished they were put in +boxes and stowed away on its capacious shelves. + +Arthur whittled and carved industriously. His work went slower than +Dicky's of course but, still, it went with remarkable quickness. +Maida often stopped her own work on the paper things to watch +Arthur's. It was a constant marvel to her that such big, +awkward-looking hands could perform feats of such delicacy. Her +own fingers, small and delicate as they were, bungled surprisingly +at times. + +"And as for the paste," Maida said in disgust to Rosie one day, +"you'd think that I fell into the paste-pot every day. I wash it off +my hands and face. I pick it off of my clothes and sometimes Granny +combs it out of my hair." + +Often after dinner, the W.M.N.T.'s would call in a body on Maida. +Then would follow long hours of such fun that Maida hated to hear +the clock strike nine. Always there would be molasses-candy making +by the capable Rosie at the kitchen stove and corn-popping by the +vigorous Arthur on the living-room hearth. After the candy had +cooled and the pop corn had been flooded in melted butter, they +would gather about the hearth to roast apples and chestnuts and to +listen to the fairy-tales that Maida would read. + +The one thing which she could do and they could not was to read with +the ease and expression of a grown person. As many of her books were +in French as in English and it was the wonder of the other +W.M.N.T.'s that she could read a French story, translating as she +went. Her books were a delight to Arthur and Dicky and she lent them +freely. Rosie liked to listen to stories but she did not care to +read. + +Maida was very happy nowadays. Laura was the only person in the +Court who had caused her any uneasiness. Since the day that Laura +had made herself so disagreeable, Maida had avoided her steadily. +Best of all, perhaps, Maida's health had improved so much that even +her limp was slowly disappearing. + +In the course of time, the children taught Maida the secret language +of the W.M.N.T.'s. They could hold long conversations that were +unintelligible to anybody else. When at first they used it in fun +before Maida, she could not understand a word. After they had +explained it to her, she wondered that she had ever been puzzled. + +"It's as easy as anything," Rosy said. "You take off the first sound +of a word and put it on the end with an _ay_ added to it like +MAN--an-may. BOY--oy-bay. GIRL--irl-gay. When a word is just one sound +like I or O, or when it begins with a vowel like EEL or US or OUT, +you add _way_, like I--I-way. O--O-way. EEL--eel-way. US--us-way. +OUT--out-way." + +Thus Maida could say to Rosie: + +"Are-way ou-yay oing-gay o-tay ool-schay o-tay ay-day?" and mean +simply, "Are you going to school to-day?" + +And sometimes to Maida's grief, Rosie would reply roguishly: + +"O-nay I-way am-way oing-gay o-tay ook-hay ack-jay ith-way +Arthur-way." + +Billy Potter was finally invited to join the W.M.N.T.'s too. He +never missed a meeting if he could possibly help it. + +"Why do you call Maida, 'Petronilla'?" Dicky asked him curiously one +day when Maida had run home for more paper. + +"Petronilla is the name of a little girl in a fairy-tale that I read +when I was a little boy," Billy answered. + +"And was she like Maida?" Arthur asked. + +"Very." + +"How?" Rosie inquired. + +"Petronilla had a gold star set in her forehead by a fairy when she +was a baby," Billy explained. "It was a magic star. Nobody but +fairies could see it but it was always there. Anybody who came +within the light of Petronilla's star, no matter how wicked or +hopeless or unhappy he was, was made better and hopefuller and +happier." + +Nobody spoke for an instant. + +Then, "I guess Maida's got the star all right," Dicky said. + +Billy was very interested in the secret language. At first when they +talked this gibberish before him, he listened mystified. But to +their great surprise he never asked a question. They went right on +talking as if he were not present. In an interval of silence, Billy +said softly: + +"I-way onder-way if-way I-way ought-bay a-way uart-quay of-way +ice-way-eam-cray, ese-thay ildren-chay ould-way eat-way it-way." + +For a moment nobody could speak. Then a deafening, "es-yay!" was +shouted at the top of four pairs of lungs. + + + + + + CHAPTER X: PLAY + + +But although the W.M.N.T.'s worked very hard, you must not suppose +that they left no time to play. Indeed, the weather was so fine that +it was hard to stay in the house. The beautiful Indian summer had +come and each new day dawned more perfect than the last. The trees +had become so gorgeous that it was as if the streets were lined with +burning torches. Whenever a breeze came, they seemed to flicker and +flame and flare. Maida and Rosie used to shuffle along the gutters +gathering pocketsful of glossy horse-chestnuts and handfuls of +gorgeous leaves. + +Sometimes it seemed to Maida that she did not need to play, that +there was fun enough in just being out-of-doors. But she did play a +great deal for she was well enough to join in all the fun now and it +seemed to her that she never could get enough of any one game. + +She would play house and paper-dolls and ring-games with the little +children in the morning when the older ones were in school. She +would play jackstones with the bigger girls in the afternoon. She +would play running games with the crowd of girls and boys, of whom +the W.M.N.T.'s were the leaders, towards night. Then sometimes she +would grumble to Granny because the days were so short. + +Of all the games, Hoist-the-Sail was her favorite. She often served +as captain on her side. But whether she called or awaited the cry, +"Liberty poles are bending--hoist the sail!" a thrill ran through her +that made her blood dance. + +"It's no use in talking, Granny," Maida said joyfully one day. "My +leg is getting stronger. I jumped twenty jumps to-day without +stopping." + +After that her progress was rapid. She learned to jump in the rope +with Rosie. + +They were a pretty sight. People passing often gave them more than +one glance--Rosie so vivid and sparkling, in the scarlet cape and hat +all velvety jet-blacks, satiny olives and brilliant crimsons--Maida +slim, delicate, fairy-like in her long squirrel-coat and cap, her +airy ringlets streaming in the breeze and the eyes that had once +been so wistful now shining with happiness. + +"Do you know what you look like, Maida?" Rosie said once. Before +Maida could answer, she went on. "You look like that little mermaid +princess in Anderson's fairy tales--the one who had to suffer so to +get legs like mortals." + +"Do I?" Maida laughed. "Now isn't it strange I have always thought +that you look like somebody in a fairy tale, too. You're like +Rose-Red in 'Rose-Red and Snow-White.' I think," she added, flushing, +for she was a little afraid that it was not polite to say things like +this, "that you are the beautifulest girl I ever saw." + +"Why, that's just what I think of you," Rosie said in surprise. + +"I just love black hair," Maida said. + +"And I just adore golden hair," Rosie said. "Now, isn't that +strange?" + +"I guess," Maida announced after a moment of thought, "people like +what they haven't got." + +After a while, Rosie taught Maida to jump in the big rope with a +half a dozen children at once. Maida never tired of this. When she +heard the rope swishing through the air, a kind of excitement came +over her. She was proud to think that she had caught the trick--that +something inside would warn her when to jump--that she could be sure +that this warning would not come an instant too soon or too late. +The consciousness of a new strength and a new power made a different +child of her. It made her eyes sparkle like gray diamonds. It made +her cheeks glow like pink peonies. + +By this time she could spin tops with the best of them--sometimes she +had five tops going at once. This was a sport of which the +W.M.N.T.'s never tired. They kept it up long into the twilight. +Sometimes Granny would have to ring the dinner-bell a half a dozen +times before Maida appeared. Maida did not mean to be disobedient. +She simply did not hear the bell. Granny's scoldings for this +carelessness were very gentle--Maida's face was too radiant with her +triumph in this new skill. + +There was something about Primrose Court--the rows of trees welded +into a yellow arch high over their heads, the sky showing through in +diamond-shaped glints of blue, the tiny trim houses and their +tinier, trimmer yards, the doves pink-toeing everywhere, their +throats bubbling color as wonderful as the old Venetian glass in the +Beacon Street house, the children running and shouting, the very +smell of the dust which their pattering feet threw up--something in +the look of all this made Maida's spirits leap. + +"I'm happy, _happy_, HAPPY," Maida said one day. The next--Rosie came +rushing into the shop with a frightened face. + +"Oh, Maida," she panted, "a terrible thing has happened. Laura +Lathrop's got diphtheria--they say she's going to die." + +"Oh, Rosie, how dreadful! Who told you so?" + +"Annie the cook told Aunt Theresa. Dr. Ames went there three times +yesterday. Annie says Mrs. Lathrop looks something awful." + +"The poor, poor woman," Granny murmured compassionately. + +"Oh, I'm so sorry I was cross to Laura," Maida said, +conscience-stricken. "Oh, I do hope she won't die." + +"It must be dreadful for Laura," Rosie continued, "Harold can't go +near her. Nobody goes into the room but her mother and the nurse." + +The news cast a deep gloom over the Court. The little +children--Betsy, Molly and Tim played as usual for they could not +understand the situation. But the noisy fun of the older children +ceased entirely. They gathered on the corner and talked in low +voices, watching with dread any movement in the Lathrop house. For a +week or more Primrose Court was the quietest spot in the +neighborhood. + +"They say she's sinking," Rosie said that first night. + +The thought of it colored Maida's dreams. + +"She's got through the night all right," Rosie reported in the +morning, her face shining with hope. "And they think she's a little +better." But late the next afternoon, Rosie appeared again, her face +dark with dread, "Laura's worse again." + +Two or three days passed. Sometimes Laura was better. Oftener she +was worse. Dr. Ames's carriage seemed always to be driving into the +Court. + +"Annie says she's dying," Rosie retailed despairingly. "They don't +think she'll live through the night. Oh, won't it be dreadful to +wake up to-morrow and find the crape on the door." + +The thought of what she might see in the morning kept Maida awake a +long time that night. When she arose her first glance was for the +Lathrop door. There was no crape. + +"No better," Rosie dropped in to say on her way to school "but," she +added hopefully, "she's no worse." + +Maida watched the Lathrop house all day, dreading to see the +undertaker's wagon drive up. But it did not come--not that day, nor +the next, nor the next. + +"They think she's getting better," Rosie reported joyfully one day. + +And gradually Laura did get better. But it was many days before she +was well enough to sit up. + +"Mrs. Lathrop says," Rosie burst in one day with an excited face, +"that if we all gather in front of the house to-morrow at one +o'clock, she'll lift Laura up to the window so that we can see her. +She says Laura is crazy to see us all." + +"Oh, Rosie, I'm so glad!" Maida exclaimed, delighted. Seizing each +other by the waist, the two little girls danced about the room. + +"Oh, I'm going to be so good to Laura when she gets well," Maida +said. + +"So am I," Rosie declared with equal fervor. "The last thing I ever +said to her was that she was 'a hateful little smarty-cat.'" + +Five minutes before one, the next day, all the children in Primrose +Court gathered on the lawn in front of Laura's window. Maida led +Molly by one hand and Tim by the other. Rosie led Betsy and Delia. +Dorothy Clark held Fluff and Mabel held Tag. Promptly at one +o'clock, Mrs. Lathrop appeared at the window, carrying a little, +thin, white wisp of a girl, all muffled up in a big shawl. + +The children broke into shouts of joy. The boys waved their hats and +the girls their handkerchiefs. Tag barked madly and Rosie declared +afterwards that even Fluff looked excited. But Maida stood still +with the tears streaming down her cheeks--Laura's face looked so +tiny, her eyes so big and sad. From her own experience, Maida could +guess how weak Laura felt. + +Laura stayed only an instant at the window. One feeble wave of her +claw-like hand and she was gone. + +"Annie says Mrs. Lathrop is worn to a shadow trying to find things +to entertain Laura," Rosie said one night to Maida and Billy Potter. +"She's read all her books to her and played all her games with her +and Laura keeps saying she wished she had