[Illustration: Maida’s Little Shop]

Maida’s Little ShopByInez Haynes Irwin

Author ofMAIDA'S LITTLE HOUSE, MAIDA'S LITTLE SCHOOL, ETC. 

Grosset & Dunlap, PublishersNew York

Copyright, 1909, byB. W. HUEBSCH

TOLITTLE P. D. FROMBIG P. D. 

CONTENTS

Chapter I: The RideChapter II: Cleaning UpChapter III: The First DayChapter IV: The Second DayChapter V: Primrose CourtChapter VI: Two CallsChapter VII: TroubleChapter VIII: A Rainy DayChapter IX: WorkChapter X: PlayChapter XI: HalloweenChapter XII: The First SnowChapter XIII: The FairChapter XIV: Christmas Happenings

 MAIDA’S LITTLE SHOP

 CHAPTER I: THE RIDE

Four people sat in the big, shining automobile. Three of them weremen. The fourth was a little girl. The little girl’s name was MaidaWestabrook. The three men were “Buffalo” Westabrook, her father, Dr. Pierce, her physician, and Billy Potter, her friend. They werecoming from Marblehead to Boston. 

Maida sat in one corner of the back seat gazing dreamily out at thewhirling country. She found it very beautiful and very curious. Theywere going so fast that all the reds and greens and yellows of theautumn trees melted into one variegated band. A moment later theycame out on the ocean. And now on the water side were two otherstreaks of color, one a spongy blue that was sky, another a clearshining blue that was sea. Maida half-shut her eyes and the wholeworld seemed to flash by in ribbons. 

“May I get out for a moment, papa?” she asked suddenly in a thinlittle 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 threemen watched her limp to the sea-wall. 

She was a child whom you would have noticed anywhere because of herluminous, strangely-quiet, gray eyes and because of the ethereallook given to her face by a floating mass of hair, pale-gold andtendrilly. And yet I think you would have known that she was a sicklittle girl at the first glance. When she moved, it was with a greatslowness as if everything tired her. She was so thin that her handswere like claws and her cheeks scooped in instead of out. She waspale, too, and somehow her eyes looked too big. Perhaps this wasbecause 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 quickabout it. Just what Greinschmidt feared has come—that languor—thatlack of interest in everything. You’ve got to find something for herto _do_. ”

Dr. Pierce spoke seriously. He was a round, short man, just exactlyas long any one way as any other. He had springy gray curls all overhis head and a nose like a button. Maida thought that he looked likea very old but a very jolly and lovable baby. When he laughed—and hewas always laughing with Maida—he shook all over like jelly that hasbeen turned out of a jar. His very curls bobbed. But it seemed toMaida that no matter how hard he chuckled, his eyes were alwaysserious 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 herhealth ever since Dr. Greinschmidt left. Dr. Greinschmidt was thegreat physician who had come all the way across the ocean fromGermany to make Maida well. Before the operation Maida could notwalk. Now she could walk easily. Ever since she could remember shehad always added to her prayers at night a special request that shemight some day be like other little girls. Now she was like otherlittle girls, except that she limped. And yet now that she could doall the things that other little girls did, she no longer cared todo them—not even hopping and skipping, which she had always expectedwould be the greatest fun in the world. Maida herself thought thisvery 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 notaccustomed to take advice from other people. Indeed, he did not lookit. But he looked his name. You would know at once why thecartoonists always represented him with the head of a buffalo; why, gradually, people had forgotten that his first name was Jerome andreferred to him always as “Buffalo” Westabrook. 

Like the buffalo, his head was big and powerful and emerged from themidst of a shaggy mane. But it was the way in which it was set onhis tremendous shoulders that gave him his nickname. When he spoketo you, he looked as if he were about to charge. And the glance ofhis eyes, set far back of a huge nose, cut through you like a pairof knives. 

It surprised Maida very much when she found that people stood in aweof her father. It had never occurred to her to be afraid of him. 

“I’ve racked my brains to entertain her, ” “Buffalo” Westabrook wenton. “I’ve bought her every gimcrack that’s made for children—hernursery 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 inthe Adirondacks. I’ve had a doll-house and a little theater builtfor her at Pride’s. She has her own carriage, her own automobile, her own railroad car. She can have her own flying-machine if shewants it. I’ve taken her off on trips. I’ve taken her to the theaterand the circus. I’ve had all kinds of nurses and governesses andcompanions, but they’ve been mostly failures. Granny Flynn’s thebest of the hired people, but of course Granny’s old. I’ve had otherchildren come to stay with her. Selfish little brutes they allturned out to be! They’d play with her toys and ignore hercompletely. And this fall I brought her to Boston, hoping hercousins would rouse her. But the Fairfaxes decided suddenly to goabroad 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 uswhat’s the matter?” “Buffalo” Westabrook smiled down at the thirdman of the party. 

“The trouble with the child, ” Billy Potter said promptly, “is thateverything she’s had has been ‘prize. ’ Not that it’s spoiled her atall. 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 littlething, she’s lived in a world of bottles and splints and bandages. She’s never had a chance to realize either the value or theworthlessness of things. ”

“And then, ” Billy went on, “nobody’s ever used an ounce ofimagination in entertaining the poor child. ”

“Imagination!” “Buffalo” Westabrook growled. “What has imaginationto do with it?”

Billy grinned. 

Next to her father and Granny Flynn, Maida loved Billy Potter betterthan anybody in the world. He was so little that she could neverdecide whether he was a boy or a man. His chubby, dimply face wasthe pinkest she had ever seen. From it twinkled a pair of blue eyesthe merriest she had ever seen. And falling continually down intohis eyes was a great mass of flaxen hair, the most tousled she hadever seen. 

Billy Potter lived in New York. He earned his living by writing fornewspapers and magazines. Whenever there was a fuss in WallStreet—and the papers always blamed “Buffalo” Westabrook if thishappened—Billy Potter would have a talk with Maida’s father. Then hewrote up what Mr. Westabrook said and it was printed somewhere. Menwho 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 twomen were great friends. 

“He’s one of the few reporters who can turn out a good story andtell it straight as I give it to him, ” Maida had once heard herfather say. Maida knew that Billy could turn out good stories—he hadturned 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 Potteranswered, “if somebody would only imagine the right thing. ”

“Well, imagine it yourself, ” Mr. Westabrook snarled. “Imaginationseems to be the chief stock-in-trade of you newspaper men. ”

Billy grinned. When Billy smiled, two things happened—one to you andthe other to him. Your spirits went up and his eyes seemed todisappear. Maida said that Billy’s eyes “skrinkled up. ” The effectwas so comic that she always laughed—not with him but at him. 

“All right, ” Billy agreed pleasantly; “I’ll put the greatestcreative mind of the century to work on the job. ”

“You put it to work at once, young man, ” Dr. Pierce said. “The thingI’m trying to impress on you both is that you can’t wait too long. ”

“Buffalo” Westabrook stirred uneasily. His fierce, blue eyesretreated behind the frown in his thick brows until all you couldsee were two shining points. He watched Maida closely as she limpedback to the car. “What are you thinking of, Posie?” he asked. 

“Oh, nothing, father, ” Maida said, smiling faintly. This was theanswer she gave most often to her father’s questions. “Is thereanything you want, Posie?” he was sure to ask every morning, or, “What would you like me to get you to-day, little daughter?” Theanswer was invariable, given always in the same soft, thin littlevoice: “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. “Howwould you like to see the house where I was born, Maida—that oldplace on Warrington Street I told you about yesterday. I think you’dlike it, Pinkwink. ”

“Pinkwink” was Dr. Pierce’s pet-name for Maida. 

“Oh, I’d love to see it. ” A little thrill of pleasure sparkled inMaida’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 comeaway from the sea and the streams of yellow and red and green trees. Maida pillowed her head on the cushions and stared fixedly at thepassing streets. But her little face wore a dreamy, withdrawn lookas if she were seeing something very far away. Whenever “Buffalo”Westabrook’s glance shot her way, his thick brows pulled togetherinto the frown that most people dreaded to face. 

“Now down the hill and then to the left, ” Dr. Pierce instructedHenri. 

Warrington Street was wide and old-fashioned. Big elms marching in adouble file between the fine old houses, met in an arch above theirroofs. At intervals along the curbstones were hitching-posts ofiron, most of them supporting the head of a horse with a ring in hisnose. One, the statue of a negro boy with his arms lifted above hishead, seemed to beg the honor of holding the reins. Beside thesehitching-posts were rectangular blocks of granite—stepping-stonesfor horseback riders and carriage folk. 

“There, Pinkwink, ” Dr. Pierce said; “that old house on thecorner—stop here, Henri, please—that’s where I was brought up. Theold swing used to hang from that tree and it was from that big boughstretching over the fence that I fell and broke my arm. ”

Maida’s eyes brightened. “And there’s the garret window where thesquirrels 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 streethas grown! Even the trees aren’t as tall as they should be. ”

Maida stared. The trees looked very high indeed to her. And shethought the street quite wide enough for anybody, the houses verystately. 

“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 ayard in front. 

“That’s where you covered the ceiling with spit-balls, ” Maida asked. 

“The same!” Dr. Pierce laughed heartily at the remembrance. Itseemed to Maida that she had never seen his curls bob quite sofuriously before. 

“It’s one of the few wooden, primary buildings left in the city, ” heexplained to the two men. “It can’t last many years now. It’snothing but a rat-trap but how I shall hate to see it go!”

Opposite the school was a big, wide court. Shaded with beautifultrees—maples beginning to flame, horse-chestnuts a little browned, it was lined with wooden toy houses, set back of fenced-in yards andveiled by climbing vines. Pigeons were flying about, alighting nowand then to peck at the ground or to preen their green and purplenecks. Boys were spinning tops. Girls were jumping rope. The dustthey kicked up had a sweet, earthy smell in Maida’s nostrils. As shestared, charmed with the picture, a little girl in a scarlet capeand 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 aman called Primrose who used to own a great deal of theneighborhood. ”

But Maida was scarcely listening. “Oh, what a cunning little shop!”she exclaimed. “There, opposite the court. What a perfectly darlinglittle place!”

“Good Lord! that’s Connors’, ” Dr. Pierce explained. “Many a recklesspenny 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 thewindow 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 lovethem!”

“Oh, father, buy me a pickled lime, ” Maida pleaded. “I never had onein 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 toa pickled lime. ”

A bell rang discordantly as they opened the door. Its prolongedclangor finally brought the old lady from the room at the back. Shelooked in surprise at the three men in their automobile coats and atthe little lame girl. 

Coming in from the bright sunshine, the shop seemed unpleasantlydark to Maida. After a while she saw that its two windows gave itlight enough but that it was very confused, cluttery and dusty. 

Mr. Westabrook bought four pickled limes and everybody ate—three ofthem 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 forBoston. “What a funny little place that was! Oh, how I would like tokeep a little shop just like it. ”

Billy Potter started. For a moment it seemed as if he were about tospeak. But instead, he stared hard at Maida, falling gradually intoa brown study. From time to time he came out of it long enough tolook sharply at her. The sparkle had all gone out of her face. Shewas pale and dream-absorbed again. 

Her father studied her with increasing anxiety as they neared thebig house on Beacon Street. Dr. Pierce’s face was shadowed too. 

“Eureka! I’ve found it!” Billy exclaimed as they swept past theState House. “I’ve got it, Mr. Westabrook. ”

“Got what?”

Billy did not answer at once. The automobile had stopped in front ofa big red-brick house. Over the beautifully fluted columns that heldup the porch hung a brilliant red vine. Lavender-colored glass, hereand there in the windows, made purple patches on the lace of thecurtains. 

“Got what?” Mr. Westabrook repeated impatiently. 

“That little job of the imagination that you put me on a few momentsago, ” Billy answered mysteriously. “In a moment, ” he added with asignificant look at Maida. “You stay too, Dr. Pierce. I want yourapproval. ”

The door of the beautiful old house had opened and a man in liverycame out to assist Maida. On the threshold stood an oldsilver-haired woman in a black-silk gown, a white cap and apron, a littleblack 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 asudden flare of enthusiasm, “I saw the cunningest little shop. Ithink 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. 

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Maida went upstairs with Granny Flynn. 

Granny Flynn had come straight to the Westabrook house from the boatthat brought her from Ireland years ago. She had come to America insearch of a runaway daughter but she had never found her. She hadhelped to nurse Maida’s mother in the illness of which she died andshe had always taken such care of Maida herself that Maida loved herdearly. Sometimes when they were alone, Maida would call her “Dame, ”because, she said, “Granny looks just like the ‘Dame’ who comes intofairy-tales. ”

Granny Flynn was very little, very bent, very old. “A t’ousand andnoine, sure, ” she always answered when Maida asked her how old. Herskin had cracked into a hundred wrinkles and her long sharp nose andher short sharp chin almost met. But the wrinkles surrounded a pairof eyes that were a twinkling, youthful blue. And her down-turnednose and up-growing chin could not conceal or mar the lovelysweetness of her smile. 

Just before Maida went to bed that night, she was surprised by avisit from her father. 

“Posie, ” he said, sitting down on her bed, “did you really mean itto-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 homefrom our ride this afternoon. A little shop, you know, just like theone we saw to-day. ”

“Very well, dear, you shall keep a shop. You shall keep that veryone. I’m going to buy out the business for you and put you in chargethere. I’ve got to be in New York pretty steadily for the next threemonths and I’ve decided that I’ll send you and Granny to live in therooms over the shop. I’ll fix the place all up for you, give youplenty of money to stock it and then I expect you to run it and makeit pay. ”

Maida sat up in bed with a vigor that surprised her father. Sheshook her hands—a gesture that, with her, meant great delight. Shelaughed. It was the first time in months that a happy note hadpealed 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 workhelps. ”

“All right. That’s settled. But listen carefully to what I’m goingto 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 theshop—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 hergrandchild. You won’t have to tell any lies about it. When thechildren in the neighborhood hear you call her ‘Granny, ’ they’llsimply 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 helpyou. You’re to call on him, Posie, if you get into any snarl. But Ihope you’ll try to settle all your own difficulties before turningto 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 sleepto-night—just thinking of it. ”

But she did sleep and very hard—the best sleep she had known sinceher operation. And she dreamed that she opened a shop—a big shopthis was—on the top of a huge white cloud. She dreamed that hercustomers were all little boy and girl angels with floating, goldencurls and shining rainbow-colored wings. She dreamed that she soldnothing but cake. She used to cut generous slices from an angel-cakeas big as the golden dome of the Boston state house. It was verydelicious—all honey and jelly and ice cream on the inside, and allfrosting, stuck with candies and nuts and fruits, on the outside. 

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The people on Warrington Street were surprised to learn in thecourse of a few days that old Mrs. Murdock had sold out her businessin the little corner store. For over a week, the little place wasshut up. The school children, pouring into the street twice a day, had to go to Main Street for their candy and lead pencils. For along time all the curtains were kept down. Something was going oninside, but what, could not be guessed from the outside. Wagonsdeposited all kinds of things at the door, rolls of paper, tins ofpaint, furniture, big wooden boxes whose contents nobody couldguess. Every day brought more and more workmen and the more therewere, the harder they worked. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, allthe work stopped. 

The next morning when the neighborhood waked up, a freshly-paintedsign had taken the place over the door of the dingy old black andwhite one. The lettering was gilt, the background a skyey blue. Itread:

 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 thewholesale places. And in the fourth place, the rooms must be madeready for her and Granny to live in. It was hard work, but it wasgreat fun. 

First, Mrs. Murdock called, at Billy’s request, at his rooms onMount Vernon Street. Granny and Maida were there to meet her. 

Mrs. Murdock was a tall, thin, erect old lady. Her bright black eyeswere piercing enough, but it seemed to Maida that the round-glassedspectacles, 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 onthe shelves. Now about buying—there’s a wagon comes round once amonth and I’ve told them to keep right on a-coming even though Iain’t there. They’ll sell you your candy, pickles, pickled limes andall 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 placeswhere 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 helooked at that lady, his eyes “skrinkled up, ” although there was nota smile on his face. 

“A week is all I need, ” Mrs. Murdock declared. “If it worn’t forother folks who are keeping me waiting, I’d have that hull placefixed as clean as a whistle in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Now I’llput a price on everything, so’s you won’t be bothered what tocharge. There’s some things I don’t ever git, because folks buy toomany of them and it’s sich an everlasting bother keeping them instock. But you’re young and spry, and maybe you won’t mind jumpingabout for every Tom, Dick and Harry. But, remember, ” she added inparting, “don’t git expensive things. Folks in that neighborhoodain’t got no money to fool away. Git as many things as you can for acent a-piece. Git some for five and less for ten and nothing forover a quarter. But you must allus callulate to buy some things tolose money on. I mean the truck you put in the window jess to makefolks look in. It gits dusty and fly-specked before you know it andthere’s an end on it. I allus send them to the Home for LittleWanderers 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 thesubway. Maida had never walked so far in her life. But her fatherhad told her that if she wanted to keep the shop, she must give upher carriage and her automobile. That was not hard. She was willingto give up anything that she owned for the little shop. 

They left the car at City Square in Charlestown and walked the restof the way. It was Saturday, a brilliant morning in a beautifulautumn. All the children in the neighborhood were out playing. Maidalooked at each one of them as she passed. They seemed as wonderfulas fairy beings to her—for would they not all be her customers soon?And yet, such was her excitement, she could not remember one faceafter she had passed it. A single picture remained in her mind—apicture of a little girl standing alone in the middle of the court. Black-haired, black-eyed, a vivid spot of color in a scarlet capeand a scarlet hat, the child was scattering bread-crumbs to a flockof pigeons. The pigeons did not seem afraid of her. They flew closeto 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 wentout of her head entirely when she unlocked the door of the littleshop. 

“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 itsblackened ceiling, it still seemed dark and dingy. 

Maida ran behind the counter, peeped into the show cases, poked herhead into the window, drew out the drawers that lined the wall, pulled covers from the boxes on the shelves. There is no knowingwhere her investigations would have ended if Billy had not said:

“See here, Miss Curiosity, we can’t put in the whole morning on theshop. This is a preliminary tour of investigation. Come and see therest of it. This way to the living-room!”

The living-room led from the shop—a big square room, empty now, ofcourse. 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 pockethandkerchief, is it?”

And yet, scrap of a place as the yard was, it had an air ofcompleteness, a pretty quaintness. Two tiny brick walks curved fromthe door to the gate. On either side of these spread out microscopicflower-beds, crowded tight with plants. Late-blooming dahlias andasters made spots of starry color in the green. A vine, running overthe door to the second story, waved like a crimson banner droppedfrom the window. 

“The old lady must have been fond of flowers, ” Billy Potter said. Hesquinted his near-sighted blue eyes and studied the bunches ofgreen. “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 upin the spring!”

Maida jumped up and down at the thought. She could not jump likeother children. Indeed, this was the first time that she had evertried. It was as if her feet were like flat-irons. Granny Flynnturned 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 thekitchen. ”

The kitchen led from the living-room. Billy exclaimed when he saw itand Maida shook her hands, but it was Granny who actually screamedwith delight. 

Much bigger than the living-room, it had four windows with sunshinepouring in through every one of them. But it was not the fourwindows nor yet the sunshine that made the sensation—it was thestone floor. 

“We’ll put a carpet on it if you think it’s too cold, Granny, ” Billysuggested immediately. 

“Oh, lave it be, Misther Billy, ” Granny begged. “’Tis loike me ouldhome in Oireland. Sure ’tis homesick Oi am this very minut lookingat 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 morethan three feet wide, with steps very high, most of them triangularin shape because the stairway had to turn so often. Andupstairs—after they got there—consisted of three rooms, two big andsquare 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 youhave, Maida?”

Maida examined both rooms carefully. “Well, I don’t care for myselfwhich I have, ” she said. “But it does seem as if there were ateeny-weeny more sun in this one. I think Granny ought to have it, forshe loves the sunshine on her old bones. You know, Billy, Granny and Ihave the greatest fun about our bones. Hers are all wrong becausethey’re so old, and mine are all wrong because they’re so young. ”

“All right, ” Billy agreed. “Sunshiny one for Granny, shady one foryou. That’s settled! I hope you realize, Miss Maida, Elizabeth, Fairfax, Petronilla, Pinkwink, Posie Westabrook what perfectly bullyrooms 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 musthave been a long, long, long time ago. ”

“Just look at the floors, ” Billy went on admiringly. “See how uneventhey are. You’ll have to walk straight here, Petronilla, to keepfrom 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 herwrinkled hands. “Manny’s the toime Oi’ve snibbed a latch loike thatin Oireland, ” she said, and she smiled so hard that her verywrinkles seemed to twinkle. 

“And look at the windows, Granny, ” Billy said. “Sixteen panes ofglass each. I hope you’ll make Petronilla wash them. ”

“Oh, Granny, will you let me wash the windows?” Maida askedecstatically. 

“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’sall finished before you see hide or hair of it. ”

“I know I’ll die of curiosity, ” Maida protested. “But then of courseI shall be very busy with my own business. ”

“Ah, yes, ” Billy replied. “Now that you’ve embarked on a mercantilecareer, Miss Westabrook, I think you’ll find that you’ll have lessand less time for the decorative side of life. ”

Billy spoke so seriously that most little girls would have been awedby his manner. But Maida recognized the tone that he always employedwhen he was joking her. Beside, his eyes were all “skrinkled up. ”She did not quite understand what the joke was, but she smiled backat him. 

“Now can we look at the things downstairs?” she pleaded. 

“Yes, ” Billy assented. “To-day is a very important day. Behindlocked doors and sealed windows, we’re going to take account ofstock. ”

Granny Flynn remained in the bedrooms to make all kinds ofmysterious 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 anddrawers and drawers and drawers. Every one of these had beencarefully gone over by the conscientious Mrs. Murdock. Two boxesbulged with toys, too broken or soiled to be of any use. These theythrew into the ash-barrel at once. What was left they dumped on thefloor. Maida and Billy sat down beside the heap and examined thethings, one by one. Maida had never seen such toys in her life—socheap and yet so amusing. 

It was hard work to keep to business with such enchanting temptationto play all about them. Billy insisted on spinning every top—he gotfive going at once—on blowing every balloon—he produced suchdreadful wails of agony that Granny came running downstairs in greatalarm—on jumping with every jump-rope—the short ones tripped him upand once he sprawled headlong—on playing jackstones—Maida beat himeasily at this—on playing marbles—with a piece of crayon he drew aring on the floor—on looking through all the books—he declared thathe was going to buy some little penny-pamphlet fairy-tales as soonas he could save the money. But in spite of all this fooling, theyreally accomplished a great deal. 

They found very few eatables—candy, fruit, or the like. Mrs. Murdockhad wisely sold out this perishable stock. One glass jar, however, was crammed full of what Billy recognized to be “bulls-eyes”—roundlumps of candy as big as plums and as hard as stones. Billy saidthat he loved bulls-eyes better than terrapin or broiled livelobster, 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 hadthe toothache. 

They came across all kinds of odds and ends—lead pencils, blank-books, an old slate pencil wrapped in gold paper which Billyinsisted on using to draw pictures on a slate—he made this squeak sothat Maida clapped her hands over her ears. They found single piecesfrom sets of miniature furniture, a great many dolls, rag-dolls, china dolls, celluloid dolls, the latest bisque beauties, and twoold-fashioned waxen darlings whose features had all run togetherfrom being left in too great a heat. 

They went through all these things, sorting them into heaps whichthey afterwards placed in boxes. At noon, Billy went out and boughtlunch. Still squatting on the floor, the three of them atesandwiches and drank milk. Granny said that Maida had never eaten somuch at one meal. 

All this happened on Saturday. Maida did not see the little shopagain until it was finished. 

By Monday the place was as busy as a beehive. Men were putting in afurnace, putting in a telephone, putting in a bathroom, whiteningthe plaster, painting the woodwork. 

Finally came two days of waiting for the paint to dry. “Will itever, _ever_, EVER dry?” Maida used to ask Billy in the mostdespairing 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 wholesaleplaces in Boston picking out new stock. Granny Flynn accompanied heror stayed at home, according to the way she felt, but Billy nevermissed a trip. 

Maida enjoyed this tremendously, although often she had to go to bedbefore dark. She said it was the responsibility that tired her. 

To Maida, these big wholesale places seemed like the storehouses ofSanta Claus. In reality they were great halls, lined with parallelrows of counters. The counters were covered with boxes and the boxeswere filled with toys. Along the aisles between the counters movedcrowds of buyers, busily examining the display. 

It was particularly hard for Maida to choose, because she waslimited by price. She kept recalling Mrs. Murdock’s advice, “Get asmany things as you can for a cent a-piece. ” The expensive toystempted her, but although she often stopped and looked themwistfully over, she always ended by going to the cheaper counters. 

“You ought to be thinking how you’ll decorate the windows for yourfirst day’s sale, ” Billy advised her. “You must make it look astempting as possible. I think, myself, it’s always a good plan todisplay 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 herwindows were going to look. 

Saturday night, Billy told her that everything was ready, that sheshould see the completed house Monday morning. It seemed to Maidathat the Sunday coming in between was the longest day that she hadever known. 

When she unlocked the door to the shop, the next morning, she letout a little squeal of joy. “Oh, I would never know it, ” shedeclared. “How much bigger it looks, and lighter and prettier!”

Indeed, you would never have known the place yourself. The ceilinghad been whitened. The faded drab woodwork had been painted white. The walls had been colored a beautiful soft yellow. Back of thecounter a series of shelves, glassed in by sliding doors, ran thewhole length of the wall and nearly to the ceiling. Behind the showcase stood a comfortable, cushioned swivel-chair. 

“The stuff you’ve been buying, Petronilla, ” Billy said, pointing toa big pile of boxes in the corner. “Now, while Granny and I areputting some last touches to the rooms upstairs, you might bearranging the window. ”

“That’s just what I planned to do, ” Maida said, bubbling withimportance. “But you promise not to interrupt me till it’s alldone. ”

“All right, ” Billy agreed, smiling peculiarly. He continued to smileas he opened the boxes. 

It did not occur to Maida to ask them what they were going to doupstairs. It did not occur to her even to go up there. From time totime, 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 toBilly 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 allsizes and colors were arranged in pretty patterns in the middle. Marbles of all kinds from the ten-for-a-cent “peeweezers” up to themost beautiful, colored “agates” were displayed at the sides. Jump-ropes of variegated colors with handles, brilliantly painted, werefestooned at the back. One of the window shelves had been furnishedlike a tiny room. A whole family of dolls sat about on the tinysofas and chairs. On the other shelf lay neat piles of blank-booksand paper-blocks, with files of pens, pencils, and rubbers arrangedin a decorative pattern surrounding them all. 

In the show case, fresh candies had been laid out carefully onsaucers and platters of glass. On the counter was a big, floweredbowl. 

“To-morrow, I’m going to fill that bowl with asters, ” Maidaexplained. 

“OI’m sure the choild has done foine, ” Granny Flynn said, “Oi cudn’thave done betther mesilf. ”

“Now come and look at your rooms, Petronilla, ” Billy begged, hiseyes dancing. 

Maida opened the door leading into the living-room. Then shesquealed her delight, not once, but continuously, like a very happylittle pig. 

The room was as changed as if some good fairy had waved a magic wandthere. All the woodwork had turned a glistening white. The wallpaper blossomed with garlands of red roses, tied with snoods of redribbons. At each of the three windows waved sash curtains of a snowymuslin. At each of the three sashes hung a golden cage with a pairof golden canaries in it. Along each of the three sills marched potsof brilliantly-blooming scarlet geraniums. A fire spluttered andsparkled in the fireplace, and drawn up in front of it was a bigeasy chair for Granny, and a small easy one for Maida. Familiarthings lay about, too. In one corner gleamed the cheerful face ofthe tall old clock which marked the hours with so silvery a voiceand the moon-changes by such pretty pictures. In another cornershone the polished surface of a spidery-legged little spinet. Maidaloved both these things almost as much as if they had been humanbeings, for her mother and her grandmother and her great-grandmotherhad loved them before her. Needed things caught her eyes everywhere. Here was a little bookcase with all her favorite books. There was adesk, stocked with business-like-looking blank-books. Even thefamiliar table with Granny’s “Book of Saints” stood near the easychair. Granny’s spectacles lay on an open page, familiarly markingthe place. 

In the center of the room stood a table set for three. 

“It’s just the dearest place, ” Maida said. “Billy, you’ve rememberedeverything. I thought I heard a bird peep once, but I was too busyto think about it. ”

“Want to go upstairs?” Billy asked. 

“I’d forgotten all about bedrooms. ” Maida flew up the stairs as ifshe 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 gayfrom the beautiful paper that Billy had selected. In Granny’s room, the walls imitated a flowered chintz. But in Maida’s room everypanel was different. And they all helped to tell the same happystory of a day’s hunting in the time when men wore long featheredhats on their curls, when ladies dressed like pictures and allcarried falcons on their wrists. 

“Granny, Granny, ” Maida called down to them, “Did you ever see anyplace 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 thelittle shop. 

 CHAPTER III: THE FIRST DAY

If you had gone into the little shop the next day, you would haveseen a very pretty picture. 

First of all, I think you would have noticed the little girl who satbehind the counter—a little girl in a simple blue-serge dress and afresh white “tire”—a little girl with shining excited eyes andmasses of pale-gold hair, clinging in tendrilly rings about a thin, heart-shaped face—a little girl who kept saying as she turned roundand 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 tothe living-room door—an old woman in a black gown and a white apronso stiffly starched that it rattled when it touched anything—an oldwoman with twinkling blue eyes and hair, enclosing, as in a silverframe, a little carved nut of a face—an old woman who kept soothingthe 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 ofasters, red, white and blue. 

“Three cheers for the red, white and blue, ” Maida sang when shearranged 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 wouldhave thought she had turned to stone. But her eyes, glued to themoving 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 thetime he looked Maida straight in the eye. But you would have thoughthe 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 biteher lips to keep from laughing. “Yes, ” she said, when she had madeher 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 likedso 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, littleboy?”

Billy’s face twitched suddenly and his eyes “skrinkled up. ” Maidasaw with a mischievous delight that he, in his turn, was trying tokeep the laughter back. 

“Yes, mum, ” he said, making his face quite serious again. “Myteacher says I’m the best reader in the room. ”

He took up the little books and looked them over. “‘The ThreeBoars’—no, ‘Bears, ’” he corrected himself. “‘Puss-in-Boats’—no, ‘Boots’; ‘Jack-and-the-Bean-Scalp’—no, ‘Stalk’; ‘Jack theJoint-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, ’ ‘TheBabes in the Wood. ’ I guess I’ll take these ten, mum. ”

He felt in all his pockets, one after another. After a long time, hebrought 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 inastonishment. Was he really going for good?

In a few minutes the little bell tinkled a second time and therestood Billy again. 

“Good morning, Petronilla, ” he said pleasantly, as if he had notseen her before that morning, “How’s business?”

“Fine!” Maida responded promptly. “I’ve just sold ten fairy books tothe 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 yousomething. ”

He opened the bag he carried and took a box out from it. “Hold outyour two hands, —it’s heavy, ” he warned. 

In spite of his preparation, the box nearly fell to the floor—it wasso much heavier than Maida expected. “What can be in it?” she criedexcitedly. She pulled the cover off—then murmured a little “oh!” ofdelight. 

The box was full—cram-jam full—of pennies; pennies so new that theylooked like gold—pennies so many that they looked like a fortune. 

“Gracious, what pretty money!” Maida exclaimed. “There must be amillion here. ”

“Five hundred, ” Billy corrected her. 

He put some tiny cylindrical rolls of paper on the counter. Maidahandled them curiously—they, too, were heavy. 

“Open them, ” Billy commanded. 

Maida pulled the papers away from the tops. Bright new dimes fellout of one, bright new nickels came from the other. 

“Oh, I’m so glad to have nice clean money, ” Maida said in asatisfied tone. She emptied the money drawer and filled its pocketswith the shining coins. “It was very kind of you to think of it, Billy. I know it will please the children. ” The thought made hereyes sparkle. 

The bell rang again. Billy went out to talk with Granny, leavingMaida alone to cope with her first strange customer. 

Again her heart began to jump into her throat. Her mouth felt dry onthe inside. She watched the door, fascinated. 

On the threshold two little girls were standing. They were exactlyof the same size, they were dressed in exactly the same way, theirfaces were as alike as two peas in a pod. Maida saw at once thatthey were twins. They had little round, chubby bodies, bulging outof red sweaters; little round, chubby faces, emerging from tall, peaky, red-worsted caps. They had big round eyes as expressionlessas glass beads and big round golden curls as stiff as candles. Theystared so hard at Maida that she began to wonder nervously if herface were dirty. 

“Come in, little girls, ” she called. 

The little girls pattered over to the show case and looked in. Buttheir big round eyes, instead of examining the candy, kept peeringup through the glass top at Maida. And Maida kept peering downthrough it at them. 

“I want to buy some candy for a cent, ” one of them whispered in atimid little voice. 

“I want to buy some candy for a cent, too, ” the other whispered in avoice, 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 otheranswered. They discussed everything in the one-cent case. Alwaysthey talked in whispers. And they continued to look more often atMaida 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 orthree moments they whispered together. At one point, it looked as ifthey would each buy a long stick of peppermint, at another, a paperof lozenges. But they changed their minds a great many times. And inthe end, Dorothy bought two large pickles and Mabel bought two largechocolates. Maida saw them swapping their purchases as they wentout. 

The two pennies which the twins handed her were still moist from thehot little hands that had held them. Maida dropped them into anempty pocket in the money drawer. She felt as if she wanted to keepher first earnings forever. It seemed to her that she had never seensuch _precious-looking_ money. The gold eagles which her father hadgiven her at Christmas and on her birthday did not seem half sovaluable. 

But she did not have much time to think of all this. The bell rangagain. This time it was a boy—a big fellow of about fourteen, sheguessed, an untidy-looking boy with large, intent black eyes. A massof black hair, which surely had not been combed, fell about a facethat as certainly had not been washed that morning. 

“Give me one of those blue tops in the window, ” he said gruffly. Hedid not add these words but his manner seemed to say, “And be quickabout it!” He threw his money down on the counter so hard that oneof 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 heexpected her to cheat him. Then he walked out. 

It was getting towards school-time. Children seemed to spring upeverywhere as if they grew out of the ground. The quiet streetsbegan to ring with the cries of boys playing tag, leap frog andprisoners’ base. The little girls, much more quiet, squatted ingroups on doorsteps or walked slowly up and down, arm-in-arm. ButMaida had little time to watch this picture. The bell was ringingevery minute now. Once there were six children in the little shoptogether. 

“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 forall kinds of things and sometimes she could not remember where shehad put them. When in answer to the school bell the long lines beganto form at the big doorways, two round red spots were glowing inMaida’s cheeks. She drew an involuntary sigh of relief when sherealized that she was going to have a chance to rest. But first shecounted the money she had taken in. Thirty-seven cents! It seemed agreat deal to her. 

For an hour or more, nobody entered the shop. Billy left in a littlewhile for Boston. Granny, crooning an old Irish song, busied herselfupstairs in her bedroom. Maida sat back in her chair, dreaminghappily of her work. Suddenly the bell tinkled, rousing her with astart. 

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 whostood on the threshold was lame. Maida would have known that he wassick even if she had not seen the crutches that held him up, or theiron cage that confined one leg. 

His face was as colorless as if it had been made of melted wax. Hisforehead was lined almost as if he were old. A tired expression inhis eyes showed that he did not sleep like other children. He mustoften suffer, too—his mouth had a drawn look that Maida knew well. 

The little boy moved slowly over to the counter. It could hardly besaid that he walked. He seemed to swing between his crutches exactlyas a pendulum swings in a tall clock. Perhaps he saw the sympathythat ran from Maida’s warm heart to her pale face, for before hespoke he smiled. And when he smiled you could not possibly think ofhim as sick or sad. The corners of his mouth and the corners of hiseyes seemed to fly up together. It made your spirits leap just tolook 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 anybodyhad 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 turnedhopefully. “Mrs. Murdock always kept her tissue paper in that drawerthere, ” he said, pointing. 

“Oh, yes, I do remember, ” Maida exclaimed. She recalled now a fewsheets of tissue paper that she had left there, not knowing what todo with them. She pulled the drawer open. There they were, neatlyfolded, 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 luckI wasn’t expecting. ”

He spread the half dozen sheets out on the counter and ran throughthem. He looked up into Maida’s face as if he wanted to thank herbut 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 neverknow it for the same place. And your sign’s a crackajack. ”

The praise—the first she had had from outside—pleased Maida. Itemboldened 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 beseen, 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 cango next year, he thinks. I’m wild to go. The other fellows hateschool but I love it. I s’pose it’s because I can’t go that I wantto. But, then, I want to learn to read. A fellow can have a goodtime anywhere if he knows how to read. I can read some, ” he added ina shamed tone, “but not much. The trouble is I don’t have anybody tolisten and help with the hard words. ”

“Oh, let me help you!” Maida cried. “I can read as easy asanything. ” This was the second thing she regretted saying. For whenshe came to think of it, she could not see where she was going tohave 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. Mymother works out and I have to do most of the housework and takecare of the baby. Pretty slow work on crutches, you know—althoughit’s easy enough getting round after you get the hang of it. No, Ireally don’t have any time to fool until evenings. ”

“Evenings!” Maida exclaimed electrically. “Why, that’s just theright time! You see I’m pretty busy myself during the daytime—at mybusiness. ” 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 pitywhen they fell on the little lame boy. “The poor little gossoon!”she murmured. 

“Granny, ” Maida explained, “this little boy can’t go to schoolbecause his mother works all day and he has to do the housework andtake care of the baby, too, and he wants to learn to read because hethinks 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 mylegs after I learned to read. ”

It had all poured out in an uninterrupted stream. She had to stophere to get breath. 

“Now, Granny, what I want you to do is to let me hear him readevenings until he learns how. You see his mother comes home then andhe can leave the baby with her. Oh, do let me do it, Granny! I’msure I could. And I really think you ought to. For, if you’ll excuseme for saying so, Granny, I don’t think you can understand as wellas 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 ‘TreasureIsland’ and ‘The Princes and the Goblins’ and ‘The Princess andCurdie. ’” She reeled off the long list of her favorites. 

In the meantime, Granny was considering the matter. Dr. Pierce hadsaid to her of Maida: “Let her do anything that she wants to do—aslong as it doesn’t interfere with her eating and sleeping. The mainthing 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 toMaida. “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 likea clock. ”

“We’ll begin next week, Monday, ” Maida said eagerly. “You come overhere right after dinner. ”

“All right. ” The little lame boy looked very happy but, again, hedid not seem to know what to say. “Thank you, ma’am, ” he brought outfinally. “And you, too, ” turning to Maida. 

“My name’s Maida. ”

“Thank you, Maida, ” the boy said with even a greater display ofbashfulness. He settled the crutches under his thin shoulders. 

“Oh, don’t go, yet, ” Maida pleaded. “I want to ask you somequestions. 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 Dorothyfrom Mabel or Mabel from Dorothy. ”

“I can’t, either, ” Maida laughed. “It must be fun to be a twin—tohave any kind of a sister or brother. Who’s that big boy—the onewith 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 couldlick any boy of his size in the world. I bet he could lick hisweight in wild-cats. ”

Maida’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t like him, ” she said. “He’s notpolite. ”

“Well, I like him, ” Dicky Dore maintained stoutly. “He’s the bestfriend I’ve got anywhere. Arthur hasn’t any mother, and his father’sgone all day. He takes care of himself. He comes over to my place alot. You’ll like him when you know him. ”

The bell tinkling on his departure did not ring again till noon. ButMaida 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 littleschoolhouse and disappear in all directions. At two, she watchedthem reappear from all directions and pour into it again. Butbetween those hours she was so busy that she did not have time toeat her lunch until school began again. After that, she satundisturbed for an hour. 

In the middle of the afternoon, the bell rang with animportant-sounding tinkle. Immediately after, the door shut with animportant-sounding slam. The footsteps, clattering across the room tothe show case, had an important-sounding tap. And the little girl, wholooked inquisitively across the counter at Maida, had decidedly animportant manner. 

She was not a pretty child. Her skin was too pasty, her blue eyestoo full and staring. But she had beautiful braids of glossy brownhair that came below her waist. And you would have noticed her atonce because of the air with which she wore her clothes and becauseof a trick of holding her head very high. 