something new." + +"Oh, I do wish we could think of something to do for her," Maida +said wistfully. "I know just how she feels. If I could only think of +a new toy--but Laura has everything. And then the trouble with toys +is that after you've played with them once, there's no more fun in +them. I know what that is. If we all had telephones, we could talk +to her once in a while. But even that would tire her, I guess." + +Billy jumped. "I know what we can do for Laura," he said. "I'll have +to have Mrs. Lathrop's permission though." He seized his hat and +made for the door. "I'd better see her about it to-night." The door +slammed. + +It had all happened so suddenly that the children gazed after him +with wide-open mouths and eyes. + +"What do you suppose it's going to be, Maida?" Rosie asked finally. + +"I don't know," Maida answered. "I haven't the least idea. But if +Billy makes it, you may be sure it will be wonderful." + +When Billy came back, they asked him a hundred questions. But they +could not get a word out of him in regard to the new toy. + +He appeared at the shop early the next morning with a suit-case full +of bundles. Then followed doings that, for a long time, were a +mystery to everybody. A crowd of excited children followed him +about, asking him dozens of questions and chattering frantically +among themselves. + +First, he opened one of the bundles--out dropped eight little +pulleys. Second, he went up into Maida's bedroom and fastened one of +the little pulleys on the sill outside her window. Third, he did the +same thing in Rosie's house, in Arthur's and in Dicky's. Fourth, he +fastened four of the little pulleys at the playroom window in the +Lathrop house. + +"Oh, what is he doing?" "I can't think of anything." "Oh, I wish +he'd tell us," came from the children who watched these manoeuvres +from the street. + +Fifth, Billy opened another bundle--this time, out came four coils of +a thin rope. + +"I know now," Arthur called up to him, "but I won't tell." + +Billy grinned. + +And, sure enough, "You watch him," was all Arthur would say to the +entreaties of his friends. + +Sixth, Billy ran a double line of rope between Maida's and Laura's +window, a second between Rosie's and Laura's, a third between +Arthur's and Laura's, a fourth between Dicky's and Laura's. + +Last, Billy opened another bundle. Out dropped four square tin +boxes, each with a cover and a handle. + +"I've guessed it! I've guessed it!" Maida and Rosie screamed +together. "It's a telephone." + +"That's the answer," Billy confessed. He went from house to house +fastening a box to the lower rope. + +"Now when you want to say anything to Laura," he said on his return, +"just write a note, put it in the box, pull on the upper string and +it will sail over to her window. Suppose you all run home and write +something now. I'll go over to Laura's to see how it works." + +The children scattered. In a few moments, four excited little faces +appeared at as many windows. The telephone worked perfectly. Billy +handed Mrs. Lathrop the notes to deliver to Laura. + +"Oh, Mr. Potter," Mrs. Lathrop said suddenly, "there's a matter that +I wished to speak to you about. That little Flynn girl has lived in +the family of Mr. Jerome Westabrook, hasn't she?" + +Billy's eyes "skrinkled up." "Yes, Mrs. Lathrop," he admitted, "she +lived in the Westabrook family for several years." + +"So I guessed," Mrs. Lathrop said. "She's a very sweet little girl," +she went on earnestly for she had been touched by the sight of +Maida's grief the day that she held Laura to the window. "I hope Mr. +Westabrook's own little girl is as sweet." + +"She is, Mrs. Lathrop, I assure you she is," Billy said gravely. + +"What is the name of the Westabrook child?" + +"Elizabeth Fairfax Westabrook." + +"What is she like?" + +"She's a good deal like Maida," Billy said, his eyes beginning to +"skrinkle up" again. "They could easily pass for sisters." + +"I suppose that's why the Westabrooks have been so good to the +little Flynn girl," Mrs. Lathrop went on, "for they certainly are +very good to her. It is quite evident that Maida's clothes belonged +once to the little Westabrook girl." + +"You are quite right, Mrs. Lathrop. They were made for the little +Westabrook girl." + +Mrs. Lathrop always declared afterwards that it was the telephone +that really cured Laura. Certainly, it proved to be the most +exciting of toys to the little invalid. There was always something +waiting for her when she waked up in the morning and the tin boxes +kept bobbing from window to window until long after dark. The girls +kept her informed of what was going on in the neighborhood and the +boys sent her jokes and conundrums and puzzle pictures cut from the +newspapers. Gifts came to her at all hours. Sometimes it would be a +bit of wood-carving--a grotesque face, perhaps--that Arthur had done. +Sometimes it was a bit of Dicky's pretty paper-work. Rosie sent her +specimens of her cooking from candy to hot roasted potatoes, and +Maida sent her daily translations of an exciting fairy tale which +she was reading in French for the first time. + +Pretty soon Laura was well enough to answer the notes herself. She +wrote each of her correspondents a long, grateful and affectionate +letter. By and by, she was able to sit in a chair at the window and +watch the games. The children remembered every few moments to look +and wave to her and she always waved back. At last came the morning +when a very thin, pale Laura was wheeled out into the sunshine. +After that she grew well by leaps and bounds. In a day or two, she +could stand in the ring-games with the little children. By the end +of a week, she seemed quite herself. + +One morning every child in Primrose Court received a letter in the +mail. It was written on gay-tinted paper with a pretty picture at +the top. It read: + + "You are cordially invited to a Halloween party to be given by + Miss Laura Lathrop at 29 Primrose Court on Saturday evening, + October 31, at a half after seven." + + ---------------------- + +But as Maida ceased gradually to worry about Laura, she began to be +troubled about Rosie. For Rosie was not the same child. Much of the +time she was silent, moody and listless. + +One afternoon she came over to the shop, bringing the Clark twins +with her. For awhile she and Maida played "house" with the little +girls. Suddenly, Rosie tired of this game and sent the children +home. Then for a time, she frolicked with Fluff while Maida read +aloud. As suddenly as she had stopped playing "house" she +interrupted Maida. + +"Don't read any more," she commanded, "I want to talk with you." + +Maida had felt the whole afternoon that there was something on +Rosie's mind for whenever the scowl came between Rosie's eyebrows, +it meant trouble. Maida closed her book and sat waiting. + +"Maida," Rosie asked, "do you remember your mother?" + +"Oh, yes," Maida answered, "perfectly. She was very beautiful. I +could not forget her any more than a wonderful picture. She used to +come and kiss me every night before she went to dinner with papa. +She always smelled so sweet--whenever I see any flowers, I think of +her. And she wore such beautiful dresses and jewels. She loved +sparkly things, I guess--sometimes she looked like a fairy queen. +Once she had a new lace gown all made of roses of lace and she had a +diamond fastened in every rose to make it look like dew. When her +hair was down, it came to her knees. She let me brush it sometimes +with her gold brush." + +"A gold brush," Rosie said in an awed tone. + +"Yes, it was gold with her initials in diamonds on it. Papa gave her +a whole set one birthday." + +"How old were you when she died?" Rosie asked after a pause in which +her scowl grew deeper. + +"Eight." + +"What did she die of?" + +"I don't know," Maida answered. "You see I was so little that I +didn't understand about dying. I had never heard of it. They told me +one day that my mother had gone away. I used to ask every day when +she was coming back and they'd say 'next week' and 'next week' and +'next week' until one day I got so impatient that I cried. Then they +told me that my mother was living far away in a beautiful country +and she would never come back. They said that I must not cry for she +still loved me and was always watching over me. It was a great +comfort to know that and of course I never cried after that for fear +of worrying her. But at first it was very lonely. Why, Rosie--" She +stopped terrified. "What's the matter?" + +Rosie had thrown herself on the couch, and was crying bitterly. "Oh, +Maida," she sobbed, "that's exactly what they say to me when I ask +them--'next week' and 'next week' and 'next week' until I'm sick of +it. My mother is dead and I know it." + +"Oh, Rosie!" Maida protested. "Oh no, no, no--your mother is not +dead. I can't believe it. I won't believe it." + +"She is," Rosie persisted. "I know she is. Oh, what shall I do? +Think how naughty I was! What shall I do?" She sobbed so +convulsively that Maida was frightened. + +"Listen, Rosie," she said. "You don't _know_ your mother is dead. +And I for one don't believe that she is." + +"But they said the same thing to you," Rosie protested passionately. + +"I think it was because I was sick," Maida said after a moment in +which she thought the matter out. "They were afraid that I might die +if they told me the truth. But whether your mother is alive or dead, +the only way you can make up for being naughty is to be as good to +your Aunt Theresa as you can. Oh, Rosie, please go to school every +day." + +"Do you suppose I could ever hook jack again?" Rosie asked bitterly. +She dried her eyes. "I guess I'll go home now," she said, "and see +if I can help Aunt Theresa with the supper. And I'm going to get her +to teach me how to cook everything so that I can help mother--if she +ever comes home." + +The next day Rosie came into the shop with the happiest look that +she had worn for a long time. + +"I peeled the potatoes for Aunt Theresa, last night," she announced, +"and set the table and wiped the dishes. She was real surprised. She +asked me what had got into me?" + +"I'm glad," Maida approved. + +"I asked her when mother was coming back and she said the same +thing, 'Next week, I think.'" Rosie's lip quivered. + +"I think she'll come back, Rosie," Maida insisted. "And now let's +not talk any more about it. Let's come out to play." + +Mindful of her own lecture on obedience to Rosie, Maida skipped home +the first time Granny rang the bell. + +Granny met her at the door. Her eyes were shining with mischief. +"You've got a visitor," she said. Maida could see that she was +trying to keep her lips prim at the corners. She wondered who it +was. Could it be-- + +She ran into the living-room. Her father jumped up from the +easy-chair to meet her. + +"Well, well, well, Miss Rosy-Cheeks. No need to ask how you are!" he +said kissing her. + +"Oh papa, papa, I never was so happy in all my life. If you could +only be here with me all the time, there wouldn't be another thing +in the world that I wanted. Don't you think you could give up Wall +Street and come to live in this Court? You might open a shop too. +Papa, I know you'd make a good shop-keeper although it isn't so easy +as a lot of people think. But I'd teach you all I know--and, then, +it's such fun. You could have a big shop for I know just how you +like big things--just as I like little ones." + +"Buffalo" Westabrook laughed. "I may have to come to it yet but it +doesn't look like it this moment. My gracious, Posie, how you have +improved! I never would know you for the same child. Where did you +get those dimples? I never saw them in your face before. Your mother +had them, though." + +The shadow, that the mention of her mother's name always brought, +darkened his face. "How you are growing to look like her!" he said. + +Maida knew that she must not let him stay sad. "Dimples!" she +squealed. "Really, papa?" She ran over to the mirror, climbed up on +a chair and peeked in. Her face fell. "I don't see any," she said +mournfully. + +"And you're losing your limp," Mr. Westabrook said. Then catching +sight of her woe-begone face, he laughed. "That's because you've +stopped smiling, you little goose," he said. "Grin and you'll see +them." + +Obedient, Maida grinned so hard that it hurt. But the grin softened +to a smile of perfect happiness. For, sure enough, pricking through +the round of her soft, pink cheeks, were a pair of tiny hollows. + + + + + + CHAPTER XI: HALLOWEEN + + +Halloween fell on Saturday that year. That made Friday a very busy +time for Maida and the other members of the W.M.N.T. In the +afternoon, they all worked like beavers making jack-o'-lanterns of +the dozen pumpkins that Granny had ordered. Maida and Rosie and +Dicky hollowed and scraped them. Arthur did all the hard work--the +cutting out of the features, the putting-in of