Maida could see that she was dressed very much more expensively thanthe other children in the neighborhood. Her dark, blue coat waselaborate with straps and bright buttons. Her pale-blue beaver hatwas covered with pale-blue feathers. She wore a gold ring with aturquoise in it, a silver bracelet with a monogram on it, a littlegun-metal watch pinned to her coat with a gun-metal pin, and a longstring of blue beads from which dangled a locket. 

Maida noticed all this decoration with envy, for she herself wasnever permitted to wear jewelry. Occasionally, Granny would let herwear one string from a big box of bead necklaces which Maida hadbought in Venice. 

“How much is that candy?” the girl asked, pointing to one of thetrays. 

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 wenton 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 weexpected to-day didn’t come. ”

“The little girl likes to make people think that she has nicerthings than anybody else, ” Maida thought. She started to speak. Ifshe had permitted herself to go on, she would have said: “The candyin this shop is quite good enough for any little girl. But I won’tsell it to you, anyway. ” But, instead, she said as quietly as shecould: “No, I don’t believe there’s anything here that you’ll carefor. But I’m sure you’ll find lots of expensive candy on MainStreet. ”

The little girl evidently was not expecting that answer. Shelingered, still looking into the show case. “I guess I’ll take fivecents’ worth of peppermints, ” she said finally. Some of theimportance had gone out of her voice. 

Maida put the candy into a bag and handed it to her withoutspeaking. The girl bustled towards the door. Half-way, she stoppedand came back. 

“My name is Laura Lathrop, ” she said. “What’s yours?”

“Maida. ”

“Maida?” the girl repeated questioningly. “Maida?—oh, yes, Iknow—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 littleincredulous. 

“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 itwas evident that she decided to believe Maida. 

“I live in Primrose Court, ” she said, and now there was not a shadowof condescension left in her voice. “That large house at the backwith the big lawn about it. I’d like to have you come and play withme some afternoon. I’m very busy most of the time, though. I takemusic and fancy dancing and elocution. Next winter, I’m going totake up French. I’ll send you word some afternoon when I have timeto play. ”

“Thank you, ” Maida said in her most civil voice. “Come and play withme 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, ” shecalled impetuously, “a little girl’s been here who I think is thehatefullest, 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—” Sheinterrupted herself to think hard a moment. “Well, it’s the queerestthing. I can’t tell you a thing she did, Granny, and yet, all thetime she was here I wanted to slap her. ”

“There’s manny folks that-a-way, ” said Granny. “The woisest way isto take no notuce av ut. ”

“Take no notice of it!” Maida stormed. “It’s just like not takingany notice of a bee when it’s stinging you. ”

Maida was so angry that she walked into the living-room withoutlimping. 

At four that afternoon, when the children came out of school, therewas another flurry of trade. Towards five, it slackened. Maida satin her swivel-chair and wistfully watched the scene in the court. Little boys were playing top. Little girls were jumping rope. Onceshe saw a little girl in a scarlet cape come out of one of theyards. On one shoulder perched a fluffy kitten. Following her, gamboled an Irish setter and a Skye terrier. Presently it grew darkand the children began to go indoors. Maida lighted the gas and lostherself in “Gulliver’s Travels. ”

The sound of voices attracted her attention after awhile. She turnedin her chair. Outside, staring into the window, stood a little boyand girl—a ragged, dirty pair. Their noses pressed so hard againstthe glass that they were flattened into round white circles. Theytook no notice of Maida. Dropping her eyes to her book, shepretended to read. 

“I boneys that red top, first, ” said the little boy in a pipingvoice. 

He was a round, brown, pop-eyed, big-mouthed little creature. Maidacould not decide which he looked most like—a frog or a brownie. Shechristened him “the Bogle” at once. 

“I boneys that little pink doll with the curly hair, first, ” saidthe girl. 

She was a round, brown little creature, too—but pretty. She hadmerry brown eyes and a merry little red and white smile. Maidachristened 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. Shewent to the door. “Come in, children, ” she called. 

The children jumped and started to run away. But they stopped alittle way off, turned and stood as if they were not certain what todo. Finally the Robin marched over to Maida’s side and the Boglefollowed. 

“Tell me about the game you were playing, ” Maida said. “I neverheard of it before. ”

“’Tain’t any game, ” the Bogle said. 

“We were just boneying, ” the Robin explained. “Didn’t you ever boneyanything?”

“No. ”

“Why, you boneys things in store windows, ” the Robin went on. “Youalways boney with somebody else. You choose one thing for yours andthey choose something else for theirs until everything in the windowis all chosen up. But of course they don’t really belong to you. Youonly play they do. ”

“I see, ” Maida said. 

She went to the window and took out the red top and the little pinkdoll 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 kissedthe little pink doll ecstatically, stopping now and then to lookgratefully at Maida. 

“Thank you, ” the Bogle echoed. He did not look at Maida but he beganat once to wind his top. 

“What is your name?” Maida asked. 

“Molly Doyle, ” the Robin answered. “And this is my brother, TimmieDoyle. ”

“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 mydoll ‘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 lockedthe shop. 

After dinner she thought she would read one of her new books. Shesettled herself in her little easy chair by the fire and opened to astory with a fascinating picture. But the moment her eyes fell onthe page—it was the strangest thing—a drowsiness, as deep as afairy’s enchantment, fell upon her. She struggled with it forawhile, but she could not throw it off. The next thing she knew, Granny was helping her up the stairs, was undressing her, had laidher in her bed. The next thing she was saying dreamily, “I made onedollar and eighty-seven cents to-day. If my papa ever gets into anymore 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 wasmorning again. 

 CHAPTER IV: THE SECOND DAY

It had rained all that night, but the second morning dawned thetwinklingest kind of day. It seemed to Maida that Mother Nature hadwashed a million tiny, fleecy, white clouds and hung them out to dryin the crisp blue air. Everything still dripped but the brilliantsunshine put a sparkle on the whole world. Slates of old roofsglistened, brasses of old doors glittered, silver of old name-platesshone. Curbstones, sidewalks, doorsteps glimmered and gleamed. Thewet, ebony-black trunks of the maples smoked as if they were afire, their thick-leaved, golden heads flared like burning torches. Maidastood for a long time at the window listening to a parrot who calledat intervals from somewhere in the neighborhood. “Get up, yousleepy-heads! Get up! Get up!”

A huge puddle stretched across Primrose Court. When Maida took herplace in the swivel-chair, three children had begun already to floatshingles across its muddy expanse. Two of them were Molly and TimDoyle, the third a little girl whom Maida did not know. For a timeshe watched them, fascinated. But, presently, the school childrencrowding into the shop took all her attention. After the bell rangand the neighborhood had become quiet again, she resumed her watchof 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 waterinto waves, as they trotted in the wake of their frail craft, theymanaged to sail them from one end of the puddle to the other. Maidafollowed the progress of these merchant vessels as breathlessly astheir owners. Some capsized utterly. Others started to founder andhad to be dragged ashore. A few brought the cruise to a triumphantfinish. 

But Tim soon put an end to this fun. Unexpectedly, his foot caughtsomewhere and he sprawled headlong in the tide. “Oh, Tim!” Mollysaid. But she said it without surprise or anger. And Tim lay flat onhis stomach without moving, as if it were a common occurrence withhim. Molly waded out to him, picked him up and marched him into thehouse. 

The other little girl had disappeared. Suddenly she came out of oneof the yards, clasping a Teddy-bear and a whole family of dolls inher fat arms. She sat down at the puddle’s edge and began to undressthem. Maida idly watched the busy little fingers—one, two, three, four, five—now there were six shivering babies. What was she goingto 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 ascream. For suddenly the little girl threw the Teddy-bear and allthe six dolls into the puddle. Maida ran out the door. Half-wayacross the court she met Dicky Dore swinging through the water. Between them they fished all the dolls out. One was of celluloid andanother of rubber—they had floated into the middle of the pond. Twochina babies had sunk to the very bottom—their white faces smiledplacidly up through the water at their rescuers. A little rag-dolllay close to the shore, water-logged. A pretty paper-doll had meltedto a pulp. And the biggest and prettiest of them, a lovely blondecreature with a shapely-jointed body and a bisque head, covered withgolden curls, looked hopelessly bedraggled. 

“Oh, Betsy Hale!” Dicky said. “You naughty, naughty girl! How couldyou 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 eyesall tangled up in eyelashes and a little pink rosebud of a mouth, folded over two rows of mice-teeth. She smiled deliciously up intoMaida’s face:

“I aren’t naughty, is I?” she asked. 

“Naughty? You bunny-duck! Of course you are, ” Maida said, giving hera bear-hug. “I don’t see how anybody can scold her, ” she whisperedto Dicky. 

“Scold her! You can’t, ” Dicky said disgustedly. “She’s too cute. Andthen if you did scold her it wouldn’t do any good. She’s thenaughtiest baby in the neighborhood—although, ” he added with pride, “I think Delia’s going to be pretty nearly as naughty when she getsbig enough. But Betsy Hale—why, the whole street has to keep an eyeon her. Come, pick up your dollies, Betsy, ” he wheedled, “they’llget cold if you leave them out here. ”

The thought of danger to her darlings produced immediate activity onBetsy’s part. She gathered the dolls under her cape, hugging themclose. “Her must put her dollies to bed, ” she said wisely. 

“Calls herself _her_ half the time, ” Dicky explained. He gathered upthe dresses and shooing Betsy ahead of him, followed her into theyard. 

“She’s the greatest child I ever saw, ” he said, rejoining Maida alittle later. “The things she thinks of to do! Why, the other day, Miss Allison—the sister of the blind lady what sits in the windowand knits—the one what owns the parrot—well, Miss Allison paintedone of her old chairs red and put it out in the yard to dry. Thenshe washed a whole lot of lace and put that out to dry. Next thingshe knew she looked out and there was Betsy washing all the redpaint off the chair with the lace. You’d have thought that wouldhave been enough for one day, wouldn’t you? Well, that afternoon sheturned the hose on Mr. Flanagan—that’s the policeman on the beat. ”

“What did he say?” Maida asked in alarm. She had a vague imaginarypicture of Betsy being dragged to the station-house. 

“Roared! But then Mr. Flanagan thinks Betsy’s all right. Alwayscalls her ’sophy Sparkles. ’ Betsy runs away about twice a week. Mr. Flanagan’s always finding her and lugging her home. I guess everypoliceman in Charlestown knows her by this time. There, look at hernow! Did you ever see such a kid?”

Betsy had come out of the yard again. She was carrying a hugefeather duster over her head as if it were a parasol. 

“The darling!” Maida said joyously. “I hope she’ll do somethingnaughty every day. ”

“Queer how you love a naughty child, ” Dick said musingly. “They’rean awful lot of trouble but you can’t help liking them. Has TimDoyle fallen into the puddle yet?”

“Yes, just a little while ago. ”

“He’s always falling in mud puddles. I guess if Molly fishes him outonce after a rain, she does a half a dozen times. ”

“Do come and see me, Dicky, won’t you?” Maida asked when they got tothe shop door. “You know I shall be lonely when all the children arein 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 untilyou hear about Betsy Hale. ” She told the whole story. “Was I ever anaughty little girl?” she concluded. 

“Naughty? Glory be, and what’s ailing you? ’Twas the best choildthis side of Heaven that you was. Always so sick and yet niver across wurrud out of you. ”

A shadow fell over Maida’s face. “Oh, dear, dear, ” she grieved. “Iwish I had been a naughty child—people love naughty children so. Areyou 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 onesingle, naughty thing I did? I’m sure you can if you try hard. ”

Maida’s face was touched with a kind of sad wistfulness. Grannylooked down at her, considerably puzzled. Then a light seemed tobreak in her mind. It shone through her blue eyes and twinkled inher smile. 

“Sure and Oi moind wance when Oi was joost afther giving you somemedicine and you was that mad for having to take the stuff that yousat 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 Ireally, 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 tot’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—thoughI 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 itselfout in front of Maida’s window. The children had begun to gather forschool, although it was still very quiet. Suddenly around the cornercame a wild hullaballoo—the shouts of small boys, the yelp of a dog, the rattle and clang of tin dragged on the brick sidewalk. Inanother instant appeared a dog, a small, yellow cur, collarless andforlorn-looking, with a string of tin cans tied to his tail, a hordeof small boys yelling after him and pelting him with stones. 

Maida started up, but before she could get to the door, somethingflashed like a scarlet comet from across the street. It was thelittle girl whom Maida had seen twice before—the one who always worethe scarlet cape. 

Even in the excitement, Maida noticed how handsome she was. Sheseemed proud. She carried her slender, erect little body as if shewere a princess and her big eyes cast flashing glances about her. Jet-black were her eyes and hair, milk-white were her teeth but inthe olive of her cheeks flamed a red such as could be matched onlyin the deepest roses. Maida christened her Rose-Red at once. 

Rose-Red lifted the little dog into her arms with a single swoop ofher strong arm. She yanked the cans from its tail with a singleindignant 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 cansto his poor little tail!” and then—“if ever I catch one of you boystreating a poor, helpless animal like this again, I’ll shake thebreath 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’tyou, Arthur?” She turned pleadingly to Arthur. 

Arthur nodded. 

“Nobody’s going to hurt helpless creatures while I’m about! He was asweet little, precious little, pretty little puppy, so he was. ”

Rose-Red marched into the court with the puppy, opened a gate anddropped 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 askedDorothy 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 “Mymommer 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 likea boy. ”

“How can a girl be a boy?” Maida queried after a few moments ofthought. “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 herselfin the next few days when she watched Rose-Red again and again. Butif she were a tom-boy, she was also, Maida decided, the mostbeautiful and the most wonderful little girl in the world. And, indeed, Rosie was so full of energy that it seemed to spurt out inthe continual sparkle of her face and the continual movement of herbody. She never walked. She always crossed the street in a series offlying jumps. She never went through a gate if she could go over thefence, never climbed the fence if she could vault it. The scarletcape was always flashing up trees, over sheds, sometimes to the veryroofs of the houses. Her principal diversion seemed to be climbinglamp-posts. Maida watched this proceeding with envy. One athleticleap and Rose-Red was clasping the iron column half-way up—a fewmore and she was swinging from the bars under the lantern. But shewas 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 twolittle girls would swing for her, Rosie could actually waltz in therope. 

The strangest thing about Rosie was that she did not always go toschool like the other children. The incident of the dog happened onThursday. Friday morning, when the children filed into theschoolhouse, Rosie did not follow them. Instead, she hid herself ina doorway until after the bell rang. A little later she sneaked outof her hiding place, joined Arthur Duncan at the corner, anddisappeared into the distance. Just before twelve they both cameback. For a few moments, they kept well concealed on a side street, out of sight of Primrose Court. But, at intervals, Rosie or Arthurwould dart out to a spot where, without being seen, they could get aglimpse of the church clock. When the children came out of school attwelve, they joined the crowd and sauntered home. 

Monday morning Maida saw them repeat these maneuvers. She wascompletely mystified by them and yet she had an uncomfortablefeeling. They were so stealthy that she could not help guessing thatsomething underhand was going on. 

“Do you know Rosie Brine?” Maida asked Dicky Dore one evening whenthey 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 adare. You ought to see her playing stumps. There’s nothing a boy cando that she won’t do. And have you noticed how she can spin atop—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’sface but her expression was still puzzled. “Pretending to go toschool 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. OldStoopendale, the truant officer, is always after her. Little shecares for old Stoopy though. She gets fierce beatings for it athome, too. Funny thing about Rosie—she won’t tell a lie. And whenher mother asks her about it, she always tells the truth. Sometimesher mother will go to the schoolhouse door with her every morningand afternoon for a week. But the moment she stops, Rosie begins tohook jack again. ”

“Mercy me!” Maida said. In all her short life she had never heardanything like this. She was convinced that Rosie Brine was a verynaughty little girl. And yet, underneath this conviction, burned anardent admiration for her. 

“She must be very brave, ” she said soberly. 

“Brave! Well, I guess you’d think so! Arthur Duncan says she’sbraver than a lot of boys he knows. Arthur and she hook jacktogether 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. Oncethey walked all the way to Franklin Park. And in the summer theyoften walk down to Crescent Beach. They say when I get well, I cango with them. ”

Dicky spoke in the wistful tone with which he always related thedeeds of stronger children. Maida knew exactly how he felt—she hadbeen 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’vealways wanted to do. ”

“I’m going to do them all, sometime, ” Dicky prophesied. “Doc O’Briensays so. ”

“I think Rosie the beautifullest little girl, ” Maida said. “I wishshe’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 nowand 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 shecaught a glimpse of the scarlet cape in the distance, it was hard togo on working. She noticed that Rosie seemed very fond of allhelpless things. She was always wheeling out the babies in theneighborhood, always feeding the doves and carrying her kitten abouton her shoulder, always winning the hearts of other people’s dogsand then trying to induce them not to follow her. 

“It seems strange that she never comes into the shop, ” Maida saidmournfully to Dicky one day. 

“You see she never has any money to spend, ” Dicky explained. “That’sthe way her mother punishes her. But sometimes she earns it on thesly taking care of babies. She loves babies and babies always loveher. Delia’ll go to her from my mother any time and as for BetsyHale—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 thecounter with the usual proud swing of her body. 

Seen closer, she was even prettier than at a distance. Her smootholive skin glistened like satin. Her lips showed roses even morebrilliant than those that bloomed in her cheeks. A frown between hereyebrows gave her face almost a sullen look. But to offset this, herwhite teeth turned her smile into a flash of light. Maida lifted allthe 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 dashforward of her whole arm, she threw the top to the floor. It dancedthere, humming like a whole hiveful of bees. 

“Oh, how lovely!” Maida exclaimed. Then in fervent admiration: “Whata 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’sface softened with the same pity that had shone on the frightenedlittle dog. 

“She’s sorry for me, ” Maida thought. “How sweet she looks!”

But Rosie said nothing about Maida’s limp. She explained the processof top-spinning from end to end, step by step, making Maida copyeverything that she did. At first Maida was too eager—her handsactually trembled. But gradually she gained in confidence. At lastshe succeeded in making one top spin feebly. 

“Now you’ve got the hang of it, ” Rosie encouraged her, “You’ll soonlearn. All you want to do is to practice. I’ll come to-morrow andsee 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 sayabout _letting me_, if I make up my mind to come. Well, goodbye!”

She whirled out of the shop and soon the scarlet cape was abrilliant spot in the distance. 

But about seven that evening the bell rang. When Maida opened thedoor 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-roomwhere Billy Potter was talking with Granny. “This is Rosie Brine, Billy, ” she said, her voice full of pride in her new friend. “Andthis is Billy Potter, Rosie. ”

Billy shook hands gravely with the little girl. And Rosie looked athim in open wonder. Maida knew exactly what she was thinking. Rosiewas trying to make up her mind whether he was a boy or a man. Theproblem seemed to grow more perplexing as the evening went on. Forpart of the time Billy played with them, sitting on the floor like aboy, and part of the time he talked with Granny, sitting in a chairlike a man. 

Maida showed Rosie her books, her Venetian beads, all her cherishedpossessions. Rosie liked the canaries better than anything. “Justthink of having six!” she said. Then, sitting upstairs in Maida’sbedroom, the two little girls had a long confidential talk. 

“I’ve been just crazy to know you, Maida, ” Rosie confessed. “Butthere was no way of getting acquainted, for you always stayed in thestore. 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 kepthoping that you’d come in. I hope you’ll come often, Rosie, for Idon’t know any other little girl of my own age. ”

“You know Laura Lathrop, don’t you?” Rosie asked with a sidewayslook. 

“Yes, but I don’t like her. ”

“Nobody likes her, ” Rosie said. “She’s too much of a smarty-cat. Sheloves to get people over there and then show off before them. Andthen she puts on so many airs. I won’t have anything to do withher. ”

From the open window came the shrill scream of Miss Allison’sparrot. “What do you think of that?” it called over and over again. 

“Isn’t that a clever bird?” Rosie asked admiringly. “His name isTony. I have lots of fun with him. Did you ever see a parrot thatcould 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 thatsometimes we would have to put a cover over the cage to stop him. ”

“And did you have other animals besides parrots?” Rosie asked. “Ilove animals. ”

“Oh, yes, we had horses and dogs and cats and rabbits and dancingmice and marmosets and macaws and parokets and—I guess I’veforgotten some of them. But if you like animals, you ought to go toour place in the Adirondacks—there are deer preserves there andpheasants and peacocks. ”

“Who do they belong to?”

“My father. ”

Rosie considered this. “Does he keep a bird-place?” she asked in apuzzled tone. 

“No. ” Maida’s tone was a little puzzled too. She did not know what abird-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 eyesdancing 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 wentto your house. She sent me to bed for being naughty. And I got upand dressed and climbed out my window on to the shed without anybodyknowing it. She’ll never know the difference. ”

“Oh, Rosie, ” Maida said in a horrified tone, “Please never do itagain. ” 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 thewindow. 

But she grieved over the matter as she walked home. Perhaps it wasbecause she was thinking so deeply that she did not notice how quietthey 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, “howglad 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 hestudied her keenly, “you’re beginning to look like a real livegirl. ” 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 madelong days for Maida. All the children in the neighborhood werecurious to see the place. It had been dark and dingy as long as theycould remember. Now it was always bright and pretty—always sweetwith the perfume of flowers, always gay with the music of birds. Butmore, the children wanted to see the lame little girl who “tendedstore, ” who seemed to try so hard to please her customers and whowas so affectionate and respectful with the old, old lady whom shecalled “Granny. ”

At noon and night the bell sounded a continuous tinkle. 

For a week Maida kept rather close to the shop. She wanted to getacquainted with all her customers. Moreover, she wanted to find outwhich of the things she had bought sold quickly and which wereunpopular. 

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’ssale, dusting, replacing the things she had sold, rearranging themoften according to some pretty new scheme. 

About eight o’clock the bell would call her into the shop and itwould be brisk work until nine. Then would come a rest of threehours, broken only by an occasional customer. In this interval sheoften worked in the yard, raking up the leaves that fell from vineand bush, picking the bravely-blooming dahlias, gathering sprays ofwoodbine for the vases, scattering crumbs to the birds. 

At twelve the children would begin to flood the shop again and Maidawould be on her feet constantly until two. Between two and four cameanother long rest. After school trade started up again. Often itlasted until six, when she locked the door for the night. 

In her leisure moments she used to watch the people coming and goingin Primrose Court. With Rosie’s and Dicky’s help, she soon kneweverybody by name. She discovered by degrees that on the right sideof the court lived the Hales, the Clarks, the Doyles and the Dores;on the left side, the Duncans, the Brines and the Allisons. In thebig house at the back lived the Lathrops. 

Betsy was a great delight to Maida, for the neighborhood brimmedwith stories of her mischief. She had buried her best doll in theash-barrel, thrown her mother’s pocketbook down the cesspool, putall the clean laundry into a tub of water and painted the parlorfireplace with tomato catsup. In a single afternoon, having becomesecretly possessed of a pair of scissors, she cut all the fringe offthe parlor furniture, cut great scallops in the parlor curtains, cutgreat 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 fromthe shop. Hobbling to the window, she would see the child leadingBetsy by the hand. “Running away again, ” was all Maida would say. Occasionally Maida would call in a vexed tone, “Now _how_ did shecreep past the window without my seeing her?” And outside would berosy-cheeked, brass-buttoned Mr. Flanagan, carrying Betsy home. OnceBilly arrived at the shop, bearing Betsy in his arms. “She wasalmost to the bridge, ” he said, “when I caught sight of her from thecar window. The little tramp!”

Betsy never seemed to mind being caught. For an instant the littlerosebud that was her mouth would part over the tiny pearls that wereher teeth. This roguish smile seemed to say: “You wait until thenext time. You won’t catch me then. ”

Sometimes Betsy would come into the shop for an hour’s play. Maidaloved to have her there but it was like entertaining a whirlwind. Betsy had a strong curiosity to see what the drawers and boxescontained. 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 weekMaida was the chief adoration of the Clark twins. Dorothy and Mabelwere just as good as Betsy was naughty. When they came over to seeMaida, they played quietly with whatever she chose to give them. Itwas an hour, ordinarily, before they could be made to talk above awhisper. If they saw Maida coming into the court, they would run toher side, slipping a hot little hand into each of hers. Attendedalways by this roly-poly bodyguard, Maida would limp from group togroup of the playing children. Nobody in Primrose Court could tellthe Clark twins apart. Maida soon learned the difference althoughshe could never explain it to anybody else. “It’s something you haveto 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 youor your sister?” And he always answered their whispered remarks withwhispers so much softer than theirs that he finally succeeded inforcing 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. Maidabecame very fond of the Doyle children. Like Betsy, they were tooyoung to go to school and she saw a good deal of them in the lonelyschool hours. The puddle was an endless source of amusement to them. As long as it remained, they entertained themselves playing alongits shores. 

“There’s that choild in the water again, ” Granny would cry from theliving-room. 

Looking out, Maida would see Tim spread out on all fours. Like anobstinate little pig, he would lie still until Molly picked him up. She would take him home and in a few moments he would reappear infresh, clean clothes again. 

“Hello, Tim, ” Billy Potter would say whenever they met. “Fallen intoa pud-muddle lately?”

The word _pud-muddle_ always sent Tim off into peals of laughter. Itwas the only thing Maida had discovered that could make him laugh, for he was as serious as Molly was merry. Molly certainly was thejolliest little girl in the court—Maida had never seen her withanything but a smiling face. 

Dicky’s mother went to work so early and came back so late thatMaida had never seen her. But Dicky soon became an intimate. Maidahad begun the reading lessons and Dicky was so eager to get on thatthey were progressing famously. 

The Lathrops lived in the big house at the back of the court. Grannylearned from the Misses Allison that, formerly, the wholeneighborhood had belonged to the Lathrop family. But they had soldall their land, piece by piece, except the one big lot on which thehouse stood. Perhaps it was because they had once been so importantthat Mrs. Lathrop seemed to feel herself a little better than therest of the people in Primrose Court. At any rate, although shespoke with all, the Misses Allison were the only ones on whom shecondescended to call. Maida caught a glimpse of her occasionally onthe piazza—a tall, thin woman, white-haired and sharp-featured, whoalways wore a worsted shawl. 

The house was a big, bulky building, a mass of piazzas andbay-windows, with a hexagonal cupola on the top. It was painted whitewith green blinds and trimmed with a great deal of wooden lace. Thewide lawn was well-kept and plots of flowers, here and there, gaveit a gay air. 

Laura had a brother named Harold, who was short and fat. Haroldseemed to do nothing all day long but ride a wheel at a tearing paceover 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 seethat what Rosie said was perfectly true—Laura put on airs. Everyafternoon Laura played on the lawn. Her appearance was the signalfor all the small fry of the neighborhood to gather about the gate. First would come the Doyles, then Betsy, then, one by one, thestrange children who wandered into the court, until there would be arow of wistful little faces stuck between the bars of the fence. They would follow every move that Laura made as she played with thetoys spread in profusion upon the grass. 

Laura often pretended not to see them. She would lift her largefamily of dolls, one after another, from cradle to bed and from bedto tiny chair and sofa. She would parade up and down the walk, usingfirst one doll-carriage, then the other. She would even play a gameof croquet against herself. Occasionally she would call in acondescending tone, “You may come in for awhile if you wish, littlechildren. ” And when the delighted little throng had scampered to herside, she would show them all her toy treasures on condition thatthey did not touch them. 

When the proceedings reached this stage, Maida would be so angrythat she could look no longer. Very often, after Laura had sent thechildren away, Maida would call them into the shop. She would letthem play all the rest of the afternoon with anything her stockafforded. 

On the right side of the court lived Arthur Duncan, the MissesAllison and Rosie Brine. The more Maida saw of Arthur, the more shedisliked him. In fact, she hated to have him come into the shop. Itseemed 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 hisbig dark eyes. But Rosie and Dicky seemed very fond of him. BillyPotter had once told her that one good way of judging people was bythe friends they made. If that were true, she had to acknowledgethat there must be something fine about Arthur that she had notdiscovered. 

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’shouse every other day. What it was all about, Maida did not know. But she fancied that it had much to do with Dicky’s frequentpurchases 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 dayin the window, crocheting the beautiful, fleecy shawls by which shehelped support the household. 

Jemima, the older, short, fat and with snapping black eyes, did thehousework, attended to the parrot and waited by inches on herafflicted sister. Occasionally in the evening they would come tocall on Granny. Billy Potter was very nice to them both. He wasalways telling the sisters the long amusing stories of hisadventures. Miss Matilda’s gentle face used positively to beam atthese times, and Miss Jemima laughed so hard that, according to herown story, his talk put her “in stitches. ”

Maida did not see Rosie’s mother often. To tell the truth, she was alittle afraid of her. She was a tall, handsome, black-browed woman—agrown-up Rosie—with an appearance of great strength and of evengreater temper. “Ah, that choild’s the limb, ” Granny would say, whenMaida brought her some new tale of Rosie’s disobedience. And yet, inthe curious way in which Maida divined things that were not toldher, she knew that, next to Dicky, Rosie was Granny’s favorite ofall the children in the neighborhood. 

With all these little people to act upon its stage, it is notsurprising that Primrose Court seemed to Maida to be a littletheater of fun—a stage to which her window was the royal box. Something was going on there from morning to night. Here would be alittle group of little girls playing “house” with numerous familiesof dolls. There, it would be boys, gathered in an excited ring, playing marbles or top. Just before school, games like leap-frog, ortag or prisoners’ base would prevail. But, later, when there wasmore time, hoist-the-sail would fill the air with its strange cries, or hide-and-seek would make the place boil with excitement. Maidaused to watch these games wistfully, for Granny had decided thatthey 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 “MissJennie-I-Jones, ” “ring-a-ring-a-rounder, ” “water, water wildflower, ”“the farmer in the dell, ” “go in and out the windows. ” Maida used totry to pick out the airs of these games on the spinet—she never coulddecide which was the sweetest. 

Maida soon learned how to play jackstones and, at the end of thesecond week, she was almost as proficient as Rosie with the top. Thething she most wanted to learn, however, was jump-rope. Every littlegirl in Primrose Court could jump-rope—even the twins, who wereespecially nimble at “pepper. ” Maida tried it one night—all alone inthe shop. But suddenly her weak leg gave way under her and she fellto the floor. Granny, rushing in from the other room, scolded herviolently. She ended by forbidding her to jump again without specialpermission. But Maida made up her mind that she was going to learnsometime, even, as she said with a roguish smile, “if it took aleg. ” 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 hurther any and, after awhile, she’ll find she can jump two, then threeand so on. That’s the way I learned. ”

Granny agreed to this. Maida practiced constantly, one jump in hernightgown, just before going to bed, and another, all dressed, justafter she got up. 

“I jumped three jumps this morning without failing, Granny, ” shesaid one morning at breakfast. Within a few days the record climbedto five, then to seven, then, at a leap, to ten. 

Dr. Pierce called early one morning. His eyes opened wide when theyfell upon her. “Well, well, Pinkwink, ” he said. “What do you mean bybringing me way over here! I thought you were supposed to be a sickyoung person. Where’d you get that color?”

A flush like that of a pink sweet-pea blossom had begun to show inMaida’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 thatDr. Pierce told her to go more slowly or he would put a bit in hermouth. But he listened attentively. “Well, I see you’re not tired ofit, ” he commented. 

“Tired!” Maida’s indignation was so intense that Dr. Pierce shookuntil every curl bobbed. 

“And I get so hungry, ” she went on. “You see I have to wait untiltwo o’clock sometimes before I can get my lunch, because from twelveto two are my busy hours. Those days it seems as if the school bellwould 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 wordsanywhere 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. Everychild in Primrose Court knew him by the end of the first week andevery child loved him by the end of the second. And they all calledhim Billy. He would not let them call him Mr. Potter or even UncleBilly because, he said, he was a child when he was with them and hewanted to be treated like a child. He played all their games with askill that they thought no mere grown-up could possess. Like Rosie, he seemed to be bubbling over with life and spirits. He was alwaysrunning, leaping, jumping, climbing, turning cartwheels andsomersaults, vaulting fences and “chinning” himself unexpectedlywhenever 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 acceptedGranny and Maida as the mother-in-law and daughter of a “travelingman. ” From the beginning Granny had seemed one of them, but Maidawas a puzzle. The children could not understand how a little girlcould be grown-up and babyish at the same time. And if you stop tothink 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 orhop-scotch. Yet she talked familiarly of automobiles, yachts and horses. She knew nothing about geography and yet, her conversation was full ofsuch phrases as “The spring we were in Paris” or “The winter we spentin Rome. ” She knew nothing about nouns and verbs but she talked Italianfluently with the hand-organ man who came every week and many of her bookswere in French. She knew nothing about fractions or decimals, yet shereferred familiarly to “drawing checks, ” to gold eagles and to WallStreet. Her writing was so bad that the children made fun of it, yetshe could spin off a letter of eight pages in a flash. And she toldthe most wonderful fairy-tales that had ever been heard in PrimroseCourt. 

Because of all these things the children had a kind of contempt forher 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, alwayspicked up the things they dropped and never interrupted. And yet shecould 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 withstraight in the eye. 

She would play with the little children as willingly as with thebigger ones. Often when the older girls and boys were in school, shewould bring out a lapful of toys and spend the whole morning withthe little ones. When Granny called her, she would give all the toysaway, dividing them with a careful justice. And, yet, wheneverchildren bought things of her in the shop, she always expected themto pay the whole price. You can see how the neighborhood wouldfairly buzz with talk about her. 

As for Maida—with all this newness of friend-making and out-of-doorsgames, it is not to be wondered that her head was a jumble at theend of each day. In that delicious, dozy interval before she fellasleep at night, all kinds of pretty pictures seemed to paintthemselves on her eyelids. 

Now it was Rose-Red swaying like a great overgrown scarlet flowerfrom the bars of a lamp-post. Now it was Dicky hoisting himselfalong on his crutches, his face alight with his radiant smile. Nowit was a line of laughing, rosy-cheeked children, as long as thetail of a kite, pelting to goal at the magic cry “Liberty poles arebending!” Or it was a group of little girls, setting out rows androws of bright-colored paper-dolls among the shadows of one of thedeep old doorways. But always in a few moments came the sweetestkind of sleep. And always through her dreams flowed the plaintivemusic of “Go in and out the windows. ” Often she seemed to wake inthe morning to the Clarion cry, “Hoist the sail!”

It did not seem to Maida that the days were long enough to do allthe 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 thisafternoon and play with me if you’d like. ”

“Thank you, Laura, ” Maida answered. To anybody else, she would haveadded, “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 superiortone. “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 longerthan that, anyway. ”

“Very well, then. Shall we say at two?” Laura said this with a verygrown-up air. Maida knew that she was imitating her mother. 

Laura had scarcely left when Dicky appeared, swinging between hiscrutches. “Maida, ” he said, “I want you to come over to-morrowafternoon and see my place. You’ve not seen Delia yet and there’s awhole lot of things I want to show you. I’m going to clean houseto-day so’s I’ll be all ready for you to-morrow. ”

“Oh, thank you, ” Maida said. The sparkle that always meant delightcame into her face. “I shall be delighted. I’ve always wanted to goover and see you ever since I first knew you. But Granny said towait until you invited me. And I really have never seen Delia exceptwhen Rosie’s had her in the carriage. And then she’s always beenasleep. ”

“You have to see Delia in the house to know what a naughty baby sheis, ” Dicky said. He spoke as if that were the finest tribute that hecould pay his little sister. 

“Granny, ” Maida said that noon at lunch, “Laura Lathrop came hereand invited me to come to see her this afternoon and I just hate thethought of going—I don’t know why. Then Dicky came and invited me tocome and see him to-morrow afternoon and I just love the thought ofgoing. Isn’t it strange?”

“Very, ” Granny said, smiling. “But you be sure to be a noice choildthis 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. Thetone of her voice showed that she was thinking hard. “Laura makes memad—oh, just hopping mad, ”—“hopping mad” was one of Rosie’sexpressions—“and yet it seems to me I’d die before I’d let her knowit. ”

Laura was waiting for her on the piazza when Maida presented herselfat 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 allfurnished in blue—blue paper, blue bureau scarf covered with lace, blue bed-spread covered with lace, a big, round, blue roller wherethe 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 onthe bureau. “Papa’s given them to me, one piece at a time. It’s allof silver and every thing has my initials on it. What is your setof?”

Laura paused before she asked this last question and darted one ofher sideways looks at Maida. “She thinks I haven’t any toilet-setand she wants to make me say so, ” Maida thought. “Ivory, ” she saidaloud. 

“Ivory! I shouldn’t think that would be very pretty. ”

Laura opened her bureau drawers, one at a time, and showed Maida thepretty clothes packed in neat piles there. She opened the largecloset and displayed elaborately-made frocks, suspended on hangers. And all the time, with little sharp, sideways glances, she wasstudying the effect on Maida. But Maida’s face betrayed none of thewonder and envy that Laura evidently expected. Maida was very politebut it was evident that she was not much interested. 

Next they went upstairs to a big playroom which covered the wholetop of the house. Shelves covered with books and toys lined thewalls. A fire, burning in the big fireplace, made it very cheerful. 

“Oh, what a darling doll-house, ” Maida exclaimed, pausing before theminiature 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’sthe 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 toobig to be a doll’s house. It was really a small cottage. There werefour rooms—two upstairs and two downstairs and a staircase that youcould 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, thesmaller things are the better I like them. I guess it’s because I’veseen so many big things. ”

Laura looked impressed and puzzled at the same time. “And you reallycould walk up the stairs? Let’s go up in the cupola, ” she suggested, after an uncertain interval in which she seemed to think of nothingelse to show. 

The stairs at the end of the playroom led into the cupola. Maidaexclaimed with delight over the view which she saw from the windows. On one side was the river with the draw-bridge, the Navy Yard andthe monument on Bunker Hill. On the other stretched the smokyexpanse of Boston with the golden dome of the state house gleamingin the midst of a huge, red-brick huddle. 

“Did you have a cupola at Pride’s Crossing?” Laura askedtriumphantly. 

“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 tothe lower floor. They went into the dining-room, which was allshining oak and glittering cut-glass; into the parlor, which wasfilled with gold furniture, puffily upholstered in blue brocade;into the libraries, which Maida liked best of all, because therewere 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 leftRome. ”

“How long did you stay in Rome, little girl?” a voice asked back ofher. Maida turned. Mrs. Lathrop had come into the room. 

Maida arose immediately from her chair. “We stayed in Rome twomonths, ” 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 beencollecting 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 sickpeople. It’s so covered with bracelets and rings and lockets andpins and chains that grateful people have given it that it looks asif it were dressed in jewels. The bambino’s such a darling littlething with such a sweet look in its face. That’s St. Agnes outsidethe wall—I saw two dear little baby lambs blessed on the altar thereon St. Agnes’s day. One was all covered with red garlands and theother with green. Oh, they were such sweethearts! They were going touse the fleece to make some garment for the pope. That’s Santa Mariadella Salute—they call it Santa Maria della _Volute_ instead of_Salute_ because it’s all covered with volutes. ” Maida smiledsunnily into Mrs. Lathrop’s face as if expecting sympathy with thisarchitectural joke. 

But Mrs. Lathrop did not smile. She looked a little staggered. Shestudied 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 certainquestions, it would place her in a very uncomfortable position. Onthe one hand, Maida could not tell a lie. On the other, her fatherhad 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 wanderedover the little blue frock—simple but of the best materials—over thewhite “tire” of a delicate plaided nainsook, trimmed withValenciennes 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. Lathropstraight 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 intothe 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 wasa servant in ‘Buffalo’ Westabrook’s family, for they traveled abroada year with the Westabrook family. Evidently, they give her all thelittle Westabrook girl’s clothes—she’s dressed quite out of keepingwith her station in life. Curious how refinement rubs off—the childhas really a good deal of manner. I don’t know that I quite like tohave 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. Watchthat door, for I shall make my entrance there. ”

Maida waited what seemed a long time to her. Then suddenly Lauracame whirling into the room. She had put on a little frock ofpale-blue liberty silk that lay, skirt, bodice and tiny sleeves, inmany little pleats—“accordion-pleated, ” Laura afterwards described it. Laura’s neck and arms were bare. She wore blue silk stockings andlittle blue-kid slippers, heelless and tied across the ankles withribbons. Her hair hung in a crimpy torrent to below her waist. 