candle-holders. These +pumpkin lanterns were for decoration. But Maida had ordered many +paper jack-o'-lanterns for sale. The W.M.N.T.'s spent the evening +rearranging the shop. Maida went to bed so tired that she could +hardly drag one foot after the other. Granny had to undress her. + +But when the school-children came flocking in the next morning, she +felt more than repaid for her work. The shop resounded with the "Oh +mys," and "Oh looks," of their surprise and delight. + +Indeed, the room seemed full of twinkling yellow faces. Lines of +them grinned in the doorway. Rows of them smirked from the shelves. +A frieze, close-set as peas in a pod, grimaced from the molding. The +jolly-looking pumpkin jacks, that Arthur had made, were piled in a +pyramid in the window. The biggest of them all--"he looks just like +the man in the moon," Rosie said--smiled benignantly at the +passers-by from the top of the heap. Standing about everywhere among +the lanterns were groups of little paper brownies, their tiny heads +turned upwards as if, in the greatest astonishment, they were +examining these monster beings. + +The jack-o'-lanterns sold like hot cakes. As for the brownies, +"Granny, you'd think they were marching off the shelves!" Maida +said. By dark, she was diving breathlessly into her surplus stock. +At the first touch of twilight, she lighted every lantern left in +the place. Five minutes afterwards, a crowd of children had gathered +to gaze at the flaming faces in the window. Even the grown-ups +stopped to admire the effect. + +More customers came and more--a great many children whom Maida had +never seen before. By six o'clock, she had sold out her entire +stock. When she sat down to dinner that night, she was a very happy +little girl. + +"This is the best day I've had since I opened the shop," she said +contentedly. She was not tired, though. "I feel just like going to a +party to-night. Granny, can I wear my prettiest Roman sash?" + +"You can wear annyt'ing you want, my lamb," Granny said, "for 'tis +the good, busy little choild you've been this day." + +Granny dressed her according to Maida's choice, in white. A very, +simple, soft little frock, it was, with many tiny tucks made by hand +and many insertions of a beautiful, fine lace. Maida chose to wear +with it pale blue silk stockings and slippers, a sash of blue, +striped in pink and white, a string of pink Venetian beads. + +"Now, Granny, I'll read until the children call for me," she +suggested, "so I won't rumple my dress." + +But she was too excited to read. She sat for a long time at the +window, just looking out. Presently the jack-o'-lanterns, lighted +now, began to make blobs of gold in the furry darkness of the +street. She could not at first make out who held them. It was +strange to watch the fiery, grinning heads, flying, bodiless, from +place to place. But she identified the lanterns in the court by the +houses from which they emerged. The three small ones on the end at +the left meant Dicky and Molly and Tim. Two big ones, mounted on +sticks, came from across the way--Rosie and Arthur, of course. Two, +just alike, trotting side by side betrayed the Clark twins. A +baby-lantern, swinging close to the ground--that could be nobody but +Betsy. + +The crowd in the Court began to march towards the shop. For an +instant, Maida watched the spots of brilliant color dancing in her +direction. Then she slipped into her coat, and seized her own +lantern. When she came outside, the sidewalk seemed crowded with +grotesque faces, all laughing at her. + +"Just think," she said, "I have never been to a Halloween party in +my life." + +"You are the queerest thing, Maida," Rosie said in perplexity. +"You've been to Europe. You can talk French and Italian. And yet, +you've never been to a Halloween party. Did you ever hang +May-baskets?" + +Maida shook her head. + +"You wait until next May," Rosie prophesied gleefully. + +The crowd crossed over into the Court Two motionless, yellow faces, +grinning at them from the Lathrop steps, showed that Laura and +Harold had come out to meet them. On the lawn they broke into an +impromptu game of tag which the jack-o'-lanterns seemed to enjoy as +much as the children: certainly, they whizzed from place to place as +quickly and, certainly, they smiled as hard. + +The game ended, they left their lanterns on the piazza and trooped +into the house. + +"We've got to play the first games in the kitchen," Laura announced +after the coats and hats had come off and Mrs. Lathrop had greeted +them all. + +Maida wondered what sort of party it was that was held in the +kitchen but she asked no questions. Almost bursting with curiosity, +she joined the long line marching to the back of the house. + +In the middle of the kitchen floor stood a tub of water with apples +floating in it. + +"Bobbing for apples!" the children exclaimed. "Oh, that's the +greatest fun of all. Did you ever bob for apples, Maida?" + +"No." + +"Let Maida try it first, then," Laura said. "It's very easy, Maida," +she went on with twinkling eyes. "All you have to do is to kneel on +the floor, clasp your hands behind you, and pick out one of the +apples with your teeth. You'll each be allowed three minutes." + +"Oh, I can get a half a dozen in three minutes, I guess," Maida +said. + +Laura tied a big apron around Maida's waist and stood, watch in +hand. The children gathered in a circle about the tub. Maida knelt +on the floor, clasped her hands behind her and reached with a +wide-open mouth for the nearest apple. But at the first touch of her +lips, the apple bobbed away. She reached for another. That bobbed +away, too. Another and another and another--they all bobbed clean out +of her reach, no matter how delicately she touched them. That method +was unsuccessful. + +"One minute," called Laura. + +Maida could hear the children giggling at her. She tried another +scheme, making vicious little dabs at the apples. Her beads and her +hair-ribbon and one of her long curls dipped into the water. But she +only succeeded in sending the apples spinning across the tub. + +"Two minutes!" called Laura. + +"Why don't you get those half a dozen," the children jeered. "You +know you said it was so easy." + +Maida giggled too. But inwardly, she made up her mind that she would +get one of those apples if she dipped her whole head into the tub. +At last a brilliant idea occurred to her. Using her chin as a guide, +she poked a big rosy apple over against the side of the tub. Wedging +it there against another big apple, she held it tight. Then she +dropped her head a little, gave a sudden big bite and arose amidst +applause, with the apple secure between her teeth. + +After that she had the fun of watching the other children. The older +ones were adepts. In three minutes, Rosie secured four, Dicky five +and Arthur six. Rosie did not get a drop of water on her but the +boys emerged with dripping heads. The little children were not very +successful but they were more fun. Molly swallowed so much water +that she choked and had to be patted on the back. Betsy after a few +snaps of her little, rosebud mouth, seized one of the apples with +her hand, sat down on the floor and calmly ate it. But the climax +was reached when Tim Doyle suddenly lurched forward and fell +headlong into the tub. + +"I knew he'd fall in," Molly said in a matter-of-fact voice. "He +always falls into everything. I brought a dry set of clothes for +him. Come, Tim!" + +At this announcement, everybody shrieked. Molly disappeared with Tim +in the direction of Laura's bedroom. When she reappeared, sure +enough, Tim had a dry suit on. + +Next Laura ordered them to sit about the kitchen-table. She gave +each child an apple and a knife and directed him to pare the apple +without breaking the peel. If you think that is an easy thing to do, +try it. It seemed to Maida that she never would accomplish it. She +spoiled three apples before she succeeded. + +"Now take your apple-paring and form in line across the +kitchen-floor," Laura commanded. + +The flock scampered to obey her. + +"Now when I say 'Three!'" she continued, "throw the parings back +over your shoulder to the floor. If the paring makes a letter, it +will be the initial of your future husband or wife. One! _Two_! +THREE!" + +A dozen apple-parings flew to the floor. Everybody raced across the +room to examine the results. + +"Mine is B," Dicky said. + +"And mine's an O," Rosie declared, "as plain as anything. What's +yours, Maida?" + +"It's an X," Maida answered in great perplexity. "I don't believe +that there are any names beginning with X except Xenophon and +Xerxes." + +"Well, mine's as bad," Laura laughed, "it's a Z. I guess I'll be +Mrs. Zero." + +"That's nothing," Arthur laughed, "mine's an &--I can't marry anybody +named ----'and.'" + +"Well, if that isn't successful," Laura said, "there's another way +of finding out who your husband or wife's going to be. You must walk +down the cellar-stairs backwards with a candle in one hand and a +mirror in the other. You must look in the mirror all the time and, +when you get to the foot of the stairs, you will see, reflected in +it, the face of your husband or wife." + +This did not interest the little children but the big ones were wild +to try it. + +"Gracious, doesn't it sound scary?" Rosie said, her great eyes +snapping. "I love a game that's kind of spooky, don't you, Maida?" + +Maida did not answer. She was watching Harold who was sneaking out +of the room very quietly from a door at the side. + +"All right, then, Rosie," Laura caught her up, "you can go first." + +The children all crowded over to the door leading to the cellar. The +stairs were as dark as pitch. Rosie took the mirror and the candle +that Laura handed her and slipped through the opening. The little +audience listened breathless. + +They heard Rosie stumble awkwardly down the stairs, heard her pause +at the foot. Next came a moment of silence, of waiting as tense +above as below. Then came a burst of Rosie's jolly laughter. She +came running up to them, her cheeks like roses, her eyes like stars. + +They crowded around her. "What did you see?" "Tell us about it?" +they clamored. + +Rosie shook her head. "No, no, no," she maintained, "I'm not going +to tell you what I saw until you've been down yourself." + +It was Arthur's turn next. They listened again. The same thing +happened--awkward stumbling down the stairs, a pause, then a roar of +laughter. + +"Oh what did you see?" they implored when he reappeared. + +"Try it yourself!" he advised. "I'm not going to tell." + +Dicky went next. Again they all listened and to the same mysterious +doings. Dicky came back smiling but, like the others, he refused to +describe his experiences. + +Now it was Maida's turn. She took the candle and the mirror from +Dicky and plunged into the shivery darkness of the stairs. It was +doubly difficult for her to go down backwards because of her +lameness. But she finally arrived at the bottom and stood there +expectantly. It seemed a long time before anything happened. +Suddenly, she felt something stir back of her. A lighted +jack-o'-lantern came from between the folds of a curtain which hung +from the ceiling. It grinned over her shoulder at her face in the +mirror. + +Maida burst into a shriek of laughter and scrambled upstairs. "I'm +going to marry a jack-o'-lantern," she said. "My name's going to be +Mrs. Jack Pumpkin." + +"I'm going to marry Laura's sailor-doll," Rosie confessed. "My name +is Mrs. Yankee Doodle." + +"I'm going to marry Laura's big doll, Queenie," Arthur admitted. + +"And I'm going to marry Harold's Teddy-bear," Dicky said. + +After that they blew soap-bubbles and roasted apples and chestnuts, +popped corn and pulled candy at the great fireplace in the playroom. +And at Maida's request, just before they left, Laura danced for +them. + +"Will you help me to get on my costume, Maida?" Laura asked. + +"Of course," Maida said, wondering. + +"I asked you to come down here, Maida," Laura said when the two +little girls were alone, "because I wanted to tell you that I am +sorry for the way I treated you just before I got diphtheria. I told +my mother about it and she said I did those things because I was +coming down sick. She said that people are always fretty and cross +when they're not well. But I don't think it was all that. I guess I +did it on purpose just to be disagreeable. But I hope you will +excuse me." + +"Of course I will, Laura," Maida said heartily. "And I hope you will +forgive me for going so long without speaking to you. But you see I +heard," she stopped and hesitated, "things," she ended lamely. + +"Oh, I know what you heard. I said those things about you to the +W.M.N.T.'s so that they'd get back to you. I wanted to hurt your +feelings." Laura in her turn stopped and hesitated for an instant. +"I was jealous," she finally confessed in a burst. "But I want you +to understand