“Oh, Laura, how lovely you do look!” Maida said, “I think you’reperfectly beautiful!”

Laura smiled. Lifting both arms above her head, she floated aboutthe room, dancing on the very tips of her toes. Turning and smilingover her shoulder, she bent and swayed and attitudinized. Maidacould have watched her forever. 

In a few moments she disappeared again. This time she came back in ared-silk frock with a little bolero jacket of black velvet, hungwith many tinkling coins. Whenever her fingers moved, a littlepretty clapping sound came from them—Maida discovered that shecarried tiny wooden clappers. Whenever her heels came together, apretty musical clink came from them—Maida discovered that on hershoes were tiny metal plates. 

Once again Laura went out. This time, she returned dressed like alittle sailor boy. She danced a gay little hornpipe. 

“I never saw anything so marvelous in my life, ” Maida said, her eyesshining with enjoyment. “Oh, Laura how I wish I could dance likethat. 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 neverdo anything at all. ”

This was the first allusion that had been made in Primrose Court toMaida’s lameness. Her face shadowed a little. “No, I’m afraid Icouldn’t, ” she said regretfully. “But—oh—think what a lovely dancerRosie would make. ”

“I’m afraid Rosie’s too rough, ” Laura said. She unfolded a littlefan and began fanning herself languidly. “It’s a great bothersometimes, ” she went on in a bored tone of voice. “Everybody isalways asking me to dance at their parties. I danced at a beautifulMay party last year. Did you ever see a May-pole?”

“Oh, yes, ” Maida said. “My birthday comes on May Day and last yearfather gave me a party. He had a May-pole set up on the lawn and allthe children danced about it. ”

“My birthday comes in the summer, too. I always have a party on ourplace in Marblehead, ” Laura said. “I had fifty children at my partylast year. How many did you have?”

“We sent out over five hundred invitations, I believe. But not quitefour hundred accepted. ”

“Four hundred, ” Laura repeated. “Goodness, what could so manychildren 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 amerry-go-round and Punch and Judy on the lawn and a play in mylittle theater—I can’t remember everything. ”

Laura’s eyes had grown very big. “Didn’t you have a perfectlysplendiferous time?” she asked. 

“No, not particularly, ” Maida said. “Not half such a good time asI’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 Dickyand Rosie and the court children. ”

“Goodness!” was all Laura could say for a moment. But finally sheadded, “I don’t believe that, Maida!”

Maida stared at her and started to speak. “Oh, there’s the clockstriking four?” was all she said though. “I must go. Thank you fordancing for me. ”

She flew into her coat and hat. She could not seem to get away quickenough. Nobody had ever doubted her word before. She could notexactly explain it to herself but she felt if she talked with Lauraanother moment, she would fly out of her skin. 

 ----------------------

“Mother, ” Laura said, after Maida had gone, “Maida Flynn told methat her father gave her a birthday party last year and invited fivehundred children to it and they had a theater and a Punch and Judyshow and all sorts of things. Do you think it’s true?”

Mrs. Lathrop set her lips firmly. “No, I think it is probably nottrue. I think you’d better not play with the little Flynn girl anymore. ”

 ----------------------

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 struggleto support her little family. In the size and comfort of itsfurnishings, 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 ingenuine wonder. 

And indeed, hard work showed everywhere. The oilcloth shone likeglass. The stove was as clean as a newly-polished shoe. The rows ofpans on the wall fairly twinkled. Delicious smells were filling theair. Maida guessed that Dicky was making one of the Irish stews thatwere 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 inthat closet, way across the room. I used to get awful tired fillingthe coal-hod and lugging it over to the stove. But now you see Ifill that truck at the closet, wheel it over to the stove and Idon’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 asoap-shaker but couldn’t afford to get one. Arthur took that can andpunched the bottom full of holes. I keep it filled up with all theodds and ends of soap. When I wash the dishes, I just let theboiling water from the kettle flow through it. It makes water grandand 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 tothe floor. “She can’t walk yet but you watch her go, ” he saidproudly. 

Go! The baby crept across the room so fast that Maida had to run tokeep up with her. “Oh, the love!” she said, taking Delia into herarms. “Think of having a whole baby to yourself. ”

“Can’t leave a thing round where she is, ” Dicky said proudly, as ifthis 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 littlepartridge. Maida wondered how Dicky could lift her. Also Delia wasas healthy-looking as Dicky was sickly. Her cheeks showed a pinkthat was almost purple and her head looked like a mop, so thicklywas 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 heranything but ‘baby’ yet. My, but she’s a case! If I didn’t watch herall the time, every pan in this room would be on the floor in ajiffy. 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 littlebundle that Maida had placed on a chair, and was busy trying to tearit 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 attentionto it. Finally her busy fingers pulled off so much paper that a pairof tiny rubber dolls dropped into her lap. 

“Say ‘Thank you, Maida, ’” Dicky prompted. 

Delia said something and Dicky assured her that the baby had obeyedhim. It sounded like, “Sank-oo-Maysa. ”

While Delia occupied herself with the dolls, Maida listened toDicky’s reading lesson. He was getting on beautifully now. At leasthe could puzzle out by himself some of the stories that Maida lenthim. 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 myfather 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 inthe fairy-tale?”

“They’re as beautiful as—as—” Maida groped about in her mind to findsomething 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 fanand the sun shines on all the green and blue eyes and on all thelittle 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, theycarry them so daintily, straight out, not a single feather trailingon the ground. There are two white peacocks on the Adirondacksplace. ”

“_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 afairy-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 ofher 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 saysRosie’s mother has never learned how to manage her. She whips Rosiean 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 betshe’ll do it. She always does what she says she’ll do. ”

“Isn’t it dreadful?” Maida said in a frightened tone. “Run away! Inever heard of such a thing. Think of having a mother and then notgetting along with her. Suppose she died sometime, as my motherdid. ”

“I don’t know what I’d do without my mother, ” Dicky saidthoughtfully. “But then I’ve got the best mother that ever was. Iwish she didn’t have to work so hard. But you wait until I get on myfeet. 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 theliving-room. Maida came in so quietly that they took no notice ofher. Granny was talking. Maida could see that the tears werecoursing down the wrinkles in her cheeks. 

“And after that, the poor choild ran away to America and I niverhave seen her since. Her father died repenting av his anger aginsther. But ut was too late. At last, in me old age, Oi came over toAmerica, 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’vehunted. 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. “Didyou ever speak to Mr. Westabrook about it?”

“Oh, Misther Westabruk done iv’ry t’ing he cud—the foine man that heis. Adver_tise_ments and _de_tayktives, but wid all his money, hecudn’t foind out a t’ing. If ut wasn’t for my blissed lamb, I’d prayto the saints to let me die. ”

Maida knew what they were talking about—Granny had often told herthe 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 adetective myself, and you’ll see I’ll make good on this job if ittakes twenty years. ”

“Oh, Billy, do—please do, ” Maida burst in. “It will make Granny sohappy. ”

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 togo wrong from the first tinkle of the bell, Monday morning, to thelast 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’vegot something to tell you. Laura Lathrop came over to Dicky’s housethe other day while the W. M. N. T. ’s were meeting and she told us thegreatest mess of stuff about you. I told her I was coming right overand tell you about it and she said, ‘All right, you can. ’ Laura saidthat you said that last summer you had a birthday party that youinvited five hundred children to. She said that you said that youhad a May-pole at this party and a fish pond and a Punch and Judyshow and all sorts of things. She said that you said that you had abig doll-house and a little theater all your own. I said that Ididn’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. Isit all true?”

“It’s all true, ” Maida said. 

Rosie looked at her hard. “You know, Maida, ” she went on afterawhile, “you told me about a lot of birds and animals that yourfather had. I thought he kept a bird-place. But Dicky says you toldhim that your father had twelve peacocks, not in a store, but in aplace 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 probablydreamed 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. “MissAllison told mother that Granny told her that you’d been sick for along time. And I thought, maybe you were out of your head andimagined those things. Oh, Maida, ” Rosie’s voice actually coaxed herto favor this theory, “don’t you think you imagined them?”

Maida laughed. “No, Rosie, ” she said in her quietest voice, “I didnot 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 matterwhat it was. Dicky says he believes you’re a princess indisguise—like in fairy-tales. ”

“Dear, dear Dicky!” Maida said. “He was the first friend I made inPrimrose Court and I guess he’s the best one. ”

“Well, I guess I’m your friend, ” Rosie said, firing up; “I told thatlittle 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 littlegirl who’s just like the rest of us should have story-book thingshappening to her all the time. If it’s true—then fairy-tales aretrue. ” She paused and looked Maida straight in the eye. “I can’tbelieve it, Maida. But I know you believe it. And that’s all thereis 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 theshop flew open. For an instant three or four voices filled the placewith their yells. Then the door shut. Nothing was heard but thesound of running feet. 

Granny and Maida rushed to the door. Nobody was in sight. 

“Who was it? What does it mean, Granny?” Maida asked inbewilderment. “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 timeshe did not stir from her chair. 

Tuesday night the same thing happened. Who the boys were Maida couldnot find out. Why they bothered her, she could not guess. 

“Take no notuce av ut, my lamb, ” Granny counselled. “When they foindyou pay no attintion to ut, they’ll be afther stopping. ”

Maida followed Granny’s advice. But the annoyance did not cease andshe began to dread the twilight. She made up her mind that she mustput an end to it soon. She knew she could stop it at once byappealing to Billy Potter. And, yet, somehow, she did not want toask for outside help. She had a feeling of pride about handling herown troubles. 

One afternoon Laura came into the shop. It was the first time thatMaida had seen her since the afternoon of her call and Maida did notspeak. She felt that she could not have anything to do with Lauraafter what had happened. But she looked straight at Laura andwaited. 

Laura did not speak either. She looked at Maida as if she had neverseen her before. She carried her head at its highest and she movedacross the room with her most important air. As she stood a momentgazing at the things in the show case, she had never seemed morepatronizing. 

“A cent’s worth of dulse, please, ” she said airily. 

“Dulse?” Maida repeated questioningly; “I guess I haven’t any. Whatis dulse?”

“Haven’t any dulse?” Laura repeated with an appearance of beinggreatly 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, “nomollolligobs, no apple-on-the-stick, no tamarinds, no pop-cornballs, no dulse. Why don’t you sell the things we want? Half thechildren in the neighborhood are going down to Main Street to getthem 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 theliving-room and buried her face in Granny’s lap, bursting intotears. 

“Oh, Granny, ” she sobbed, “Laura Lathrop says that half the childrendon’t like my shop and they’re going down to Main Street to buythings. What shall I do? What shall I do?”

“There, there, acushla, ” Granny said soothingly, taking thetrembling little girl on to her lap. “Don’t worry about anny t’ingthat wan says. ’Tis a foine little shop you have, as all the grownfolks says. ”

“But, Granny, ” Maida protested passionately, “I don’t want to pleasethe grown people, I want to please the children. And papa said Imust make the store pay. And now I’m afraid I never will. Oh, whatshall I do?”

She got no further. A tinkle of the bell, followed by patteringfootsteps, interrupted. In an instant, Rosie, brilliant in herscarlet cape and scarlet hat, with cheeks and lips the color ofcherries, stood at her side. 

“I saw that hateful Laura come out of here, ” she said. “I just knewshe’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 scowleduntil her face looked like a thunder-cloud. 

“I shall never speak to her again, ” Maida declared fervently. “Butwhat shall I do about it, Rosie?—it may be true what she said. ”

“Now don’t you get discouraged, Maida, ” Rosie said. “Because I cantell you just how to get or make those things Laura spoke of. ”

“Oh, can you, Rosie. What would I do without you? I’ll puteverything down in a book so that I shan’t forget them. ”

She limped over to the desk. There the black head bent over thegolden 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 knowanything about. And yet I suppose if I asked you if you’d seen aflying-machine, you’d say you had. ”

“I have, ” Maida answered instantly, “in Paris. ”

Rosie’s face wrinkled into its most perplexed look. She changed thesubject at once. “Well, dulse is a purple stuff—when you see a lotof 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 tipsof 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 comesround with the wagon. Mrs. Murdock used to make her ownapples-on-the-stick, mollolligobs and corn-balls. I’ve helped her many atime. Now I’ll write you a list of stuff to order from the grocer. I’llcome 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 andmollolligobs to-day_. ’ You put that in the window to-morrow morningand by to-morrow night, you’ll be all sold out. ”

“Oh, Rosie, ” Maida said happily, “I shall be so much obliged toyou!”

Rosie was as good as her word. She appeared that afternoon wearing along-sleeved apron under the scarlet cape. It seemed to Maida thatshe worked like lightning, for she made batch after batch of candy, moving as capably about the stove as an experienced cook. In themeantime, Maida was popping corn at the fireplace. They mountedfifty apples on skewers and dipped them, one at a time, into theboiling candy. They made thirty corn-balls and twenty-fivemollolligobs, which turned out to be round chunks of candy, stuck onthe end of sticks. 

“I never did see such clever children anywhere as there are inPrimrose Court, ” Maida said that night with a sigh to Granny. “Rosietold me that she could make six kinds of candy. And Dicky can cookas well as his mother. They make me feel so useless. Why, Granny, Ican’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, ” Maidasaid. “Why, Granny, lots and lots of children came here who’d neverbeen 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 ArthurDuncan. It had been going on for a week before Maida mentioned it toanybody. But it haunted her very dreams. 

Early Monday morning, Arthur came into the shop. In his usual gruffvoice and with his usual surly manner, he said, “Show me some ofthose rubbers in the window. ”

Maida took out a handful of the rubbers—five, she thought—and putthem on the counter. While Arthur looked them over, she turned toreplace a paper-doll which she had knocked down. 

“Guess I won’t take one to-day, ” Arthur said, while her back wasstill turned, and walked out. 

When Maida put the rubbers back, she discovered that there were onlyfour. She made up her mind that she had not counted right andthought no more of the incident. 

Two days later, Arthur Duncan came in again. Maida had just beenselling some pencils—pretty striped ones with a blue stone in theend. Three of them were left lying out on the counter. Arthur askedher to show him some penholders. Maida took three from the shelvesback of her. He bought one of these. After he had gone, shediscovered that there were only two pencils left on the counter. 

“One of them must have rolled off, ” Maida thought. But although shelooked everywhere, she could not find it. The incident of the rubberoccurred to her. She felt a little troubled but she resolved to putboth circumstances out of her mind. 

A day or two later, Arthur Duncan came in for the third time. Ithappened that Granny was out marketing. 

Piled on the counter was a stack of blank-books—pretty books theywere, with a child’s head in color on the cover. Arthur asked forletter-paper. Maida turned back to the shelf. With her hand on thesliding door, she stopped, half-stunned. 

_Reflected in the glass she saw Arthur Duncan stow one of the blankbooks away in his pocket. _

Maida felt sick all over. She did not know what to do. She did notknow what to say. 

She fumbled with trembling hands among the things on the shelf. Shedreaded 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-paperthat Maida, with downcast eyes, put before him, decided that he didnot want any after all, and walked coolly from the shop. 

Granny, coming in a few moments later, was surprised to find Maidaleaning 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 andduring 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’tsay what his name is—was stealing from you, what would you do?”

Billy considered the question as gravely as she had asked it. “Tellthe policeman on the beat and get him to throw a scare into him, ” hesaid at last. 

“I guess that’s what I’ll have to do. ” But Maida’s tone wasmournful. 

But Granny interrupted. 

“Don’t you do ut, my lamb—don’t you do ut!” She turned to themboth—they had never seen her blue eyes so fiery before. “Suppose youwas one av these poor little chilthren that lives round here that’salways had harrd wurruds for their meals and hunger for theirpillow, wudn’t you be afther staling yersilf if ut came aisy-loikeand 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. Butin the meantime, Maida went one afternoon to play with Dicky. Dickywas 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, ablank-book with the picture of a little girl on the cover, a rubber ofa kind very familiar to her. Maida knew certainly that Dicky hadbought none of these things from her. She knew as certainly thatthey were the things Arthur Duncan had stolen. What was theexplanation of the mystery? She went to bed that night miserablyunhappy. 

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 thatshe was trembling. She began to wish that she had followed Billy’sadvice. Sitting in the shop all alone—Granny, it happened again, wasout—it occurred to her that it was, perhaps, too serious a situationfor a little girl to deal with. 

She had made up her mind that when Arthur was in the shop, she wouldnot turn her back to him. She was determined not to give him thechance to fall into temptation. But he asked for pencil-sharpenersand pencil-sharpeners were kept in the lower drawer. There wasnothing for her to do but to get down on the floor. She rememberedwith a sense of relief that she had left no stock out on thecounter. She knelt upright on the floor, seeking for the box. Suddenly, reflected in the glass door, she saw another terrifyingpicture. 

_Arthur Duncan’s arm was just closing the money drawer. _

For an instant Maida felt so sick at heart that she wanted to runback into the living-room, throw herself into Granny’s big chair andcry her eyes out. Then suddenly all this weakness went. A feeling, such as she had never known, came into its place. She was stillangry but she was singularly cool. She felt no more afraid of ArthurDuncan 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 youare 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 toout-stare her. 

But Maida kept her eyes steadily on his. “You know what I’m talkingabout well enough, ” she said quietly. “In the last week you’vestolen a rubber and a pencil and a blank-book from me and just nowyou tried to take some money from the money-drawer. ”

Arthur sneered. “How are you going to prove it?” he askedimpudently. 

Maida was thoroughly angry. But something inside warned her that shemust not give way to temper. For all her life, she had beenaccustomed to think before she spoke. Indeed, she herself had neverbeen driven or scolded. Her father had always reasoned with her. Doctors and nurses had always reasoned with her. Even Granny hadalways reasoned with her. So, now, she thought very carefully beforeshe spoke again. But she kept her eyes fixed on Arthur. His eyes didnot move from hers but, in some curious way, she knew that he wasuneasy. 

“I can’t prove it, ” she said at last, “and I hadn’t any idea oftrying to. I’m only warning you that you must not come in here ifyou’re not to be trusted. And I told you the truth when I said Iwould 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 toget them that way. I don’t believe anybody _wants_ to steal. Nowwhen you want anything so bad as that, come to me and I’ll see if Ican get it for you. ”

Arthur stared at her as if he had not a word on his tongue. “If youthink you can frighten me, —” he said. Then, without ending hissentence, he swaggered out of the shop. But to Maida his swaggerseemed like something put on to conceal another feeling. 

Maida suddenly felt very tired. She wished that Granny Flynn wouldcome back. She wanted Granny to take her into her lap, to cuddleher, to tell her some merry little tale of the Irish fairies. But, instead, the bell rang and another customer came in. While she waswaiting on her, Maida noticed somebody come stealthily up to thewindow, look in and then duck down. She wondered if it might beBilly 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 heroutstretched 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 yourpencil, five for the blank book and there’s two dimes I took out ofthe money-drawer. ”

Maida did not know what to say. The tears came to her eyes androlled down her cheeks. Arthur shifted his weight from one foot tothe 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 whilethe tears ran down her cheeks—“I feel glad. ”

What he would have answered to this she never knew. For at thatmoment the door flew open. The little rowdy boys who had beentroubling her so much lately, let out a series of blood-curdlingyells. 

“What’s that?” Arthur asked. 

“I don’t know who they are, ” Maida said wearily, “but they do thatthree 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 thewall. After a long silence, they could hear footsteps tip-toeing onthe bricks outside. The door flew open. Arthur Duncan leaped like acat through the opening. There came back to Maida the sound ofrunning, then a pause, then another sound very much as if two orthree 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 youcan’t stand up. And remember I’ll be watching for you every nightnow. ”

Maida did not see him again then. But just before dinner the bellrang. When Maida opened the door there stood Arthur. 

“I had this kitten and I thought you might like him, ” he saidawkwardly, 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. Whata ball of fluff he is! I’ll call him Fluff. And he isn’t an Angoraor a prize kitty of any kind—just a beautiful plain everyday cat—thekind I’ve always wanted!”

Even this was not all. After dinner the shop bell rang again. Thistime it was Arthur and Rosie. Rosie’s lips were very tight as if shehad made up her mind to some bold deed but her flashing eyes showedher excitement. 

“Can we see you alone for a moment, Maida?” she asked in her mostbusiness-like tones. 

Wondering, Maida shut the door to the living-room and came back tothem. 

“Maida, ” Rosie began, “Arthur told me all about the rubber and thepencil and the blank book and the dimes. Of course, I felt prettybad when I heard about it. But I wanted Arthur to come right overhere and explain the whole thing to you. You see Arthur took thosethings to give away to Dicky because Dicky has such a hard timegetting 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 toldme and I thought you ought to know it at once. You see Arthur’sfather belongs to a club that meets once a month and Arthur goesthere a lot with him. And those men think that plenty of people havethings that they have no right to—oh, like automobiles—I mean, things that they haven’t earned. And the men in Mr. Duncan’s clubsay that it’s perfectly right to take things away from people whohave too much and give them to people who have too little. But I saythat may be all right for grown people but when children do it, it’sjust plain _stealing_. And that’s all there is to it! But I wantedyou to know that Arthur thought it was right—well sort of right, youunderstand—when he took those things. You don’t think so now, doyou, after the talking-to I’ve given you?” She turned severely onArthur. 

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, pleasenot to tell Dicky. He would be so surprised—and then he wouldn’tkeep the things that Arthur gave him. And of course now that Arthurhas 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 forthree weeks but this was her first experience with stormy weather. Because she, herself, had never been allowed to set her footoutdoors when the weather was damp, she expected that she would seeno children that day. But long before the bell rang they crowded inwet streaming groups into the shop. And at nine the linesdisappearing into the big school doorways seemed as long as ever. 

Even the Clark twins in rubber boots, long rain-capes and a babyumbrella 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 notknow what “one session” meant. But she puzzled over it the wholemorning. If Rosie and Arthur had come in she would have asked them. But neither of them appeared. Indeed, they were not anywhere in thelines—Maida looked very carefully. 

At twelve o’clock the school bell did not ring. In surprise, Maidacraned out of the window to consult the big church clock. It agreedexactly with the tall grandfather’s clock in the living-room. Bothpointed to twelve, then to five minutes after and ten andfifteen—still no bell. 

A little later Dicky came swinging along, the sides of his old rustyraincoat flapping like the wings of some great bird. 

“It’s one-session, Maida, ” he said jubilantly, “did you hear thebell?”

“What’s one session, Dicky?” Maida asked. 

“Why, when it’s too stormy for the children to go to school in theafternoon the fire-bells ring twenty-two at quarter to twelve. Theykeep 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 blacktoad-stools. But it was the only sign of life that the neighborhoodshowed for the rest of the day. The storm was too violent for eventhe big boys and girls to brave. A very long afternoon went by. Nota customer came into the shop. Maida felt very lonely. She wanderedfrom shop to living-room and from living-room to chamber. She triedto read. She sewed a little. She even popped corn for a lonesomefifteen minutes. But it seemed as if the long dark day would nevergo. 

As they were sitting down to dinner that night, Billy bounced in—hisface pink and wet, his eyes sparkling like diamonds from hisconflict with the winds. 

“Oh, Billy, how glad I am to see you, ” Maida said. “It’s been thelonesomest day. ”

“Sure, the sight av ye’s grand for sore eyes, ” said Granny. 

Maida had noticed that Billy’s appearance always made the greatestdifference in everything. Before he came, the noise of the windhowling about the store made Maida sad. Now it seemed the jolliestof sounds. And when at seven, Rosie appeared, Maida’s cup ofhappiness brimmed over. 

While Billy talked with Granny, the two little girls rearranged thestock. 

“My mother was awful mad with me just before supper, ” Rosie began atonce. “It seems as if she was so cross lately that there’s no livingwith her. She picks on me all the time. That’s why I’m here. Shesent me to bed. But I made up my mind I wouldn’t go to bed. Iclimbed out my bedroom window and came over here. ”

“Oh, Rosie, I wish you wouldn’t do that, ” Maida said. “Oh, do runright home! Think how worried your mother would be if she went upinto your room and found you gone. She wouldn’t know what had becomeof you. ”

“Well, then, what makes her so strict with me?” Rosie cried. Hereyes had grown as black as thunder clouds. The scowl that made herface so sullen had come deep between her eyebrows. 

“Oh, how I wish I had a mother, ” Maida said longingly. “I guess Iwouldn’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, ” Rosiesaid. 

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’vegot 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. Thenhe 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 shoutedtogether:

“Hopscotch! Hopscotch!”

“Right you are!” Billy approved. He searched among the coals in thehod until he found a hard piece of slate. 

“All ready now!” he said briskly. “Your turn, first, Rosie, becauseyou’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 saidsuddenly. 

“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 andshrieking, “Granny’s going to play!” “Granny’s going to play!” Theymade so much noise finally, that Billy had to threaten to stand themon their heads in a corner. 

Granny took her turn after Billy. She hopped about like a veryactive 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? NotMaida with all her new-found strength, not Rosie with all hernervous energy, not Billy with all his athletic training. 

“Mrs. Delia Flynn, champion of America and Ireland, ” Billy greetedthe victor. “Granny, we’ll have to enter you in the next Olympicgames. ”

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 wonderfulstories, Rosie—stories he’s heard and stories he’s read. But themost wonderful ones are those that he makes up as he goes along. ”

The two little girls settled themselves on the hearth-rug at Billy’sfeet. Granny sat, not far off, working with double speed at herneglected knitting. 

“Once upon a time, ” Billy said, “there lived a little girl namedKlara. And Klara was the naughtiest little girl in the world. Shewas a pretty child and a clever child and everybody would have lovedher if she had only given them a chance. But how can you love achild who is doing naughty things all the time? Particularly was shea great trial to her mother. That poor lady was not well and neededcare and attention, herself. But instead of giving her these, Klaragave her only hard words and disobedient acts. The mother usedsometimes to punish her little daughter but it seemed as if thisonly made her worse. Both father and mother were in despair abouther. Klara seemed to be growing steadily worse and worse. And, indeed, lately, she had added to her naughtiness by threatening torun away. 

“One night, it happened, Klara had been so bad that her mother hadput her to bed early. The moment her mother left the room, Klarawhipped over to the window. ‘I’m going to dress myself and climb outthe 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 moonbegan to rise and come up out of the water. Now the moonrise isalways 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 bigbefore. And certainly she had never seen it such a color—a soft deeporange. In fact, it might have been an immense orange—or better, amonster pumpkin stuck on the horizon-line. 

“The strange thing about the moon, though, was that it grew largerinstead of smaller. It rose higher and higher, growing bigger andbigger, until it was half-way up the curve of the sky. Then itstopped 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 greatdoor in the moon opened suddenly and there on the threshold stood alittle old lady. A strange little old lady she was—a little old ladywith short red skirts and high, gayly-flowered draperies at herwaist, a little old lady with a tall black, sugar-loaf hat, a greatwhite ruff around her neck and little red shoes with bright silverbuckles on them—a little old lady who carried a black cat perched onone shoulder and a broomstick in one hand. 

“The little old lady stooped down and lifted something over thethreshold. Klara strained her eyes to see what it was. It lookedlike a great roll of golden carpeting. With a sudden deft movementthe little old lady threw it out of the door. It flew straightacross the ocean, unrolling as swiftly as a ball of twine thatyou’ve flung across the room. It came nearer and nearer. The fartherit got from the moon, the faster it unrolled. After a while itstruck against the shore right under Klara’s window and Klara sawthat it was the wake of the moon. She watched. 

“The little old lady had disappeared from the doorway in the moonbut the door did not close. And, suddenly, still another wonderfulthing happened. The golden wake lifted itself gradually from thewater until it was on a level with Klara’s window. Bending down shetouched it with both her soft little hands. It was as firm and hardas if it had been woven from strands of gold. 

“‘Now’s my time to run away from my cross mother, ’ Klara said toherself. ‘I guess that nice old lady in the moon wants me to comeand be her little girl. Well, I’ll go. I guess they’ll be sorry inthis house to-morrow when they wake up and find they’re never goingto see me again. ’

“Opening the window gently that nobody might hear her, she steppedon to the Wake of Gold. It felt cool and hard to her little barefeet. It inclined gently from her window. She ran down the slopeuntil she reached the edge of the sea. There she hesitated. For amoment it seemed a daring thing to walk straight out to the moonwith nothing between her and the water but a path of gold. Then sherecalled 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 onlya few moments to get to the moon. But the farther she went, thefarther from her the doorway seemed to go. But she did not mind thatthe walk was so long because it was so pretty. Looking over the edgeof the Wake of Gold, deep down in the water, she could see all kindsof strange sights. 

“At one place a school of little fish swam up to the surface of thewater. Klara knelt down and watched their pretty, graceful motions. The longer she gazed the more fish she saw and the more beautifulthey seemed. Pale-blue fishes with silver spots. Pale-pink ones withgolden stripes. Gorgeous red ones with jewelled black horns. Brilliant yellow and green ones that shone like phosphorus. And hereand there, gliding among them, were what seemed little angel-fishlike living rainbows, whose filmy wing-like fins changed color whenthey swam. 

“Klara reached into the water and tried to catch some of thesemarvelous beings. 

“But at her first motion—bing! The water looked as if it werestreaked 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 bottomthe sand was so white and shiny that it might have been made ofstar-dust. Growing up from it were beds of marvelous seaflowers, opening and shutting delicate petals, beautiful seafans that wavedwith every ripple, high, thick shrubs and towering trees in whichthe fishes had built their nests. In and out among all thisundergrowth, frisked tiny sea-horses, ridden by mischievoussea-urchins. They leaped and trotted and galloped as if they were sohappy that they did not know what to do. Klara felt that she mustplay with them. She put one little foot into the water to attracttheir attention. Bing! The water seemed alive with scuttling things. Swish! The grotto was so quiet that she could not believe that therewas anything living in it. 

“A little farther on, Klara came upon a sight even more wonderfulthan this—a village of mer-people. It was set so far down in thewater that it seemed a million miles away. And yet the water was soclear that she felt she could touch the housetops. 

“The mer-houses seemed to be made of a beautiful, sparkling whitecoral with big, wide-open windows through which the tide drifted. The mer-streets seemed to be cobbled in pearl, the sidewalks to bepaved in gold. At their sides grew mer-trees, the highest she hadever seen, with all kinds of beautiful singing fish roosting intheir branches. Little mer-boats of carved pink coral with purpleseaweed sails or of mother-of-pearl with rosy, mer-flower-petalsails, were floating through the streets. In some, sat littlemer-maidens, the sunlight flashing on their pretty green scales, ontheir long, golden tresses, on the bright mirrors they held in theirhands. Other boats held little mer-boys who made beautiful music onthe harps they carried. 

“At one end of the mer-village Klara could see one palace, biggerand more beautiful than all the others. Through an open window shecaught a glimpse of the mer-king—a jolly old fellow with a fat redface and a long white beard sitting on a throne of gold. At his sidereclined the mer-queen—a very beautiful lady with a skin as white asmilk and eyes as green as emeralds. Little mer-princes and littlemer-princesses were playing on the floor with tiny mer-kittens andtinier mer-puppies. One sweet little mer-baby was tiptailing towardsthe window with a pearl that she had stolen from her sister’scoronet. 

“It seemed to Klara that this mer-village was the most enchantingplace that she had ever seen in her life. Oh, how she wanted to livethere!

“‘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 paradisethat the world contained had taken flight. Swish! It was perfectlyquiet again. The mer-village was as deserted as a graveyard. 

“‘Well, if they don’t want me, they shan’t get me, Klara said. Andshe walked on twice as proud. ’

“By this time she was getting closer and closer to the moon. Thenearer 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 agarden—a garden more beautiful than any fairy-tale garden that shehad ever read about. From the doorway silvery paths stretchedbetween hedges as high as a giant’s head. Sometimes these pathsended in fountains whose spray twisted into all kinds of fairy-likeshapes. Sometimes these paths seemed to stop flush against theclouds. Nearer stretched flower-beds so brilliant that you wouldhave thought a kaleidoscope had broken on the ground. Birds, likeliving jewels, flew in and out through the tree-branches. They sangso hard that it seemed to Klara they must burst their littlethroats. From the branches hung all kinds of precious stones, allkinds 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 ladyappeared. She looked as if she had stepped out of a fairy-tale. Andyet Klara had a strange feeling of discomfort when she looked ather. It seemed to Klara that the old lady’s mouth was cruel and hereyes 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 itclosed, 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 thebirds; gone, too, were the jewels, the candies and the fruits. 

“The place had become a huge, dreary waste, stretching as far asKlara could see into the distance. It seemed to her as if all thetrash that the world had outgrown had been dumped here—it was socovered with heaps of old rubbish. 

“Klara turned to the old lady. She had not changed except that hercruel mouth sneered. 

“Klara burst into tears. ‘I want to go home, ’ she screamed. ‘Let mego back to my mother. ’

“The old lady only smiled. ‘You open that door and let me go back tomy mother, ’ Klara cried passionately. 

“‘But I can’t open it, ’ the old lady said. ‘It’s locked. I have nokeys. ’

“‘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 backto my home. You shan’t keep me from my own dear mother, you wickedwoman. ’

“‘Nobody wants to keep you, ’ the old lady said. ‘You came of yourown accord. Find the keys if you want to go back. ’

“That was true and Klara wisely did not answer. But you can fancyhow she regretted coming. She began to search among the dump-heaps. She could find no keys. But the longer she hunted the moredetermined she grew. It seemed to her that she searched for weeksand weeks. 

“It was very discouraging, very dirty and very fatiguing work. Shemoved always in a cloud of dust. At times it seemed as if her backwould break from bending so much. Often she had to bite her lips tokeep from screaming with rage after she had gone through arubbish-pile as high as her head and, still, no keys. All kinds ofvenomous insects stung her. All kinds of vines and brambles scratchedher. All kinds of stickers and thistles pricked her. Her little feetand hands bled all the time. But still she kept at it. After that firstconversation, Klara never spoke with the old lady again. After a fewdays Klara left her in the distance. At the end of a week, themoon-door was no longer in sight when Klara looked back. 

“But during all those weeks of weary work Klara had a chance tothink. She saw for the first time what a naughty little girl she hadbeen and how she had worried the kindest mother in the world. Herlonging for her mother grew so great at times that she had to sitdown and cry. But after a while she would dry her eyes and go at thehunt with fresh determination. 

“One day she caught a glint of something shining from a clump ofbushes. She had to dig and dig to get at it for about these bushesthe ashes were packed down hard. But finally she uncovered a pair ofiron keys. On one was printed in letters of gold, ‘I’M SORRY, ’ onthe other, ‘I’LL NEVER DO SO AGAIN. ’

“Klara seized the keys joyfully and ran all the long way back to thegreat 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 secondlock, 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 boundedthrough the opening and ran. She turned back after a few moments andthere was the old lady with her cat and her broomstick standing inthe 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 acrossthe 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 soagain. ’

“And as she ran all the little mer-people came to the surface of thewater to encourage her. The little mer-maidens flashed their mirrorsat 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 akiss. All the little mer-princesses and all the little mer-princesheld up their pets to her. Even the mer-baby clapped her dimpledhands. 

“And farther on all the little sea horses with the sea urchins ontheir backs assembled in bobbing groups. And farther on all thelittle rainbow fishes gathered in shining files. As she ran all thescratches and gashes in her flesh healed up. 

“After a while she reached her own window. Opening it, she jumpedin. Turning to pull it down she saw the old lady disappear from thedoorway of the moon, saw the door close upon her, saw the Wake ofGold melt and fall into the sea where it lay in a million gleamingspangles, saw the moon float up into the sky, growing smaller andsmaller and paler and paler until it was no larger than a silverplate. And now it was the moon no longer—it was the sun. Its rayswere shining hot on her face. She was back in her little bed. Hermother’s arms were about her and Klara was saying, ‘I’m SORRY. IWILL NEVER DO SO AGAIN. ’”

 ----------------------

For a long time after Billy finished the room was very quiet. Thensuddenly 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 thinkI’ll go home. ”

 CHAPTER IX: WORK

It was still raining when Maida got up the next day. It rained allthe morning. She listened carefully at a quarter to twelve for theone-session bell but it did not ring. Just before school began inthe afternoon Rosie came into the shop. Maida saw at once thatsomething had happened to her. Rosie’s face looked strange and shedragged 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. ButAunt Theresa was there—she’d cooked the dinner. She said that motherhad gone away for a visit and that she wouldn’t be back for sometime. She said she was going to keep house for father and me whilemother was gone. I feel dreadfully homesick and lonesome withoutmother. ”

“Oh Rosie, I am sorry, ” Maida said. “But perhaps your mother won’tstay 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. ’sare going to meet at Dicky’s after school this afternoon. Be sure tocome, Maida. ”

“Of course I’ll come. ” Maida’s whole face sparkled. “That is, ifGranny doesn’t think it’s too wet. ”

Rosie lingered for a few moments but she did not seem like her usualhappy-go-lucky self. And when she left, Maida noticed that insteadof running across the street she actually walked. 

All the morning long Maida talked of nothing to Granny but theprospective meeting of the W. M. N. T. ’s. “Just think, Granny, I neverbelonged to a club before, ” she said again and again. 

Very early she had put out on her bed the clothes that she intendedto wear—a tanbrown serge of which she was particularly fond, and herfavorite “tire” of a delicate, soft lawn. She kept rushing to thewindow to study the sky. It continued to look like the inside of adull tin cup. She would not have eaten any lunch at all if Grannyhad not told her that she must. And her heart sank steadily all theafternoon for the rain continued to come down. 

“I don’t suppose I can go, Granny, ” she faltered when the clockstruck four. 

“Sure an you _can_, ” Granny responded briskly. 

But she wrapped Maida up, as Maida herself said: “As if I was one ofpapa’s carved crystals come all the way from China. ”

First Granny put on a sweater, then a coat, then over all araincoat. She put a hood on her head and a veil over that. She madeher wear rubber boots and take an umbrella. Maida got into a gale oflaughter during the dressing. 

“I ought to be wrapped in excelsior now, ” she said. “If I fall downin the puddle in the court, Granny, ” she threatened merrily, “Inever can pick myself up. I’ll either have to roll and roll and rolluntil I get on to dry land or I’ll have to wait until somebody comesand shovels me out. ”

But she did not fall into the puddle. She walked carefully along theedge and then ran as swiftly as her clothes and lameness wouldpermit. She arrived in Dicky’s garret, red-cheeked and breathless. 

Arthur and Rosie had already come. Rosie was playing on the floorwith Delia and the puppy that she had rescued from the tin-canpersecution. Rosie was growling, the dog was yelping and Delia wassquealing—but all three with delight. 

Arthur and Dicky sat opposite each other, working at the roundtable. 

“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, wouldyou? Isn’t he a nice-looking little puppy?”

Tag did look like another dog. He wore a collar and his yellowy coatshone like satin. His whole manner had changed. He came running overto Maida and stood looking at her with the most spirited air in theworld, his head on one side, one paw up and one ear cockedinquisitively. His tail wriggled so fast that Delia thinking it somewonderful new toy, kept trying to catch it and hold it in her littlefingers. 

“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, huggingDelia. “Oh, if I only had a baby brother or sister!”

“She’s a darling, ” Maida agreed heartily. “Babies are so much morefun than dolls, don’t you think so, Rosie?”

“Dolls!” No words can express the contempt that was in Miss Brine’saccent. 

“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 entirelyof paper. Some were of white paper and others of brown, but theywere all decorated with trimmings of colored tissue. 

“What are they?” Maida asked. “Aren’t they lovely? I never sawanything like them in my life. ”

Dicky blushed all over his face at this compliment but it wasevident that he was delighted. “Well, those are paper-boxes, ” hesaid, pointing to the different piles of things, “and those aresteamships. Those are the old-fashioned kind with doublesmokestacks. 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 atone of great satisfaction. “I’ve often wondered. ” She examinedDicky’s work carefully. She could see that it was done withremarkable precision and skill. “Oh, what fun to do things likethat. I do wish you’d show me how to make them, Dicky. I’m such auseless 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 fairevery spring and every fall for the last three years. That’s how weget our money for Christmas and the Fourth of July. Arthur whittlesthings out of wood—he’ll show you what he can do in a minute—he’s acrackajack. 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 innails. I charge them ten nails a-piece for the easy things and twentynails for the hardest. Arthur can get more for his stuff becauseit’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’rebeginning so early this year, I’ve got something very particular Iwant to buy my mother for a Christmas present. Can you keep asecret, Maida?”