this, Maida. I didn't believe those horrid things +myself. I always have a feeling inside when people are telling lies +and I didn't have that feeling when you were talking to me. I knew +you were telling the truth. And all the time while I was getting +well, I felt so dreadfully about it that I knew I never would be +happy again unless I told you so." + +"I did feel bad when I heard those things," Maida said, "but of +course I forgot about them when Rosie told me you were ill. Let's +forget all about it again." + +But Maida told the W.M.N.T.'s something of her talk with Laura and +the result was an invitation to Laura to join the club. It was +accepted gratefully. + +The next month went by on wings. It was a busy month although in a +way, it was an uneventful one. The weather kept clear and fine. +Little rain fell but, on the other hand, to the great disappointment +of the little people of Primrose Court, there was no snow. Maida saw +nothing of her father for business troubles kept him in New York. He +wrote constantly to her and she wrote as faithfully to him. Letters +could not quite fill the gap that his absence made. Perhaps Billy +suspected Maida's secret loneliness for he came oftener and oftener +to see her. + +One night the W.M.N.T.'s begged so hard for a story that he finally +began one called "The Crystal Ball." A wonderful thing about it was +that it was half-game and half-story. Most wonderful of all, it went +on from night to night and never showed any signs of coming to an +end. But in order to play this game-story, there were two or three +conditions to which you absolutely must submit. For instance, it +must always be played in the dark. And first, everybody must shut +his eyes tight. Billy would say in a deep voice, "Abracadabra!" and, +presto, there they all were, Maida, Rosie, Laura, Billy, Arthur and +Dicky inside the crystal ball. What people lived there and what +things happened to them can not be told here. But after an hour or +more, Billy's deepest voice would boom, "Abracadabra!" again and, +presto, there they all were again, back in the cheerful living-room. + +Maida hoped against hope that her father would come to spend +Thanksgiving with her but that, he wrote finally, was impossible. +Billy came, however, and they three enjoyed one of Granny's +delicious turkey dinners. + +"I hoped that I would have found your daughter Annie by this time, +Granny," Billy said. "I ask every Irishman I meet if he came from +Aldigarey, County Sligo or if he knows anybody who did, or if he's +ever met a pretty Irish girl by the name of Annie Flynn. But I'll +find her yet--you'll see." + +"I hope so, Misther Billy," Granny said respectfully. But Maida +thought her voice sounded as if she had no great hope. + +Dicky still continued to come for his reading-lessons, although +Maida could see that, in a month or two, he would not need a +teacher. The quiet, studious, pale little boy had become a great +favorite with Granny Flynn. + +"Sure an' Oi must be after getting over to see the poor lad's mother +some noight," she said. "'Tis a noice woman she must be wid such a +pretty-behaved little lad." + +"Oh, she is, Granny," Maida said earnestly. "I've been there once or +twice when Mrs. Dore came home early. And she's just the nicest lady +and so fond of Dicky and the baby." + +But Granny was old and very easily tired and, so, though her +intentions were of the best, she did not make this call. + +One afternoon, after Thanksgiving, Maida ran over to Dicky's to +borrow some pink tissue paper. She knocked gently. Nobody answered. +But from the room came the sound of sobbing. Maida listened. It was +Dicky's voice. At first she did not know what to do. Finally, she +opened the door and peeped in. Dicky was sitting all crumpled up, +his head resting on the table. + +"Oh, what is the matter, Dicky?" Maida asked. + +Dicky jumped. He raised his head and looked at her. His face was +swollen with crying, his eyes red and heavy. For a moment he could +not speak. Maida could see that he was ashamed of being caught in +tears, that he was trying hard to control himself. + +"It's something I heard," he replied at last. + +"What?" Maida asked. + +"Last night after I got to bed, Doc O'Brien came here to get his +bill paid. Mother thought I was asleep and asked him a whole lot of +questions. He told her that I wasn't any better and I never would be +any better. He said that I'd be a cripple for the rest of my life." + +In spite of all his efforts, Dicky's voice broke into a sob. + +"Oh Dicky, Dicky," Maida said. Better than anybody else in the +world, Maida felt that she could understand, could sympathize. "Oh, +Dicky, how sorry I am!" + +"I can't bear it," Dicky said. + +He put his head down on the table and began to sob. "I can't bear +it," he said. "Why, I thought when I grew up to be a man, I was +going to take care of mother and Delia. Instead of that, they'll be +taking care of me. What can a cripple do? Once I read about a +crippled newsboy. Do you suppose I could sell papers?" he asked with +a gleam of hope. + +"I'm sure you could," Maida said heartily, "and a great many other +things. But it may not be as bad as you think, Dicky. Dr. O'Brien +may be mistaken. You know something was wrong with me when I was +born and I did not begin to walk until a year ago. My father has +taken me to so many doctors that I'm sure he could not remember half +their names. But they all said the same thing--that I never would +walk like other children. Then a very great physician--Dr. +Greinschmidt--came from away across the sea, from Germany. He said he +could cure me and he did. I had to be operated on and--oh--I suffered +dreadfully. But you see that I'm all well now. I'm even losing my +limp. Now, I believe that Doctor Greinschmidt can cure you. The next +time my father comes home I'm going to ask him." + +Dicky had stopped crying. He was drinking down everything that she +said. "Is he still here--that doctor?" he asked. + +"No," Maida admitted sorrowfully. "But there must be doctors as good +as he somewhere. But don't you worry about it at all, Dicky. You +wait until my father sees you--he always gets everything made right." + +"When's your father coming home?" + +"I don't quite know--but I look for him any time now." + +Dicky started to set the table. "I guess I wouldn't have cried," he +said after a while, "if I could have cried last night when I first +heard it. But of course I couldn't let mother or Doc O'Brien know +that I'd heard them--it would make them feel bad. I don't want my +mother ever to know that I know it." + +After that, Maida redoubled her efforts to be nice to Dicky. She +cudgeled her brains too for new decorative schemes for his +paper-work. She asked Billy Potter to bring a whole bag of her books +from the Beacon Street house and she lent them to Dicky, a half dozen +at a time. + +Indeed, they were a very busy quartette--the W.M.N.T.'s. Rosie went +to school every day. She climbed out of her window no more at night. +She seemed to prefer helping Maida in the shop to anything else. +Arthur Duncan was equally industrious. With no Rosie to play hookey +with, he, too, was driven to attending school regularly. His leisure +hours were devoted to his whittling and wood-carving. He was always +doing kind things for Maida and Granny, bringing up the coal, +emptying the ashes, running errands. + +And so November passed into December. + + + + + + CHAPTER XII: THE FIRST SNOW + + +"Look out the window, my lamb," Granny called one morning early in +December. Maida opened her eyes, jumped obediently out of bed and +pattered across the room. There, she gave a scream of delight, +jumping up and down and clapping her hands. + +"Snow! Oh goody, goody, goody! Snow at last!" + +It looked as if the whole world had been wrapped in a blanket of the +whitest, fleeciest, shiningest wool. Sidewalks, streets, crossings +were all leveled to one smoothness. The fences were so muffled that +they had swelled to twice their size. The houses wore trim, pointy +caps on their gables. The high bushes in the yard hung to the very +ground. The low ones had become mounds. The trees looked as if they +had been packed in cotton-wool and put away for the winter. + +"And the lovely part of it is, it's still snowing," Maida exclaimed +blissfully. + +"Glory be, it'ull be a blizzard before we're t'rough wid ut," Granny +said and shivered. + +Maida dressed in the greatest excitement. Few children came in to +make purchases that morning and the lines pouring into the +schoolhouse were very shivery and much shorter than usual. At a +quarter to twelve, the one-session bell rang. When the children came +out of school at one, the snow was whirling down thicker and faster +than in the morning. A high wind came up and piled it in the most +unexpected places. Trade stopped entirely in the shop. No mother +would let her children brave so terrific a storm. + +It snowed that night and all the next morning. The second day fewer +children went to school than on the first. But at two o'clock when +the sun burst through the gray sky, the children swarmed the +streets. Shovels and brooms began to appear, snow-balls to fly, +sleigh-bells to tinkle. + +Rosie came dashing into the shop in the midst of this burst of +excitement. "I've shoveled our sidewalk," she announced +triumphantly. "Is anything wrong with me? Everybody's staring at +me." + +Maida stared too. Rosie's scarlet cape was dotted with snow, her +scarlet hat was white with it. Great flakes had caught in her long +black hair, had starred her soft brows--they hung from her very +eyelashes. Her cheeks and lips were the color of coral and her eyes +like great velvety moons. + +"You look in the glass and see what they're staring at," Maida said +slyly. Rosie went to the mirror. + +"I don't see anything the matter." + +"It's because you look so pretty, goose!" Maida exclaimed. + +Rosie always blushed and looked ashamed if anybody alluded to her +prettiness. Now she leaped to Maida's side and pretended to beat +her. + +"Stop that!" a voice called. Startled, the little girls looked up. +Billy stood in the doorway. "I've come over to make a snow-house," +he explained. + +"Oh, Billy, what things you do think of!" Maida exclaimed. "Wait +till I get Arthur and Dicky!" + +"Couldn't get many more in here, could we?" Billy commented when the +five had assembled in the "child's size" yard. "I don't know that we +could stow away another shovel. Now, first of all, you're to pile +all the snow in the yard into that corner." + +Everybody went to work. But Billy and Arthur moved so quickly with +their big shovels that Maida and Rosie and Dicky did nothing but hop +about them. Almost before they realized it, the snow-pile reached to +the top of the fence. + +"Pack it down hard," Billy commanded, "as hard as you can make it." + +Everybody scrambled to obey. For a few moments the sound of shovels +beating on the snow drowned their talk. + +"That will do for that," Billy commanded suddenly. His little force +stopped, breathless and red-cheeked. "Now I'm going to dig out the +room. I guess I'll have to do this. If you're not careful enough, +the roof will cave in. Then it's all got to be done again." + +Working very slowly, he began to hollow out the structure. After the +hole had grown big enough, he crawled into it. But in spite of his +own warning, he must have been too energetic in his movements. +Suddenly the roof came down on his head. + +Billy was on his feet in an instant, shaking the snow off as a dog +shakes off water. + +"Why, Billy, you look like a snow-man," Maida laughed. + +"I feel like one," Billy said, wiping the snow from his eyes and +from under his collar. "But don't be discouraged, my hearties, up +with it again. I'll be more careful the next time." + +They went at it again with increased interest, heaping up a mound of +snow bigger than before, beating it until it was as hard as a brick, +hollowing out inside a chamber big enough for three of them to +occupy at once. But Billy gave them no time to enjoy their new +dwelling. + +"Run into the house," was his next order, "and bring out all the +water you can carry." + +There was a wild scramble to see which would get to the sink first +but in a few moments, an orderly file emerged from the house, Arthur +with a bucket, Dicky with a basin, Rosie with the dish-pan, Maida +with a dipper. + +"Now I'm going to pour water over the house," Billy explained. "You +see if it freezes now it will last longer." Very carefully, he +sprayed it on the sides and roof, dashing it upwards on the inside +walls: + +"We might as well make it look pretty while we're about it," Billy +continued. "You children get to work and make a lot of snow-balls +the size of an orange and just as round as you can turn them out." + +This was easy work. Before Billy could say, "Jack Robinson!" four +pairs of eager hands had accumulated snow-balls