Maida nodded. 

“Well, it’s a fur collar for her neck. They have them down in astore 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 Iguess 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 momentof silence in which she considered this statement. “When the timecomes 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 theshelves off and you boys can put your things there. I’ll clear outthe showcases for Rosie’s candy. Won’t that be lovely?” She smiledhappily. 

“It would be grand business for us, ” Dicky said soberly, “butsomehow it doesn’t seem quite fair to you. ”

“Oh, please don’t think of that, ” Maida said. “I’d just love to doit. 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? AndArthur?” She looked from one to the other with all her heart in hereyes. 

But nobody spoke for a moment. “It seems somehow as if we oughtn’tto, ” Dicky said awkwardly at last. 

Maida’s lip trembled. At first she could not understand. Here shewas aching to do a kindness to these three friends of hers. Andthey, for some unknown reason, would not permit it. It was not thatthey disliked her, she knew. What was it? She tried to put herselfin 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 preventthat? She must let them do something for her that would lessen thatdebt. But what? She thought very hard. In a flash it came to her—aplan by which she could make it all right. 

“You see, ” she began eagerly, “I wanted to ask you three to help mein something, but I can’t do it unless you let me help you. Listen—the next holiday is Halloween. I want to decorate my shopwith a lot of real jack-o’-lanterns cut from pumpkins. It will behard work and a lot of it and I was hoping that perhaps you’d helpme 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 saidreflectively. 

“And I’ll help you fix up the store, ” Rosie said with enthusiasm. “Ijust love to make things look pretty. ”

“It’s a bargain then, ” Maida said. “And now you must teach me how tohelp you this very afternoon, Dicky. ”

They fell to work with a vim. At least three of them did. Rosiecontinued to frisk with Delia and Tag on the floor. Dicky startedMaida on the caps first. He said that those were the easiest. And, indeed she had very little trouble with anything until she came tothe boxes. She had to do her first box over and over again before itwould come right. But Dicky was very patient with her. He kepttelling her that she did better than most beginners or she wouldhave given it up. When she made her first good box, her face beamedwith satisfaction. 

“Do you mind if I take it home, Dicky?” she asked. “I’d like to showit to my father when he comes. It’s the first thing I ever made inmy life. ”

“Of course, ” Dicky said. 

“Don’t the other children ever try to copy your things?” Maidaasked. 

“They try to, ” Arthur answered, “but they never do so well asDicky. ”

“You ought to see their nose-pinchers, ” Rosie laughed. “They can’tstand up straight. And their boxes and steamships are the wobbliestthings. ”

“I’m going to get all kinds of stuff for things we make for thefair, ” Maida said reflectively. “Gold and silver paper and coloredstars and pretty fancy pictures for trimmings. You see if you’regoing to charge real money you must make them more beautiful thanthose for which you only charged nails. ”

“That’s right, ” Dicky said. “By George, that will be great! You goahead and buy whatever you think is right, Maida, and I’ll pay youfor 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 Ilearned how to do in sloyd in school. I make bread-boards androlling pins and shinny sticks and cats and little baskets out ofcherry-stones. ”

“Jiminy crickets, he’s forgetting the boats, ” Dicky burst inenthusiastically. “He makes the dandiest boats you ever saw in yourlife. ”

Maida looked at Arthur in awe. “I never heard anything like it! Canyou make anything for girls?”

“Made me a set of the darlingest dolls’ furniture you ever saw inyour life, ” Rosie put in from the floor. 

“Say, did you get into any trouble last night?” Arthur turnedsuddenly to Rosie. “I forgot to ask you. ”

“Arthur and Rosie hooked jack yesterday, in all that rain, ” Dickyexplained to Maida. “They knew a place where they could get a wholelot of old iron and they were afraid if they waited, it would begone. ”

“I should say I did, ” Rosie answered Arthur’s question. “Somebodywent and tattled to my mother. Of course, I was wet through to theskin and that gave the whole thing away, anyway. I got the worstscolding and mother sent me to bed without my supper. But I climbedout the window and went over to see Maida. I don’t mind! I hateschool and as long as I live I shall never go except when I wantto—never, never, never! I guess I’m not going to be shut up studyingwhen I’d rather be out in the open air. Wouldn’t you hook jack ifyou wanted to, Maida?”

Maida did not reply for an instant. She hated to have Rosie ask thisquestion, point-blank for she did not want to answer it. If she saidexactly what she thought there might be trouble. And it seemed toher that she would do almost anything rather than lose Rosie’sfriendship. But Maida had been taught to believe that the truth isthe most precious thing in the world. And so she told the truthafter 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. “Youdon’t have to go to school. You live the easiest life that anybodycan—just sitting in a chair and tending shop all day. What do youknow about it, anyway?”

Maida’s lips quivered. “It is true I don’t go to school, Rosie, ” shesaid. “But it isn’t because I don’t want to. I’d give anything onearth if I could go. I watch that line of children every morning andafternoon of my life and wish and _wish_ and WISH I was in it. Andwhen the windows are opened and I hear the singing and reading, itseems as if I just couldn’t stand it. ”

“Oh, well, ” Rosie’s tone was still scornful. “I don’t believe, evenif you did go to school, that you’d ever do anything bad. You’dnever 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 teacherasked, ” Maida said dejectedly. “I do a lot of things that botherGranny but I guess I never have been a very naughty girl. You can’tbe very naughty with your leg all crooked under you. ” Maida’s voicehad grown bitter. The children looked at her in amazement. “Butwhat’s the use of talking to you two, ” she went on. “You could neverunderstand. I guess Dicky knows what I mean, though. ”

To their great surprise, Maida put her head down on the table andcried. 

For a moment the room was perfectly silent. The fire snapped andDicky went over to look at it. He stood with his back turned to theother children but a suspicious snuffle came from his direction. Arthur Duncan walked to the window and stood looking out. Rosie satstill, her eyes downcast, her little white teeth biting her redlips. Then suddenly she jumped to her feet, ran like a whirlwind toMaida’s side. She put her arms about the bowed figure. 

“Oh, do excuse me, Maida, ” she begged. “I know I’m the worst girl inthe world. Everybody says so and I guess it’s true. But I do loveyou and I wouldn’t have hurt your feelings for anything. I don’tbelieve you’d be a fraid-cat or teacher’s pet—I truly don’t. Pleaseexcuse me. ”

Maida wiped her tears away. “Of course I’ll excuse you! But just thesame, Rosie, I hope you won’t hook jack any more for someday you’llbe sorry. ”

“I’m going to make some candy now, ” Rosie said, adroitly changingthe subject. “I brought some molasses and butter and everything Ineed. ” She began to bustle about the stove. Soon they were alllaughing again. 

Maida had never pulled candy before and she thought it the mostenchanting 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 perseveredand succeeded in pulling hers whiter than anybody’s. She laughed andtalked so busily that, when she started to put on her things, alltraces of tears had disappeared. 

The rain had stopped. The puddle was of monster size after so long astorm. They came out just in time to help Molly fish Tim out of thewater and to prevent Betsy from giving a stray kitten a bath. Following Rosie and Arthur, Maida waded through it from one end tothe other—it seemed the most perilous of adventures to her. 

After that meeting, the W. M. N. T. ’s were busier than they had everbeen. Every other afternoon, and always when it was bad weather, they worked at Maida’s house. Granny gave Maida a closet all toherself and as fast as the things were finished they were put inboxes and stowed away on its capacious shelves. 

Arthur whittled and carved industriously. His work went slower thanDicky’s of course but, still, it went with remarkable quickness. Maida often stopped her own work on the paper things to watchArthur’s. It was a constant marvel to her that such big, awkward-looking hands could perform feats of such delicacy. Herown fingers, small and delicate as they were, bungled surprisinglyat 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 offmy hands and face. I pick it off of my clothes and sometimes Grannycombs 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 hearthe clock strike nine. Always there would be molasses-candy makingby the capable Rosie at the kitchen stove and corn-popping by thevigorous Arthur on the living-room hearth. After the candy hadcooled and the pop corn had been flooded in melted butter, theywould gather about the hearth to roast apples and chestnuts and tolisten to the fairy-tales that Maida would read. 

The one thing which she could do and they could not was to read withthe ease and expression of a grown person. As many of her books werein French as in English and it was the wonder of the otherW. M. N. T. ’s that she could read a French story, translating as shewent. Her books were a delight to Arthur and Dicky and she lent themfreely. Rosie liked to listen to stories but she did not care toread. 

Maida was very happy nowadays. Laura was the only person in theCourt who had caused her any uneasiness. Since the day that Laurahad made herself so disagreeable, Maida had avoided her steadily. Best of all, perhaps, Maida’s health had improved so much that evenher limp was slowly disappearing. 

In the course of time, the children taught Maida the secret languageof the W. M. N. T. ’s. They could hold long conversations that wereunintelligible to anybody else. When at first they used it in funbefore Maida, she could not understand a word. After they hadexplained it to her, she wondered that she had ever been puzzled. 

“It’s as easy as anything, ” Rosy said. “You take off the first soundof a word and put it on the end with an _ay_ added to it likeMAN—an-may. BOY—oy-bay. GIRL—irl-gay. When a word is just one soundlike 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 meansimply, “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-wayArthur-way. ”

Billy Potter was finally invited to join the W. M. N. T. ’s too. Henever missed a meeting if he could possibly help it. 

“Why do you call Maida, ‘Petronilla’?” Dicky asked him curiously oneday when Maida had run home for more paper. 

“Petronilla is the name of a little girl in a fairy-tale that I readwhen 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 shewas a baby, ” Billy explained. “It was a magic star. Nobody butfairies could see it but it was always there. Anybody who camewithin the light of Petronilla’s star, no matter how wicked orhopeless or unhappy he was, was made better and hopefuller andhappier. ”

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 theytalked this gibberish before him, he listened mystified. But totheir great surprise he never asked a question. They went right ontalking as if he were not present. In an interval of silence, Billysaid softly:

“I-way onder-way if-way I-way ought-bay a-way uart-quay of-wayice-way-eam-cray, ese-thay ildren-chay ould-way eat-way it-way. ”

For a moment nobody could speak. Then a deafening, “es-yay!” wasshouted 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 supposethat they left no time to play. Indeed, the weather was so fine thatit was hard to stay in the house. The beautiful Indian summer hadcome and each new day dawned more perfect than the last. The treeshad become so gorgeous that it was as if the streets were lined withburning torches. Whenever a breeze came, they seemed to flicker andflame and flare. Maida and Rosie used to shuffle along the guttersgathering pocketsful of glossy horse-chestnuts and handfuls ofgorgeous leaves. 

Sometimes it seemed to Maida that she did not need to play, thatthere was fun enough in just being out-of-doors. But she did play agreat deal for she was well enough to join in all the fun now and itseemed to her that she never could get enough of any one game. 

She would play house and paper-dolls and ring-games with the littlechildren in the morning when the older ones were in school. Shewould play jackstones with the bigger girls in the afternoon. Shewould play running games with the crowd of girls and boys, of whomthe W. M. N. T. ’s were the leaders, towards night. Then sometimes shewould grumble to Granny because the days were so short. 

Of all the games, Hoist-the-Sail was her favorite. She often servedas captain on her side. But whether she called or awaited the cry, “Liberty poles are bending—hoist the sail!” a thrill ran through herthat made her blood dance. 

“It’s no use in talking, Granny, ” Maida said joyfully one day. “Myleg is getting stronger. I jumped twenty jumps to-day withoutstopping. ”

After that her progress was rapid. She learned to jump in the ropewith Rosie. 

They were a pretty sight. People passing often gave them more thanone glance—Rosie so vivid and sparkling, in the scarlet cape and hatall velvety jet-blacks, satiny olives and brilliant crimsons—Maidaslim, delicate, fairy-like in her long squirrel-coat and cap, herairy ringlets streaming in the breeze and the eyes that had oncebeen so wistful now shining with happiness. 

“Do you know what you look like, Maida?” Rosie said once. BeforeMaida could answer, she went on. “You look like that little mermaidprincess in Anderson’s fairy tales—the one who had to suffer so toget legs like mortals. ”

“Do I?” Maida laughed. “Now isn’t it strange I have always thoughtthat you look like somebody in a fairy tale, too. You’re likeRose-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 likethis, “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 thatstrange?”

“I guess, ” Maida announced after a moment of thought, “people likewhat they haven’t got. ”

After a while, Rosie taught Maida to jump in the big rope with ahalf a dozen children at once. Maida never tired of this. When sheheard the rope swishing through the air, a kind of excitement cameover her. She was proud to think that she had caught the trick—thatsomething inside would warn her when to jump—that she could be surethat this warning would not come an instant too soon or too late. The consciousness of a new strength and a new power made a differentchild of her. It made her eyes sparkle like gray diamonds. It madeher cheeks glow like pink peonies. 

By this time she could spin tops with the best of them—sometimes shehad five tops going at once. This was a sport of which theW. 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 dozentimes before Maida appeared. Maida did not mean to be disobedient. She simply did not hear the bell. Granny’s scoldings for thiscarelessness were very gentle—Maida’s face was too radiant with hertriumph in this new skill. 

There was something about Primrose Court—the rows of trees weldedinto a yellow arch high over their heads, the sky showing through indiamond-shaped glints of blue, the tiny trim houses and theirtinier, trimmer yards, the doves pink-toeing everywhere, theirthroats bubbling color as wonderful as the old Venetian glass in theBeacon Street house, the children running and shouting, the verysmell of the dust which their pattering feet threw up—something inthe look of all this made Maida’s spirits leap. 

“I’m happy, _happy_, HAPPY, ” Maida said one day. The next—Rosie camerushing into the shop with a frightened face. 

“Oh, Maida, ” she panted, “a terrible thing has happened. LauraLathrop’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 timesyesterday. 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 gonear her. Nobody goes into the room but her mother and the nurse. ”

The news cast a deep gloom over the Court. The littlechildren—Betsy, Molly and Tim played as usual for they could notunderstand the situation. But the noisy fun of the older childrenceased entirely. They gathered on the corner and talked in lowvoices, watching with dread any movement in the Lathrop house. For aweek or more Primrose Court was the quietest spot in theneighborhood. 

“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 themorning, her face shining with hope. “And they think she’s a littlebetter. ” But late the next afternoon, Rosie appeared again, her facedark with dread, “Laura’s worse again. ”

Two or three days passed. Sometimes Laura was better. Oftener shewas worse. Dr. Ames’s carriage seemed always to be driving into theCourt. 

“Annie says she’s dying, ” Rosie retailed despairingly. “They don’tthink she’ll live through the night. Oh, won’t it be dreadful towake up to-morrow and find the crape on the door. ”

The thought of what she might see in the morning kept Maida awake along time that night. When she arose her first glance was for theLathrop door. There was no crape. 

“No better, ” Rosie dropped in to say on her way to school “but, ” sheadded hopefully, “she’s no worse. ”

Maida watched the Lathrop house all day, dreading to see theundertaker’s wagon drive up. But it did not come—not that day, northe 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 shewas 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 oneo’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 eachother 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, ” Maidasaid. 

“So am I, ” Rosie declared with equal fervor. “The last thing I eversaid to her was that she was ‘a hateful little smarty-cat. ’”

Five minutes before one, the next day, all the children in PrimroseCourt gathered on the lawn in front of Laura’s window. Maida ledMolly by one hand and Tim by the other. Rosie led Betsy and Delia. Dorothy Clark held Fluff and Mabel held Tag. Promptly at oneo’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 andthe girls their handkerchiefs. Tag barked madly and Rosie declaredafterwards that even Fluff looked excited. But Maida stood stillwith the tears streaming down her cheeks—Laura’s face looked sotiny, her eyes so big and sad. From her own experience, Maida couldguess how weak Laura felt. 

Laura stayed only an instant at the window. One feeble wave of herclaw-like hand and she was gone. 

“Annie says Mrs. Lathrop is worn to a shadow trying to find thingsto 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 herand Laura keeps saying she wished she had something new. ”

“Oh, I do wish we could think of something to do for her, ” Maidasaid wistfully. “I know just how she feels. If I could only think ofa new toy—but Laura has everything. And then the trouble with toysis that after you’ve played with them once, there’s no more fun inthem. I know what that is. If we all had telephones, we could talkto 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 haveto have Mrs. Lathrop’s permission though. ” He seized his hat andmade for the door. “I’d better see her about it to-night. ” The doorslammed. 

It had all happened so suddenly that the children gazed after himwith 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 ifBilly makes it, you may be sure it will be wonderful. ”

When Billy came back, they asked him a hundred questions. But theycould 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 fullof bundles. Then followed doings that, for a long time, were amystery to everybody. A crowd of excited children followed himabout, asking him dozens of questions and chattering franticallyamong themselves. 

First, he opened one of the bundles—out dropped eight littlepulleys. Second, he went up into Maida’s bedroom and fastened one ofthe little pulleys on the sill outside her window. Third, he did thesame thing in Rosie’s house, in Arthur’s and in Dicky’s. Fourth, hefastened four of the little pulleys at the playroom window in theLathrop house. 

“Oh, what is he doing?” “I can’t think of anything. ” “Oh, I wishhe’d tell us, ” came from the children who watched these manœuvresfrom the street. 

Fifth, Billy opened another bundle—this time, out came four coils ofa 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 theentreaties of his friends. 

Sixth, Billy ran a double line of rope between Maida’s and Laura’swindow, a second between Rosie’s and Laura’s, a third betweenArthur’s and Laura’s, a fourth between Dicky’s and Laura’s. 

Last, Billy opened another bundle. Out dropped four square tinboxes, each with a cover and a handle. 

“I’ve guessed it! I’ve guessed it!” Maida and Rosie screamedtogether. “It’s a telephone. ”

“That’s the answer, ” Billy confessed. He went from house to housefastening 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 andit will sail over to her window. Suppose you all run home and writesomething now. I’ll go over to Laura’s to see how it works. ”

The children scattered. In a few moments, four excited little facesappeared at as many windows. The telephone worked perfectly. Billyhanded Mrs. Lathrop the notes to deliver to Laura. 

“Oh, Mr. Potter, ” Mrs. Lathrop said suddenly, “there’s a matter thatI wished to speak to you about. That little Flynn girl has lived inthe family of Mr. Jerome Westabrook, hasn’t she?”

Billy’s eyes “skrinkled up. ” “Yes, Mrs. Lathrop, ” he admitted, “shelived 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 ofMaida’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 thelittle Flynn girl, ” Mrs. Lathrop went on, “for they certainly arevery good to her. It is quite evident that Maida’s clothes belongedonce to the little Westabrook girl. ”

“You are quite right, Mrs. Lathrop. They were made for the littleWestabrook girl. ”

Mrs. Lathrop always declared afterwards that it was the telephonethat really cured Laura. Certainly, it proved to be the mostexciting of toys to the little invalid. There was always somethingwaiting for her when she waked up in the morning and the tin boxeskept bobbing from window to window until long after dark. The girlskept her informed of what was going on in the neighborhood and theboys sent her jokes and conundrums and puzzle pictures cut from thenewspapers. Gifts came to her at all hours. Sometimes it would be abit of wood-carving—a grotesque face, perhaps—that Arthur had done. Sometimes it was a bit of Dicky’s pretty paper-work. Rosie sent herspecimens of her cooking from candy to hot roasted potatoes, andMaida sent her daily translations of an exciting fairy tale whichshe was reading in French for the first time. 

Pretty soon Laura was well enough to answer the notes herself. Shewrote each of her correspondents a long, grateful and affectionateletter. By and by, she was able to sit in a chair at the window andwatch the games. The children remembered every few moments to lookand wave to her and she always waved back. At last came the morningwhen 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, shecould stand in the ring-games with the little children. By the endof a week, she seemed quite herself. 

One morning every child in Primrose Court received a letter in themail. It was written on gay-tinted paper with a pretty picture atthe 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 betroubled about Rosie. For Rosie was not the same child. Much of thetime she was silent, moody and listless. 