enough for a sham +battle. In the meantime, Billy had decorated the doorway with two +tall, round pillars. He added a pointed roof to the house and +trimmed it with snow-balls, all along the edge. + +"Now I guess we'd better have a snow-man to live in this mansion +while we're about it," Billy suggested briskly. "Each of you roll up +an arm or a leg while I make the body." + +Billy placed the legs in the corner opposite the snow-house. He +lifted on to them the big round body which he himself had rolled. +Putting the arms on was not so easy. He worked for a long time +before he found the angle at which they would stick. + +Everybody took a hand at the head. Maida contributed some dulse for +the hair, slitting it into ribbons, which she stuck on with glue. +Rosie found a broken clothes-pin for the nose. The round, smooth +coals that Dicky discovered in the coal-hod made a pair of +expressive black eyes. Arthur cut two sets of teeth from orange peel +and inserted them in the gash that was the mouth. When the head was +set on the shoulders, Billy disappeared into the house for a moment. +He came back carrying a suit-case. "Shut your eyes, every manjack of +you," he ordered. "You're not to see what I do until it's done. If I +catch one of you peeking, I'll confine you in the snow-house for +five minutes." + +The W.M.N.T.'s shut their eyes tight and held down the lids with +resolute fingers. But they kept their ears wide open. The mysterious +work on which Billy was engaged was accompanied by the most +tantalizing noises. + +"Oh, Billy, can't I please look," Maida begged, jiggling up and +down. "I can't stand it much longer." + +"In a minute," Billy said encouragingly. The mysterious noises kept +up. "Now," Billy said suddenly. + +Four pairs of eyes leaped open. Four pairs of lips shrieked their +delight. Indeed, Maida and Rosie laughed so hard that they finally +rolled in the snow. + +Billy had put an old coat on the snow-man's body. He had put a tall +hat--Arthur called it a "stove-pipe"--on the snow-man's head. +He had put an old black pipe between the snow-man's grinning, +orange-colored teeth. Gloves hung limply from the snow-man's arm-stumps +and to one of them a cane was fastened. Billy had managed to give the +snow-man's head a cock to one side. Altogether he looked so spruce +and jovial that it was impossible not to like him. + +"Mr. Chumpleigh, ladies and gentlemen," Billy said. "Some members of +the W.M.N.T., Mr. Chumpleigh." + +And Mr. Chumpleigh, he was until--until-- + +Billy stayed that night to dinner. They had just finished eating +when an excited ring of the bell announced Rosie. + +"Oh, Granny," she said, "the boys have made a most wonderful coast +down Halliwell Street and Aunt Theresa says I can go coasting until +nine o'clock if you'll let Maida go too. I thought maybe you would, +especially if Billy comes along." + +"If Misther Billy goes, 'twill be all roight." + +"Oh, Granny," Maida said, "you dear, darling, old fairy-dame!" She +was so excited that she wriggled like a little eel all the time +Granny was bundling her into her clothes. And when she reached the +street, it seemed as if she must explode. + +A big moon, floating like a silver balloon in the sky, made the +night like day. The neighborhood sizzled with excitement for the +street and sidewalks were covered with children dragging sleds. + +"It's like the 'Pied Piper', Rosie," Maida said joyfully, "children +everywhere and all going in the same direction." + +They followed the procession up Warrington Street to where Halliwell +Street sloped down the hill. + +Billy let out a long whistle of astonishment. "Great Scott, what a +coast!" he said. + +In the middle of the street was a ribbon of ice three feet wide and +as smooth as glass. At the foot of the hill, a piled-up mound of +snow served as a buffer. + +"The boys have been working on the slide all day," Rosie said. "Did +you ever see such a nice one, Maida?" + +"I never saw any kind of a one," Maida confessed. "How did they make +it so smooth?" + +"Pouring water on it." + +"Have you never coasted before, Maida?" Billy asked. + +"Never." + +"Well, here's your chance then," said a cheerful voice back of them. +They all turned. There stood Arthur Duncan with what Maida soon +learned was a "double-runner." + +Billy examined it carefully. "Did you make it, Arthur?" + +"Yes." + +"Pretty good piece of work," Billy commented. "Want to try it, +Maida?" + +"I'm crazy to!" + +"All right. Pile on!" + +Arthur took his place in front. Rosie sat next, then Dicky, then +Maida, then Billy. + +"Hold on to Dicky," Billy instructed Maida, "and I'll hold on to +you." + +Tingling with excitement, Maida did as she was told. But it seemed +as if they would never start. But at last, she heard Billy's voice, +"On your marks. Get set! Go!" The double-runner stirred. + +It moved slowly for a moment across the level top of the street. +Then came the first slope of the hill--they plunged forward. She +heard Rosie's hysterical shriek, Dicky's vociferous cheers and +Billy's blood-curdling yells, but she herself was as silent as a +little image. They struck the second slope of the hill--then she +screamed, too. The houses on either side shot past like pictures in +the kinetoscope. She felt a rush of wind that must surely blow her +ears off. They reached the third slope of the hill--and now they had +left the earth and were sailing through the air. The next instant +the double-runner had come to rest on the bank of snow and Rosie and +she were hugging each other and saying, "Wasn't it GREAT?" + +They climbed to the top of the hill again. All the way back, Maida +watched the sleds whizzing down the coast, boys alone on sleds, +girls alone on sleds, pairs of girls, pairs of boys, one seated in +front, the other steering with a foot that trailed behind on the +ice, timid little girls who did not dare the ice but contented +themselves with sliding on the snow at either side, daring little +boys who went down lying flat on their sleds. + +At the top they were besieged with entreaties to go on the +double-runner and, as there was room enough for one more, they took a +little boy or girl with them each time. Rosie lent her sled to those +who had none. At first there were plenty of these, standing at the +top of the coast, wistfully watching the fun of more fortunate +children. But after a while it was discovered that the ice was so +smooth that almost anything could be used for coasting. The sledless +ones rushed home and reappeared with all kinds of things. One little +lad went down on a shovel and his intrepid little sister followed on +a broom. Boxes and shingles and even dish-pans began to appear. Most +reckless of all, one big fellow slid down on his two feet, landing +in a heap in the snow. + +Maida enjoyed every moment of it--even the long walks back up the +hill. Once the double-runner struck into a riderless sled that had +drifted on to the course, and was overturned immediately. Nobody was +hurt. Rosie, Dicky and Arthur were cast safely to one side in the +soft snow. But Maida and Billy were thrown, whirling, on to the ice. +Billy kept his grip on Maida and they shot down the hill, turning +round and round and round. At first Maida was a little frightened. +But when she saw that they were perfectly safe, that Billy was +making her spin about in that ridiculous fashion, she laughed so +hard that she was weak when they reached the bottom. + +"Oh, do let's do that again!" she said when she caught her breath. + +Never was such a week as followed. The cold weather kept up. +Continued storms added to the snow. For the first time in years came +four one-session days in a single week. It seemed as if Jack Frost +were on the side of the children. He would send violent flurries of +snow just before the one-session bell rang but as soon as the +children were safely on the street, the sun would come out bright as +summer. + +Every morning when Maida woke up, she would say to herself, "I +wonder how Mr. Chumpleigh is to-day." Then she would run over to the +window to see. + +Mr. Chumpleigh had become a great favorite in the neighborhood. He +was so tall that his round, happy face with its eternal orange-peel +grin could look straight over the fence to the street. The +passers-by used to stop, paralyzed by the vision. But after studying +the phenomenon, they would go laughing on their way. Occasionally a +bad boy would shy a snow-ball at the smiling countenance but Mr. +Chumpleigh was so hard-headed that nothing seemed to hurt him. In +the course of time, the "stove-pipe" became very battered and, as +the result of continued storms, one eye sank down to the middle of +his cheek. But in spite of these injuries, he continued to maintain +his genial grin. + +"Let's go out and fix Mr. Chumpleigh," Rosie would say every day. +The two little girls would brush the snow off his hat and coat, +adjust his nose and teeth, would straighten him up generally. + +After a while, Maida threw her bird-crumbs all over Mr. Chumpleigh. +Thereafter, the saucy little English sparrows ate from Mr. +Chumpleigh's hat-brim, his pipe-bowl, even his pockets. + +"Perhaps the snow will last all winter," Maida said hopefully one +day. "If it does, Mr. Chumpleigh's health will be perfect." + +"Well, perhaps, it's just as well if he goes," Rosie said sensibly; +"we haven't done a bit of work since he came." + +On Sunday the weather moderated a little. Mr. Chumpleigh bore a most +melancholy look all the afternoon as if he feared what was to come. +What was worse, he lost his nose. + +Monday morning, Maida ran to the window dreading what she might see. +But instead of the thaw she expected, a most beautiful sight spread +out before her. The weather had turned cold in the night. Everything +that had started to melt had frozen up again. The sidewalks were +liked frosted cakes. Long icicles made pretty fringes around the +roofs of the houses. The trees and bushes were glazed by a sheathing +of crystal. The sunlight playing through all this turned the world +into a heap of diamonds. + +Mr. Chumpleigh had perked up under the influence of the cold. His +manner had gained in solidity although his gaze was a little glassy. +Hopefully Maida hunted about until she found his nose. + +She replaced his old set with some new orange-peel teeth and stuck +his pipe between them. He looked quite himself. + +But, alas, the sun came out and melted the whole world. The +sidewalks trickled streams. The icicles dripped away in showers of +diamonds. The trees lost their crystal sheathing. + +In the afternoon, Mr. Chumpleigh began to droop. By night his head +was resting disconsolately on his own shoulder. When Maida looked +out the next morning, there was nothing in the corner but a mound of +snow. An old coat lay to one side. Strewn about were a hat, a pair +of gloves, a pipe and a cane. + +Mr. Chumpleigh had passed away in the night. + + + + + + CHAPTER XIII: THE FAIR + + + SAVE YOUR PENNIES + A CHRISTMAS FAIR + WILL BE HELD IN THIS SHOP + THE SATURDAY BEFORE + CHRISTMAS + DELICIOUS CANDIES MADE BY + MISS ROSIE BRINE + PAPER GOODS DESIGNED AND + EXECUTED BY + MASTER RICHARD DORE + WOOD CARVING DESIGNED AND + EXECUTED BY + MASTER ARTHUR DUNCAN + DON'T MISS IT! + +This sign hung in Maida's window for a week. Billy made it. The +lettering was red and gold. In one corner, he painted a picture of a +little boy and girl in their nightgowns peeking up a chimney-place +hung with stockings. In the other corner, the full-moon face of a +Santa Claus popped like a jolly jack-in-the-box from a chimney-top. +A troop of reindeer, dragging a sleigh full of toys, scurried +through the printing. The whole thing was enclosed in a wreath of +holly. + +The sign attracted a great deal of attention. Children were always +stopping to admire it and even grown-people paused now and then. +There was such a falling-off of Maida's trade that she guessed that +the children were really saving their pennies for the fair. This +delighted her. + +The W.M.N.T.'s wasted no time that last week in spite of a very +enticing snowstorm. Maida, of course, had nothing to do on her own +account, but she worked with Dicky, morning and afternoon. + +Rosie could not make candy until the last two or three days for fear +it would get stale. Then she set to like a little whirlwind. + +"My face is almost tanned from bending over the stove," she said to +Maida; "Aunt Theresa says if I cook another batch of candy, I'll +have a crop of freckles." + +Arthur seemed to work the hardest of all because his work was so +much more difficult. It took a great deal of time and strength and +yet nobody could help him in it. The sound of his hammering came +into Maida's room early in the morning. It came in sometimes late at +night when, cuddling between her blankets, she thought what a happy +girl she was. + +"I niver saw such foine, busy little folks," Granny said approvingly +again and again. "It moinds me av me own Annie. Niver a moment but +that lass was working at some t'ing. Oh, I wonder what she's doun' +and finking this Christmas." + +"Don't you worry," Maida always said. "Billy'll find her for you +yet--he said he would." + +Maida, herself, was giving, for the first time in her experience, a +good deal of thought to Christmas time. + +In the first place, she had sent the following invitation to every +child in Primrose Court: + +"Will you please come to my Christmas Tree to be given Christmas +Night in the 'Little Shop.' Maida." + +In the second place, she was spying on all her friends, listening to +their talk, watching them closely in work and play to find just the +right thing to give them. + +"Do you know, I never made a Christmas present in my life," she said +one day to Rosie. + +"You never made a Christmas present?" Rosie repeated. + +Maida's quick perception sensed in Rosie's face an unspoken +accusation of selfishness. + +"It wasn't because I didn't want to, Rosie dear," Maida hastened to +explain. "It was because I was too sick. You see, I was always in +bed. I was too weak to make anything and I could not go out and buy +presents as other children did. But people used to give me the +loveliest things." + +"What did they give you?" Rosie asked curiously. + +"Oh, all kinds of things. Father's given me an automobile and a pair +of Shetland ponies and a family of twenty dolls and my weight in +silver dollars. I can't remember half the things I've had." + +"A pair of Shetland ponies, an automobile, a family of twenty dolls, +your weight in silver dollars," Rosie repeated after her. "Why, +Maida, you're dreaming or you're out of your head." + +"Out of my head! Why, Rosie you're out of _your_ head. Don't you +suppose I know what I got for Christmas?" Maida's eyes began to +flash and her lips to tremble. + +"Well, now, Maida, just think of it," Rosie said in her most +reasonable voice. "Here you are a little girl just like anybody else +only you're running a shop. Now just as if you could afford to have +an automobile! Why, my father knows a man who knows another man who +bought an automobile and it cost nine hundred dollars. What did +yours cost?" + +"Two thousand dollars." Maida said this with a guilty air in spite +of her knowledge of her own truth. + +Rosie smiled roguishly. "Maida, dear," she coaxed, "you dreamed it." + +Maida started to her feet. For a moment she came near saying +something very saucy indeed. But she remembered in time. Of course +nobody in the neighborhood knew that she was "Buffalo" Westabrook's +daughter. It was impossible for her to prove any of her statements. +The flash died out of her eyes. But another flash came into her +cheeks--the flash of dimples. + +"Well, perhaps I _did_ dream it, Rosie," she said archly. "But I +don't think I did," she added in a quiet voice. + +Rosie turned the subject tactfully. "What are you going to give your +father?" she asked. + +"That's bothering me dreadfully," Maida sighed; "I can't think of +anything he needs." + +"Why don't you buy him the same thing I'm going to get my papa," +Rosie suggested eagerly. "That is, I'm going to buy it if I make +enough money at the fair. Does your father shave himself?" + +"Oh, Adolph, his valet, always shaves him," Maida answered. + +Rosie's brow knit over the word _valet_--but Maida was always +puzzling the neighborhood with strange expressions. Then her brow +lightened. "My father goes to a barber, too," she said. "I've heard +him complaining lots of times how expensive it is. And the other day +Arthur told me about a razor his father uses. He says it's just like +a lawn-mower or a carpet-sweeper. You don't have to have anybody +shave you if you have one of them. You run it right over your face +and it takes all the beard off and doesn't cut or anything. Now, +wouldn't you think that would be fun?" + +"I should think it would be just lovely," Maida agreed. "That's just +the thing for papa--for he is so busy. How much does it cost, Rosie?" + +"About a dollar, Arthur thought. I never paid so much for a +Christmas present in my life. And I'm not sure yet that I can get +one. But if I do sell two dollars worth of candy, I can buy +something perfectly beautiful for both father and mother." + +"Oh, Rosie," Maida asked breathlessly, "do you mean that your +mother's come back?" + +Rosie's face changed. "Don't you think I'd tell you that the first +thing? No, she hasn't come back and they don't say anything about +her coming back. But if she ever does come, I guess I'm going to +have her Christmas present all ready for her." + +Maida patted her hand. "She's coming back," she said; "I know it." + +Rosie sighed. "You come down Main Street the night before Christmas. +Dicky and I are going to buy our Christmas presents then and we can +show you where to get the little razor." + +"I'd love to." Maida beamed. And indeed, it seemed the most +fascinating prospect in the world to her. Every night after she went +to bed, she thought it over. She was really going to buy Christmas +presents without any grown-up person about to interfere. It was +rapture. + +The night before the fair, the children worked even harder than the +night before Halloween, for there were so many things to display. It +was evident that the stock would overflow windows and shelves and +show cases. + +"We'll bring the long kitchen table in for your things, Arthur," +Maida decided after a perplexed consideration of the subject. +"Dicky's and Rosie's things ought to go on the shelves and into the +show cases where nobody can handle them." + +They tugged the table into the shop and covered it with a beautiful +old blue counter-pane. + +"That's fine!" Arthur approved, unpacking his handicraft from the +bushel-baskets in which he brought them. + +The others stood round admiring the treasures and helping him to +arrange them prettily. A fleet of graceful little boats occupied one +end of the table, piles of bread-boards, rolling-pins and "cats," +the other. In the center lay a bowl filled with tiny baskets, carved +from peach-stones. From the molding hung a fringe of hockey-sticks. + +Having arranged all Arthur's things, the quartette filed upstairs to +the closet where Dicky's paper-work was kept. + +"Gracious, I didn't realize there were so many," Rosie said. + +"Sure, the lad has worked day and night," Granny said, patting +Dicky's thin cheek. + +They filled Arthur's baskets and trooped back to the shop. They +lined show case and shelves with the glittering things--boxes, big +and little, gorgeously ornamented with stars and moons, caps of gold +and silver, flying gay plumes, rainbow boats too beautiful to sail +on anything but fairy seas, miniature jackets and trousers that only +a circus rider would wear. + +"Dicky, I never did see anything look so lovely," Maida said, +shaking her hands with delight. "I really didn't realize how pretty +they were." + +Dicky's big eyes glowed with satisfaction. "Nor me neither," he +confessed. + +"And now," Maida said, bubbling over with suppressed importance, +"Rosie's candies--I've saved that until the last." She pulled out one +of the drawers under the show case and lifted it on to the counter. +It was filled with candy-boxes of paper, prettily decorated with +flower patterns on the outside, with fringes of lace paper on the +inside. "I ordered these boxes for you, Rosie," she explained. "I +knew your candy would sell better if it was put up nicely. I thought +the little ones could be five-cent size, the middle-sized ones +ten-cent size, and the big ones twenty-five cent size." + +Rosie was dancing up and down with delight. "They're just lovely, +Maida, and how sweet you were to think of it. But it was just like +you." + +"Now we must pack them," Maida said. + +Four pairs of hands made light work of this. By nine o'clock all the +boxes were filled and spread out temptingly in the show case. By a +quarter past nine, three of the W.M.N.T.'s were in bed trying hard +to get to sleep. But Maida stayed up. The boxes were not her only +surprise. + +After the others had gone, she and Granny worked for half an hour in +the little shop. + +The Saturday before Christmas dawned clear and fair. Rosie hallooed +for Dicky and Arthur as she came out of doors at half-past seven and +all three arrived at the shop together. Their faces took on such a +comic look of surprise that Maida burst out laughing. + +"But where did it all come from?" Rosie asked in bewilderment. +"Maida, you slyboots, you must have done all this after we left." + +Maida nodded. + +But all Arthur and Dicky said was "Gee!" and "Jiminy crickets!" But +Maida found these exclamatives quite as expressive as Rosie's hugs. +And, indeed, she herself thought the place worthy of any degree of +admiring enthusiasm. + +The shop was so strung with garlands of Christmas green that it +looked like a bower. Bunches of mistletoe and holly added their +colors to the holiday cheer. Red Christmas bells hung everywhere. + +"My goodness, I never passed such a day in my life," Maida said that +night at dinner. She was telling it all to Granny, who had been away +on mysterious business of her own. "It's been like a beehive here +ever since eight o'clock this morning. If we'd each of us had an +extra pair of hands at our knees and another at our waists, perhaps +we could have begun to wait on all the people." + +"Sure 'twas no more than you deserved for being such busy little +bees," Granny approved. + +"The only trouble was," Maida went on smilingly, "that they liked +everything so much that they could not decide which they wanted +most. Of course, the boys preferred Arthur's carvings and the girls +Rosie's candy. But it was hard to say who liked Dicky's things the +best." + +Granny twinkled with delight. She had never told Maida, but she did +not need to tell her, that Dicky was her favorite. + +"And then the grown people who came, Granny! First Arthur's father +on his way to work, then Mrs. Lathrop and Laura--they bought loads of +things, and Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Doyle and even Mr. Flanagan bought a +hockey-stick. He said," Maida dimpled with delight, "he said he +bought it to use on Arthur and Rosie if they ever hooked jack again. +Poor Miss Allison bought one of Arthur's 'cats'--what do you suppose +for?" + +Granny had no idea. + +"To wind her wool on. Then Billy came at the last minute and bought +everything that was left. And just think, Granny, there was a crowd +of little boys and girls who had stood about watching all day +without any money to spend and Billy divided among them all the +things he bought. Guess how much money they made!" + +Granny guessed three sums, and each time Maida said, triumphantly, +"More!" At last Granny had to give it up. + +"Arthur made five dollars and thirty cents. Dicky made three dollars +and eighty-seven cents. Rosie made two dollars and seventy cents." + +After dinner that night, Maida accompanied Rosie and Dicky on the +Christmas-shopping expedition. + +They went first to a big dry goods store with Dicky. They helped +Dicky to pick out a fur collar for his mother from a counter marked +conspicuously $2.98. The one they selected was of gray and brown +fur. It was Maida's opinion that it was sable and chinchilla mixed. + +Dicky's face shone with delight when at last he tucked the big round +box safely under his arm. "Just think, I've been planning to do this +for three years," he said, "and I never could have done it now if it +hadn't been for you, Maida." + +Next Dicky took the two little girls where they could buy razors. +"The kind that goes like a lawn-mower," Rosie explained to the +proprietor. The man stared hard before he showed them his stock. But +he was very kind and explained to them exactly how the wonderful +little machine worked. + +Maida noticed that Rosie examined very carefully all the things +displayed in windows and on counters. But nothing she saw seemed to +satisfy her, for she did not buy. + +"What is it, Rosie?" Maida asked after a while. + +"I'm looking for something for my mother." + +"I'll help you," Maida said. She took Rosie's hand, and, thus linked +together, the two little girls discussed everything that they saw. + +Suddenly, Rosie uttered a little cry of joy and stopped at a +jeweler's window. A tray with the label, "SOLID SILVER, $1," +overflowed with little heart-shaped pendants. + +"Mama'd love one of those," Rosie said. "She just loved things she +could hang round her neck." + +They went inside. "It's just what I want," Rosie declared. "But I +wish I had a little silver chain for it. I can't afford one though," +she concluded wistfully. + +"Oh, I know what to do," Maida said. "Buy a piece of narrow black +velvet ribbon. Once my father gave my mother a beautiful diamond +heart. Mother used to wear it on a black velvet ribbon. Afterwards +papa bought her a chain of diamonds. But she always liked the black +velvet best and so did papa and so did I. Papa said it made her neck +look whiter." + +The other three children looked curiously at Maida when she said, +"diamond heart." When she said, "string of diamonds," they looked at +each other. + +"Was that another of your dreams, Maida?" Rosie asked mischievously. + +"Dreams!" Maida repeated, firing up. But before she could say +anything that she would regret, the dimples came. "Perhaps it was a +dream," she said prettily. "But if it was, then everything's a +dream." + +"I believe every word that Maida says," Dicky protested stoutly. + +"I believe that Maida believes it," Arthur said with a smile. + +They all stopped with Rosie while she bought the black velvet ribbon +and strung the heart on it. She packed it neatly away in the glossy +box in which the jeweler had done it up. + +"If my mama doesn't come back to wear that heart, nobody else ever +will," she said passionately. "Never--never--never--unless I have a +little girl of my own some day." + +"Your mother'll come back," Maida said. + + + + + + CHAPTER XIV: CHRISTMAS HAPPENINGS + + +Maida was awakened early Christmas morning by a long, wild peal of +the bell. Before she could collect her scattered wits, she heard +Rosie's voice, "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! +Oh, Granny, won't you please let me run upstairs and wake Maida? +I've got something dreadfully important to tell her." + +Maida heard Granny's bewildered "All roight, child," heard Rosie's +rush through the living-room and then she bounded out of bed, +prickling all over with excitement. + +"Maida," Rosie called from the stairs, "wake up! I've something +wonderful to tell you." + +But Maida had guessed it. + +"I know," she cried, as Rosie burst into the room. "Your mother's +come home." + +"My mother's come home," Rosie echoed. + +The two little girls seized each other and hopped around the room in +a mad dance, Maida chanting in a deep sing-song, "Your mother's come +home!" and Rosie screaming at the top of her lungs, "My mother's +come home!" After a few moments of this, they sank exhausted on the +bed. + +"Tell me all about it," Maida gasped. "Begin at the very beginning +and don't leave anything out." + +"Well, then," Rosie began, "I will. When I went to bed last night +after leaving you, I got to thinking of my mother and pretty soon I +was so sad that I nearly cried my eyes out. Well, after a long while +I got to sleep and I guess I must have been very tired, for I didn't +wake up the way I do generally of my own accord. Aunt Theresa had to +wake me. She put on my best dress and did my hair this new way and +even let me put cologne on. I couldn't think why, because I never +dress up until afternoons. Once when I looked at her, I saw there +were tears in her eyes and, oh, Maida, it made me feel something +awful, for I thought she was going to tell me that my mother was +dead. When I came downstairs, my father hugged me and kissed me and +sat with me while I ate my breakfast. Oh, I was so afraid he was +going to tell me that mother was dead! But he didn't! After awhile, +he said, 'Your Christmas presents are all up in your mother's +bedroom, Rosie.' So I skipped up there. My father and Aunt Theresa +didn't come with me, but I noticed they stood downstairs and +listened. I opened the door." + +Rosie stopped for breath. + +"Go on," Maida entreated; "oh, do hurry." + +"Well, there, lying on the bed was my mother. Maida, I felt so queer +that I couldn't move. My feet wouldn't walk---just like in a dream. +My mother said, 'Come here, my precious little girl,' but it sounded +as if it came from way, way, way off. And Maida _then_ I could move. +I ran across the room and hugged her and kissed her until I couldn't +breathe. Then she said, 'I have a beautiful Christmas gift for you, +little daughter,' and she pulled something over towards me that lay, +all wrapped up, in a shawl on the bed. What do you think it was?" + +"I don't know. Oh, tell me, Rosie!" + +"Guess," Rosie insisted, her eyes dancing. + +"Rosie, if you don't tell me this minute, I'll pinch you." + +"It was a baby--a little baby brother." + +"A baby! Oh, Rosie!" + +The two little girls hopped about the room in another mad dance. + +"Maida, he's the darlingest baby that ever was in the whole wide +world! His name is Edward. He's only six weeks old and _he can +smile_." + +"Smile, Rosie?" + +"He can--I saw him--and sneeze!" + +"Sneeze, Rosie?" + +"That's not all," said Rosie proudly. "He can wink his eyes and +double up his fists--and--and--and a whole lot of things. There's no +doubt that he's a remarkable baby. My mother says so. And pretty +as--oh, he's prettier than any puppy I ever saw. He's a little too +pink in the face and he hasn't much hair yet--there's a funny spot in +the top of his head that goes up and down all the time that you have +to be dreadfully careful about. But he certainly is the loveliest +baby I ever saw. What do you think my mother let me do?" + +"Oh, what?" + +"She let me rock him for a moment. And I asked her if you could rock +him some day and she said you could." + +"Oh! oh!" + +"And what else do you think she's going to let me do?" + +"I can't guess. Oh, tell me quick, Rosie." + +"She says she's going to let me give him his bath Saturdays and +Sundays and wheel him out every day in his carriage." + +"Rosie," Maida said impressively, "you ought to be the happiest +little girl in the world. Think of having a baby brother for a +Christmas present. You will let me wheel him sometimes, won't you?" + +"Of course I will. I shall divide him exactly in half with you." + +"Where has your mother been all this time?" Maida asked. + +"Oh, she's been dreadfully sick in a hospital. She was sick after +the baby came to her--so sick that she couldn't even take care of +him. She said they were afraid she was going to die. But she's all +right now. Father bought her for Christmas a beautiful, long, +red-silk dress that's just to lie down in. She looks like a queen +in it, and yet she looks like a little girl, too, for her hair is done +in two braids. Her hair comes way down below her waist like your +mother's hair. And when I gave her the little silver heart, she was +so pleased with it. She put it right on and it looked sweet. She +said she would much rather wear it on a black velvet ribbon than on +a silver chain." + +"Everything's come out all right, hasn't it?" Maida said with +ecstasy. + +"I guess it has. Now I must go. I want to be sure to be there when +the baby wakes up. I asked my mother when you could see the baby, +Maida, and she said to-morrow. I can't wait to show you its feet--you +never did see such little toes in your life." + +Exciting as this event was, it was as nothing to what followed. + +Granny and Maida were still talking about Rosie's happiness when +Billy Potter suddenly came marching through the shop and into the +living-room. + +"Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!" they all said +at once. + +"Granny," Billy asked immediately, "if you could have your choice of +all the Christmas gifts in the world, which one would you choose?" + +An expression of bewilderment came into Granny's bright blue eyes. + +"A Christmas gift, Misther Billy," she said in an uncertain tone; "I +cudn't t'ink of a t'ing as long as Oi can't have me little Annie wid +me." + +Maida saw Billy's eyes snap and sparkle at the word Annie. She +wondered what--Could it be possible that--She began to tremble. + +"And so you'd choose your daughter, Granny?" Billy questioned. + +"Choose my daughter. Av coorse Oi wud!" Granny stopped to stare in +astonishment at Billy. "Oh, Misther Billy, if you cud only foind +her!" She gazed imploringly at him. Billy continued to smile at her, +his eyes all "skrinkled up." Granny jumped to her feet. She seized +Billy's arm. "Oh, Misther Billy, you _have_ found her," she +quavered. + +Billy nodded. "I've found her, Granny! I told you I would and I +have. Now don't get excited. She's all right and you're all right +and everything's all right. She'll be here just as soon as you're +ready to see her." + +For a moment Maida was afraid Granny was going to faint, for she +dropped back into her chair and her eyes filled with tears. But at +Billy's last words the old fire came back to her eyes, the color to +her cheeks. "Oi want to see her at wance," she said with spirit. + +"Listen," Billy said. "Last night I happened to fall into +conversation with a young Irishman who had come to read the +gas-meter in my house. I asked him where he came from. He said, +'Aldigarey, County Sligo.' I asked him if he knew Annie Flynn. +'Sure, didn't she marry my cousin? She lives--' Well, the short of it +is that I went right over to see her, though it was late then. I +found her a widow with two children. She nearly went crazy at the +prospect of seeing her mother again, but we agreed that we must wait +until morning. We planned--oh, come in, Annie," he called suddenly. + +At his call, the shop door opened and shut. There was a rush of two +pairs of feet through the shop. In the doorway appeared a young +woman carrying a baby. Behind her came a little boy on crutches. +Granny stood like a marble statue, staring. But Maida screamed. + +Who do you suppose they were? + +They were Mrs. Dore and Delia and Dicky. + +"Oh, my mother!" Mrs. Dore said. + +"My little Annie--my little girl," Granny murmured. The tears began +to stream down her cheeks. + +Followed kissings and huggings by the dozen. Followed questions and +answers by the score. + +"And to t'ink you've been living forninst us all this time," Granny +said after the excitement had died down. She was sitting on the +couch now, with Delia asleep in her lap, Mrs. Dore on one side and +Dicky on the other. "And sure, me own hearrt was telling me the +trut' all the toime did Oi but listhen to ut--for 'twas loving this +foine little lad ivry minut av the day." She patted Dicky's head. +"And me niver seeing the baby that had me own name!" She cuddled +Delia close. "OI'm the happiest woman in the whole woide wurrld this +day." + +It was arranged that the two families were to have Christmas dinner +together. Dicky and Mrs. Dore hurried back for a few moments to +bring their turkey to the feast. + +"Granny, will you love me just the same now that you've got Dicky +and Delia?" Maida said wistfully. + +"Love you, my lamb? Sure, I'll love you all the more for 'twas +t'rough you I met Misther Billy and t'rough Misther Billy I found me +Annie. Ah, Misther Billy, 'tis the grand man you make for such a b'y +that you are!" + +"Yes, m'm," said Billy. + +When Mrs. Dore returned, mother and daughter went to work on the +dinner, while Billy and Maida and Dicky trimmed the tree. When the +door opened, they caught bits of conversation, Granny's brogue +growing thicker and thicker in her excitement, and Mrs. Dore +relapsing, under its influence, into old-country speech. At such +times, Maida noticed that Billy's eyes always "skrinkled up." + +They were just putting the finishing touches to the tree when the +window darkened suddenly. Maida looked up in surprise. And then, +"Oh, my papa's come!" she screamed; "my papa's come to my Christmas +tree after all!" + +There is so much to tell about the Christmas tree that I don't know +where to begin. + +First of all came Laura and Harold. Mrs. Lathrop stopped with them +for a moment to congratulate Mrs. Dore on finding her mother. + +"Mrs. Lathrop, permit me to introduce my father, Mr. Westabrook," +Maida said. + +Mrs. Lathrop was very gracious. "The neighborhood have accepted your +daughter as Mrs. Flynn's grandchild, Mr. Westabrook. But I guessed +the truth from the first. I believed, however, that you wished the +matter kept a secret and I have said nothing of it to anybody." + +"I thank you, madam," said "Buffalo" Westabrook, bending on her one +of his piercing scrutinies. "How ever the neighborhood accepted her, +they have given her back her health. I can never be too grateful to +them." + +Came Rosie next with a, "Oh, Maida, if you could only have seen +Edward when my mother bathed him to-night!" Came Arthur, came the +Doyles, came the Clark twins with Betsy tagging at their heels. Last +of all, to Maida's great delight, came Dr. Pierce. + +Nobody was allowed to go into the shop where the tree stood until +the last guest had arrived. But in spite of their impatience they +had a gay half hour of waiting. Billy amused them with all kinds of +games and tricks and jokes, and when he tired, Dr. Pierce, who soon +became a great favorite, took them in hand. + +Dr. Pierce sat, most of the evening, holding Betsy in his lap, +listening to her funny baby chatter and roaring at her escapades. He +took a great fancy to the Clark twins and made all manner of fun for +the children by pretending that there was only one of them. +"Goodness; how you do fly about!" he would say ruefully to Dorothy, +"An instant ago you were standing close beside me," or "How can you +be here on the couch," he would say to Mabel, "when there you are as +plain as a pikestaff standing up in the corner?" + +"What can you do about that leg, Eli?" Mr. Westabrook asked Dr. +Pierce once when Dicky swung across the room. + +"I've been thinking about that," Dr. Pierce answered briskly. "I +guess Granny and Annie will have to let me take Dicky for a while. A +few months in my hospital and he'll be jumping round here like a +frog with the toothache." + +"Oh, Dr. Pierce, do you think you can cure him?" Mrs. Dore asked, +clasping her hands. + +"Cure him!" Dr. Pierce answered with his jolliest laugh. "Of course +we can. He's not in half so bad a condition as Maida was when we +straightened her out. Greinschmidt taught us a whole bag of tricks. +Dicky could almost mend himself if he'd only stay still long enough. +Look at Maida. Would you ever think she'd been much worse than +Dicky?" + +Everybody stared hard at Maida, seated on her father's knee, and she +dimpled and blushed under the observation. She was dressed all in +white--white ribbons, white sash, white socks and shoes, the softest, +filmiest white cobweb dress. Her hair streamed loose--a cascade of +delicate, clinging ringlets of the palest gold. Her big, gray eyes, +soft with the happiness of the long day, reflected the firelight. +Her cheeks had grown round as well as pink and dimpled. + +She did not look sick. + +"Oh, Dicky," she cried, "just think, you're going to be cured. +Didn't I tell you when my father saw you, he'd fix it all right? My +father's a magician!" + +But Dicky could not answer. He was gulping furiously to keep back +the tears of delight. But he smiled his radiant smile. Billy took +everybody's attention away from him by turning an unexpected +cartwheel in the middle of the floor. + +Finally, Maida announced that it was time for the tree. They formed +in line and marched into the shop to a tune that Billy thumped out +of the silver-toned old spinet. + +I wish you could have heard the things the children said. + + ---------------------- + +The tree went close to the ceiling. Just above it, with arms +outstretched, swung a beautiful Christmas angel. Hanging from it +were all kinds of glittery, quivery, sparkly things in silver and +gold. Festooned about it were strings of pop corn and cranberries. +At every branch-tip glistened a long glass icicle. And the whole +thing was ablaze with candles and veiled in a mist of gold and +silver. + +At the foot of the tree, groups of tiny figures in painted plaster +told the whole Christmas Day story from the moment of the first +sight of the star by the shepherds who watched their flocks to the +arrival, at the manger, of the Wise Men, bearing gold, frankincense +and myrrh. + +Billy Potter disappeared for a moment and came in, presently, the +most chubby and pink-faced and blue-eyed of Santa Clauses, in purple +velvet trimmed with ermine, with long white hair and a long white +beard. + +I can't begin to name to you all the fruits of that magic tree. From +Maida, there came to Rosie a big golden cage with a pair of canary +birds, to Arthur a chest of wonderful tools, to Dicky a little +bookcase full of beautiful books, to Laura a collection of sashes +and ribbons, to Harold a long train of cars. For Molly, Betsy and +the Clark twins came so many gifts that you could hardly count them +all--dolls and dolls' wardrobes, tiny doll-houses and tinier +doll-furniture. For Tim came a sled and bicycle. + +To Maida came a wonderful set of paper boxes from Dicky, a long +necklace of carved beads from Arthur, a beautiful blank-book, with +all her candy recipes, beautifully written out, from Rosie, a warm +little pair of knitted bed-shoes from Granny, a quaint, little, +old-fashioned locket from Dr. Pierce--he said it had once belonged to +another little sick girl who died. + +From Billy came a book. Perhaps you can fancy how Maida jumped when +she read "The Crystal Ball," by William Potter, on the cover. But I +do not think you can imagine how pleased she looked when inside she +read the printed dedication, "To Petronilla." + +From her father came a beautiful miniature of her mother, painted on +ivory. The children crowded about her to see the beautiful face of +which Maida had told them so much. There was the mass of golden hair +which she had described so proudly. There, too, was a heart-shaped +pendant of diamonds, suspended from a black velvet ribbon tied close +to the white throat. + +The children looked at the picture. Then they looked at each other. + +But Maida did not notice. She was watching eagerly while Dr. Pierce +and Billy and her father opened her gifts to them. + +She was afraid they would not understand. "They're to save time, you +see, when you want to shave in a hurry," she explained. + +"Maida," her father said gravely, "that is a very thoughtful gift. +It's strange when you come to think of it, as busy a man as I am and +with all the friends I have, nobody has ever thought to give me a +safety razor." + +"I don't know how I ever managed to get along without one," Dr. +Pierce declared, his curls bobbing. + +"As for me--I shall probably save about a third of my income in the +future," Billy announced. + +All three were so pleased that they laughed for a long time. + +"I'm going to give you another Christmas present, Maida," Mr. +Westabrook said suddenly, "I'm going to give us both one--a vacation. +We're going to start for Europe, week after next." + +"Oh, papa, papa, how lovely!" Maida said. "Shall we see Venice +again? But how can I give up my little shop and my friends?" + +"Maida going away!" the children exclaimed. "Oh, dear! oh, dear!" +"But Mr. Westabrook, isn't Maida coming back again?" Rosie asked. +"How I shall miss her!" Laura chimed in. + +"Take my lamb away," Granny wailed. "Sure, she'll be tuk sick in +those woild counthries! You'll have to take me wid you, Misther +Westabrook--only--only--" She did not finish her sentence but her eyes +went anxiously to her daughter's face. + +"No, Granny, you're not to go," Mr. Westabrook said decisively; +"You're to stay right here with your daughter and her children. +You're all to run the shop and live over it. Maida's old enough and +well enough to take care of herself now. And I think she'd better +begin to take care of me as well. Don't you think so, Maida?" + +"Of course I do, papa. If you need me, I want to." + +"Mr. Westabrook," Molly broke into the conversation determinedly, +"did you ever give Maida a pair of Shetland ponies?" + +Mr. Westabrook bent on the Robin the most amused of his smiles. + +"Yes," he said. + +"And an automobile?" Tim asked. + +Mr. Westabrook turned to the Bogle. "Yes," he said, a little +puzzled. + +"And did Maida's mother have a gold brush with her initials in +diamonds on it?" Rosie asked. + +Mr. Westabrook roared. "Yes," he said. + +"And have you got twelve peacocks, two of them white?" Arthur asked. + +"Yes." + +"And has Maida a little theater of her own and a doll-house as big +as a cottage?" Laura asked. + +"Yes." + +"And did she have a May-party last year that she invited over four +hundred children to?" Harold asked. + +"Yes." + +"And did you give her her weight in silver dollars once?" Mabel +asked. + +"Yes." + +"And a family of twenty dolls?" Dorothy asked. + +"Yes, you shall see all these things when we come back," Mr. +Westabrook promised. + +"Then why did she run away?" Betsy asked solemnly. + +Everybody laughed. + +"I always said Maida was a princess in disguise," Dicky maintained, +"and now I suppose she's going back and be a princess again." + +"Dicky was the first friend I made, papa," Maida said, smiling at +her first friend. + +"But you'll come back some time, won't you, Maida?" Dicky begged. + +"Yes, Dicky," Maida answered, "_I'll_ come back." + +Yes, Maida did come back. And what fun they all have, the Little Six +in their private quarters, and the Big Six with their picnics, and +their adventures with the Gypsies, is told in _Maida's Little +House_. + + THE END + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + + THE CAROLYN WELLS BOOKS FOR GIRLS + +Fresh, spirited stories that the modern small girl will take to her +heart these well known books by a famous author have won an +important place in the field of juvenile fiction. + + THE FAMOUS "PATTY" BOOKS + +Patty Fairfield Patty at Home Patty in the City Patty's Summer Days +Patty in Paris Patty's Friend Patty's Pleasure Trip Patty's Success +Patty's Motor Car Patty's Butterfly Days Patty's Social Season +Patty's Suitors Patty's Romance Patty's Fortune Patty Blossom +Patty--Bride Patty and Azalea + + THE MARJORIE BOOKS + +Marjorie's Vacation Marjorie's Busy Days Marjorie's New Friend +Marjorie in Command Marjorie's Maytime Marjorie at Seacote + + TWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIES + +Two Little Women Two Little Women and Treasure House Two Little +Women on a Holiday + + DORRANCE SERIES + +The Dorrance Domain Dorrance Doings + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + + THE MARY JANE SERIES + By CLARA INGRAM JUDSON + + Each Volume Complete in Itself. + +Take a trip with Mary Jane. She is the heroine of this popular +series for young girls. You'll find her a charming traveling +companion. Her good nature, her abounding interest in her friends +and surroundings, and her fascinating adventures both at home and +abroad have endeared her to thousands all over the country. + +MARY JANE--HER BOOK +MARY JANE--HER VISIT +MARY JANE'S KINDERGARTEN +MARY JANE DOWN SOUTH +MARY JANE'S CITY HOME +MARY JANE IN NEW ENGLAND +MARY JANE'S COUNTRY HOME +MARY JANE AT SCHOOL +MARY JANE IN CANADA +MARY JANE'S SUMMER FUN +MARY JANE'S WINTER SPORTS +MARY JANE'S VACATION +MARY JANE IN ENGLAND +MARY JANE IN SCOTLAND +MARY JANE IN FRANCE +MARY JANE IN SWITZERLAND +MARY JANE IN ITALY +MARY JANE IN SPAIN +MARY JANE'S FRIENDS IN HOLLAND + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + + THE BEVERLY GRAY STORIES + _by_ + CLAIR BLANK + +These stories, full of the fun and thrills of college life, with an +exciting mystery in each, have unusual appeal for the modern girl. + +BEVERLY GRAY, FRESHMAN +BEVERLY GRAY, SOPHOMORE +BEVERLY GRAY, JUNIOR +BEVERLY GRAY, SENIOR +BEVERLY GRAY'S CAREER +BEVERLY GRAY ON A WORLD CRUISE +BEVERLY GRAY IN THE ORIENT +BEVERLY GRAY ON A TREASURE HUNT +BEVERLY GRAY'S RETURN +BEVERLY GRAY, REPORTER +BEVERLY GRAY'S ROMANCE + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + + MELODY LANE MYSTERY STORIES + By LILIAN GARIS + +Thrills, secrets, ghosts--adventures that will fascinate you seem to +surround pretty Carol Duncan. A vivid, plucky girl, her cleverness +at solving mysteries will captivate and thrill every mystery fan. + +THE GHOST OF MELODY LANE + Three people see the "ghost" that wanders in the grove carrying + a waxy white rose. And in the end Carol finds the rose and the + ghost too! + +THE FORBIDDEN TRAIL + Carol has several bad frights before she clears up the mystery + that keeps the family at Splatter Castle unhappy and afraid. + +THE TOWER SECRET + The winking lights from the old tower defy explanation. Had the + engaging circus family anything to do with them? + +THE WILD WARNING + What power did the strange, wild warning in the woods have over + Polly Flinders? Carol brings happiness to three families when + she solves this mystery. + +THE TERROR AT MOANING CLIFF + Carol finally tracks the uncanny "haunts" in the great, bleak + house on "moaning cliff" to their source. + +THE DRAGON OF THE HILLS + When Carol runs a tea shop for a friend, a baffling mystery + comes to her with her first customer. + +THE MYSTERY OF STINGYMAN'S ALLEY + An adorable child is left at the day nursery where Carol + works--who are all the mysterious people trying to claim her? + +THE SECRET OF THE KASHMIR SHAWL + _A sequel to _"The Wild Warning" + A shawl brought from Egypt brings with it an absorbing mystery + which Cecy, with the aid of Polly Flinders, finally solves. + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + FAIRY TALES + _and tales of wonder that + are favorites of young people the world over_ + +ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE Miss Mulock +ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES Hans Christian Andersen +AT THE BACK OF THE NORTH George MacDonald +WIND THE BLUE FAIRY BOOK Andrew Lang +ENGLISH FAIRY TALES Joseph Jacobs +GRANNY'S WONDERFUL CHAIR Frances Browne +GRIMM'S FAIRY TALES The Brothers Grimm +JAPANESE FAIRY TALES Yei Theadora Ozaki +THE LITTLE LAME PRINCE Miss Mulock +PINOCCHIO C. Collodi +THE PRINCESS AND CURDIE George MacDonald +THE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN George MacDonald +THE RED FAIRY BOOK Andrew Lang +THE WATER BABIES Charles Kingsley + + ---------------------------------------------------------------- + + GROSSET &. 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