One afternoon she came over to the shop, bringing the Clark twinswith her. For awhile she and Maida played “house” with the littlegirls. Suddenly, Rosie tired of this game and sent the childrenhome. Then for a time, she frolicked with Fluff while Maida readaloud. As suddenly as she had stopped playing “house” sheinterrupted Maida. 

“Don’t read any more, ” she commanded, “I want to talk with you. ”

Maida had felt the whole afternoon that there was something onRosie’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. Icould not forget her any more than a wonderful picture. She used tocome and kiss me every night before she went to dinner with papa. She always smelled so sweet—whenever I see any flowers, I think ofher. And she wore such beautiful dresses and jewels. She lovedsparkly 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 adiamond fastened in every rose to make it look like dew. When herhair was down, it came to her knees. She let me brush it sometimeswith 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 hera whole set one birthday. ”

“How old were you when she died?” Rosie asked after a pause in whichher scowl grew deeper. 

“Eight. ”

“What did she die of?”

“I don’t know, ” Maida answered. “You see I was so little that Ididn’t understand about dying. I had never heard of it. They told meone day that my mother had gone away. I used to ask every day whenshe 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 theytold me that my mother was living far away in a beautiful countryand she would never come back. They said that I must not cry for shestill loved me and was always watching over me. It was a greatcomfort to know that and of course I never cried after that for fearof worrying her. But at first it was very lonely. Why, Rosie—” Shestopped 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 askthem—‘next week’ and ‘next week’ and ‘next week’ until I’m sick ofit. My mother is dead and I know it. ”

“Oh, Rosie!” Maida protested. “Oh no, no, no—your mother is notdead. 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 soconvulsively 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 inwhich she thought the matter out. “They were afraid that I might dieif 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 toyour Aunt Theresa as you can. Oh, Rosie, please go to school everyday. ”

“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 seeif I can help Aunt Theresa with the supper. And I’m going to get herto teach me how to cook everything so that I can help mother—if sheever comes home. ”

The next day Rosie came into the shop with the happiest look thatshe 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. Sheasked me what had got into me?”

“I’m glad, ” Maida approved. 

“I asked her when mother was coming back and she said the samething, ‘Next week, I think. ’” Rosie’s lip quivered. 

“I think she’ll come back, Rosie, ” Maida insisted. “And now let’snot talk any more about it. Let’s come out to play. ”

Mindful of her own lecture on obedience to Rosie, Maida skipped homethe 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 wastrying to keep her lips prim at the corners. She wondered who itwas. Could it be—

She ran into the living-room. Her father jumped up from theeasy-chair to meet her. 

“Well, well, well, Miss Rosy-Cheeks. No need to ask how you are!” hesaid kissing her. 

“Oh papa, papa, I never was so happy in all my life. If you couldonly be here with me all the time, there wouldn’t be another thingin the world that I wanted. Don’t you think you could give up WallStreet 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 easyas 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 youlike big things—just as I like little ones. ”

“Buffalo” Westabrook laughed. “I may have to come to it yet but itdoesn’t look like it this moment. My gracious, Posie, how you haveimproved! I never would know you for the same child. Where did youget those dimples? I never saw them in your face before. Your motherhad 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!” shesquealed. “Really, papa?” She ran over to the mirror, climbed up ona chair and peeked in. Her face fell. “I don’t see any, ” she saidmournfully. 

“And you’re losing your limp, ” Mr. Westabrook said. Then catchingsight of her woe-begone face, he laughed. “That’s because you’vestopped smiling, you little goose, ” he said. “Grin and you’ll seethem. ”

Obedient, Maida grinned so hard that it hurt. But the grin softenedto a smile of perfect happiness. For, sure enough, pricking throughthe 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 busytime for Maida and the other members of the W. M. N. T. In theafternoon, they all worked like beavers making jack-o’-lanterns ofthe dozen pumpkins that Granny had ordered. Maida and Rosie andDicky hollowed and scraped them. Arthur did all the hard work—thecutting out of the features, the putting-in of candle-holders. Thesepumpkin lanterns were for decoration. But Maida had ordered manypaper jack-o’-lanterns for sale. The W. M. N. T. ’s spent the eveningrearranging the shop. Maida went to bed so tired that she couldhardly drag one foot after the other. Granny had to undress her. 

But when the school-children came flocking in the next morning, shefelt more than repaid for her work. The shop resounded with the “Ohmys, ” and “Oh looks, ” of their surprise and delight. 

Indeed, the room seemed full of twinkling yellow faces. Lines ofthem grinned in the doorway. Rows of them smirked from the shelves. A frieze, close-set as peas in a pod, grimaced from the molding. Thejolly-looking pumpkin jacks, that Arthur had made, were piled in apyramid in the window. The biggest of them all—“he looks just likethe man in the moon, ” Rosie said—smiled benignantly at thepassers-by from the top of the heap. Standing about everywhere amongthe lanterns were groups of little paper brownies, their tiny headsturned upwards as if, in the greatest astonishment, they wereexamining 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!” Maidasaid. By dark, she was diving breathlessly into her surplus stock. At the first touch of twilight, she lighted every lantern left inthe place. Five minutes afterwards, a crowd of children had gatheredto gaze at the flaming faces in the window. Even the grown-upsstopped to admire the effect. 

More customers came and more—a great many children whom Maida hadnever seen before. By six o’clock, she had sold out her entirestock. When she sat down to dinner that night, she was a very happylittle girl. 

“This is the best day I’ve had since I opened the shop, ” she saidcontentedly. She was not tired, though. “I feel just like going to aparty to-night. Granny, can I wear my prettiest Roman sash?”

“You can wear annyt’ing you want, my lamb, ” Granny said, “for ’tisthe 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 handand many insertions of a beautiful, fine lace. Maida chose to wearwith 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, ” shesuggested, “so I won’t rumple my dress. ”

But she was too excited to read. She sat for a long time at thewindow, just looking out. Presently the jack-o’-lanterns, lightednow, began to make blobs of gold in the furry darkness of thestreet. She could not at first make out who held them. It wasstrange to watch the fiery, grinning heads, flying, bodiless, fromplace to place. But she identified the lanterns in the court by thehouses from which they emerged. The three small ones on the end atthe left meant Dicky and Molly and Tim. Two big ones, mounted onsticks, came from across the way—Rosie and Arthur, of course. Two, just alike, trotting side by side betrayed the Clark twins. Ababy-lantern, swinging close to the ground—that could be nobody butBetsy. 

The crowd in the Court began to march towards the shop. For aninstant, Maida watched the spots of brilliant color dancing in herdirection. Then she slipped into her coat, and seized her ownlantern. When she came outside, the sidewalk seemed crowded withgrotesque faces, all laughing at her. 

“Just think, ” she said, “I have never been to a Halloween party inmy 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 hangMay-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 andHarold had come out to meet them. On the lawn they broke into animpromptu game of tag which the jack-o’-lanterns seemed to enjoy asmuch as the children: certainly, they whizzed from place to place asquickly and, certainly, they smiled as hard. 

The game ended, they left their lanterns on the piazza and troopedinto the house. 

“We’ve got to play the first games in the kitchen, ” Laura announcedafter the coats and hats had come off and Mrs. Lathrop had greetedthem all. 

Maida wondered what sort of party it was that was held in thekitchen 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 applesfloating in it. 

“Bobbing for apples!” the children exclaimed. “Oh, that’s thegreatest 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 onthe floor, clasp your hands behind you, and pick out one of theapples with your teeth. You’ll each be allowed three minutes. ”

“Oh, I can get a half a dozen in three minutes, I guess, ” Maidasaid. 

Laura tied a big apron around Maida’s waist and stood, watch inhand. The children gathered in a circle about the tub. Maida knelton the floor, clasped her hands behind her and reached with awide-open mouth for the nearest apple. But at the first touch of herlips, the apple bobbed away. She reached for another. That bobbedaway, too. Another and another and another—they all bobbed clean outof her reach, no matter how delicately she touched them. That methodwas unsuccessful. 

“One minute, ” called Laura. 

Maida could hear the children giggling at her. She tried anotherscheme, making vicious little dabs at the apples. Her beads and herhair-ribbon and one of her long curls dipped into the water. But sheonly 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. “Youknow you said it was so easy. ”

Maida giggled too. But inwardly, she made up her mind that she wouldget 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. Wedgingit there against another big apple, she held it tight. Then shedropped her head a little, gave a sudden big bite and arose amidstapplause, with the apple secure between her teeth. 

After that she had the fun of watching the other children. The olderones were adepts. In three minutes, Rosie secured four, Dicky fiveand Arthur six. Rosie did not get a drop of water on her but theboys emerged with dripping heads. The little children were not verysuccessful but they were more fun. Molly swallowed so much waterthat she choked and had to be patted on the back. Betsy after a fewsnaps of her little, rosebud mouth, seized one of the apples withher hand, sat down on the floor and calmly ate it. But the climaxwas reached when Tim Doyle suddenly lurched forward and fellheadlong into the tub. 

“I knew he’d fall in, ” Molly said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Healways falls into everything. I brought a dry set of clothes forhim. Come, Tim!”

At this announcement, everybody shrieked. Molly disappeared with Timin the direction of Laura’s bedroom. When she reappeared, sureenough, Tim had a dry suit on. 

Next Laura ordered them to sit about the kitchen-table. She gaveeach child an apple and a knife and directed him to pare the applewithout 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. Shespoiled three apples before she succeeded. 

“Now take your apple-paring and form in line across thekitchen-floor, ” Laura commanded. 

The flock scampered to obey her. 

“Now when I say ‘Three!’” she continued, “throw the parings backover your shoulder to the floor. If the paring makes a letter, itwill be the initial of your future husband or wife. One! _Two_!THREE!”

A dozen apple-parings flew to the floor. Everybody raced across theroom to examine the results. 

“Mine is B, ” Dicky said. 

“And mine’s an O, ” Rosie declared, “as plain as anything. What’syours, Maida?”

“It’s an X, ” Maida answered in great perplexity. “I don’t believethat there are any names beginning with X except Xenophon andXerxes. ”

“Well, mine’s as bad, ” Laura laughed, “it’s a Z. I guess I’ll beMrs. Zero. ”

“That’s nothing, ” Arthur laughed, “mine’s an &—I can’t marry anybodynamed ——‘and. ’”

“Well, if that isn’t successful, ” Laura said, “there’s another wayof finding out who your husband or wife’s going to be. You must walkdown the cellar-stairs backwards with a candle in one hand and amirror 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 init, the face of your husband or wife. ”

This did not interest the little children but the big ones were wildto try it. 

“Gracious, doesn’t it sound scary?” Rosie said, her great eyessnapping. “I love a game that’s kind of spooky, don’t you, Maida?”

Maida did not answer. She was watching Harold who was sneaking outof 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. Thestairs were as dark as pitch. Rosie took the mirror and the candlethat Laura handed her and slipped through the opening. The littleaudience listened breathless. 

They heard Rosie stumble awkwardly down the stairs, heard her pauseat the foot. Next came a moment of silence, of waiting as tenseabove as below. Then came a burst of Rosie’s jolly laughter. Shecame 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 goingto tell you what I saw until you’ve been down yourself. ”

It was Arthur’s turn next. They listened again. The same thinghappened—awkward stumbling down the stairs, a pause, then a roar oflaughter. 

“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 mysteriousdoings. Dicky came back smiling but, like the others, he refused todescribe his experiences. 

Now it was Maida’s turn. She took the candle and the mirror fromDicky and plunged into the shivery darkness of the stairs. It wasdoubly difficult for her to go down backwards because of herlameness. But she finally arrived at the bottom and stood thereexpectantly. It seemed a long time before anything happened. Suddenly, she felt something stir back of her. A lightedjack-o’-lantern came from between the folds of a curtain which hungfrom the ceiling. It grinned over her shoulder at her face in themirror. 

Maida burst into a shriek of laughter and scrambled upstairs. “I’mgoing to marry a jack-o’-lantern, ” she said. “My name’s going to beMrs. Jack Pumpkin. ”

“I’m going to marry Laura’s sailor-doll, ” Rosie confessed. “My nameis 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 forthem. 

“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 twolittle girls were alone, “because I wanted to tell you that I amsorry for the way I treated you just before I got diphtheria. I toldmy mother about it and she said I did those things because I wascoming down sick. She said that people are always fretty and crosswhen they’re not well. But I don’t think it was all that. I guess Idid it on purpose just to be disagreeable. But I hope you willexcuse me. ”

“Of course I will, Laura, ” Maida said heartily. “And I hope you willforgive me for going so long without speaking to you. But you see Iheard, ” she stopped and hesitated, “things, ” she ended lamely. 

“Oh, I know what you heard. I said those things about you to theW. M. N. T. ’s so that they’d get back to you. I wanted to hurt yourfeelings. ” Laura in her turn stopped and hesitated for an instant. “I was jealous, ” she finally confessed in a burst. “But I want youto understand this, Maida. I didn’t believe those horrid thingsmyself. I always have a feeling inside when people are telling liesand I didn’t have that feeling when you were talking to me. I knewyou were telling the truth. And all the time while I was gettingwell, I felt so dreadfully about it that I knew I never would behappy again unless I told you so. ”

“I did feel bad when I heard those things, ” Maida said, “but ofcourse I forgot about them when Rosie told me you were ill. Let’sforget all about it again. ”

But Maida told the W. M. N. T. ’s something of her talk with Laura andthe result was an invitation to Laura to join the club. It wasaccepted gratefully. 

The next month went by on wings. It was a busy month although in away, it was an uneventful one. The weather kept clear and fine. Little rain fell but, on the other hand, to the great disappointmentof the little people of Primrose Court, there was no snow. Maida sawnothing of her father for business troubles kept him in New York. Hewrote constantly to her and she wrote as faithfully to him. Letterscould not quite fill the gap that his absence made. Perhaps Billysuspected Maida’s secret loneliness for he came oftener and oftenerto see her. 

One night the W. M. N. T. ’s begged so hard for a story that he finallybegan one called “The Crystal Ball. ” A wonderful thing about it wasthat it was half-game and half-story. Most wonderful of all, it wenton from night to night and never showed any signs of coming to anend. But in order to play this game-story, there were two or threeconditions to which you absolutely must submit. For instance, itmust always be played in the dark. And first, everybody must shuthis eyes tight. Billy would say in a deep voice, “Abracadabra!” and, presto, there they all were, Maida, Rosie, Laura, Billy, Arthur andDicky inside the crystal ball. What people lived there and whatthings happened to them can not be told here. But after an hour ormore, 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 spendThanksgiving with her but that, he wrote finally, was impossible. Billy came, however, and they three enjoyed one of Granny’sdelicious 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 fromAldigarey, County Sligo or if he knows anybody who did, or if he’sever met a pretty Irish girl by the name of Annie Flynn. But I’llfind her yet—you’ll see. ”

“I hope so, Misther Billy, ” Granny said respectfully. But Maidathought her voice sounded as if she had no great hope. 

Dicky still continued to come for his reading-lessons, althoughMaida could see that, in a month or two, he would not need ateacher. The quiet, studious, pale little boy had become a greatfavorite with Granny Flynn. 

“Sure an’ Oi must be after getting over to see the poor lad’s mothersome noight, ” she said. “’Tis a noice woman she must be wid such apretty-behaved little lad. ”

“Oh, she is, Granny, ” Maida said earnestly. “I’ve been there once ortwice when Mrs. Dore came home early. And she’s just the nicest ladyand so fond of Dicky and the baby. ”

But Granny was old and very easily tired and, so, though herintentions were of the best, she did not make this call. 

One afternoon, after Thanksgiving, Maida ran over to Dicky’s toborrow some pink tissue paper. She knocked gently. Nobody answered. But from the room came the sound of sobbing. Maida listened. It wasDicky’s voice. At first she did not know what to do. Finally, sheopened 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 wasswollen with crying, his eyes red and heavy. For a moment he couldnot speak. Maida could see that he was ashamed of being caught intears, 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 hisbill paid. Mother thought I was asleep and asked him a whole lot ofquestions. He told her that I wasn’t any better and I never would beany 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 theworld, 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 bearit, ” he said. “Why, I thought when I grew up to be a man, I wasgoing to take care of mother and Delia. Instead of that, they’ll betaking care of me. What can a cripple do? Once I read about acrippled newsboy. Do you suppose I could sell papers?” he asked witha gleam of hope. 

“I’m sure you could, ” Maida said heartily, “and a great many otherthings. But it may not be as bad as you think, Dicky. Dr. O’Brienmay be mistaken. You know something was wrong with me when I wasborn and I did not begin to walk until a year ago. My father hastaken me to so many doctors that I’m sure he could not remember halftheir names. But they all said the same thing—that I never wouldwalk like other children. Then a very great physician—Dr. Greinschmidt—came from away across the sea, from Germany. He said hecould cure me and he did. I had to be operated on and—oh—I suffereddreadfully. But you see that I’m all well now. I’m even losing mylimp. Now, I believe that Doctor Greinschmidt can cure you. The nexttime my father comes home I’m going to ask him. ”

Dicky had stopped crying. He was drinking down everything that shesaid. “Is he still here—that doctor?” he asked. 

“No, ” Maida admitted sorrowfully. “But there must be doctors as goodas he somewhere. But don’t you worry about it at all, Dicky. Youwait 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, ” hesaid after a while, “if I could have cried last night when I firstheard it. But of course I couldn’t let mother or Doc O’Brien knowthat I’d heard them—it would make them feel bad. I don’t want mymother ever to know that I know it. ”

After that, Maida redoubled her efforts to be nice to Dicky. Shecudgeled her brains too for new decorative schemes for hispaper-work. She asked Billy Potter to bring a whole bag of her booksfrom the Beacon Street house and she lent them to Dicky, a half dozenat a time. 

Indeed, they were a very busy quartette—the W. M. N. T. ’s. Rosie wentto 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 hookeywith, he, too, was driven to attending school regularly. His leisurehours were devoted to his whittling and wood-carving. He was alwaysdoing 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 inDecember. Maida opened her eyes, jumped obediently out of bed andpattered 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 thewhitest, fleeciest, shiningest wool. Sidewalks, streets, crossingswere all leveled to one smoothness. The fences were so muffled thatthey had swelled to twice their size. The houses wore trim, pointycaps on their gables. The high bushes in the yard hung to the veryground. The low ones had become mounds. The trees looked as if theyhad been packed in cotton-wool and put away for the winter. 

“And the lovely part of it is, it’s still snowing, ” Maida exclaimedblissfully. 

“Glory be, it’ull be a blizzard before we’re t’rough wid ut, ” Grannysaid and shivered. 

Maida dressed in the greatest excitement. Few children came in tomake purchases that morning and the lines pouring into theschoolhouse were very shivery and much shorter than usual. At aquarter to twelve, the one-session bell rang. When the children cameout of school at one, the snow was whirling down thicker and fasterthan in the morning. A high wind came up and piled it in the mostunexpected places. Trade stopped entirely in the shop. No motherwould let her children brave so terrific a storm. 

It snowed that night and all the next morning. The second day fewerchildren went to school than on the first. But at two o’clock whenthe sun burst through the gray sky, the children swarmed thestreets. 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 ofexcitement. “I’ve shoveled our sidewalk, ” she announcedtriumphantly. “Is anything wrong with me? Everybody’s staring atme. ”

Maida stared too. Rosie’s scarlet cape was dotted with snow, herscarlet hat was white with it. Great flakes had caught in her longblack hair, had starred her soft brows—they hung from her veryeyelashes. Her cheeks and lips were the color of coral and her eyeslike great velvety moons. 

“You look in the glass and see what they’re staring at, ” Maida saidslyly. 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 herprettiness. Now she leaped to Maida’s side and pretended to beather. 

“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. “Waittill I get Arthur and Dicky!”

“Couldn’t get many more in here, could we?” Billy commented when thefive had assembled in the “child’s size” yard. “I don’t know that wecould stow away another shovel. Now, first of all, you’re to pileall the snow in the yard into that corner. ”

Everybody went to work. But Billy and Arthur moved so quickly withtheir big shovels that Maida and Rosie and Dicky did nothing but hopabout them. Almost before they realized it, the snow-pile reached tothe 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 shovelsbeating on the snow drowned their talk. 

“That will do for that, ” Billy commanded suddenly. His little forcestopped, breathless and red-cheeked. “Now I’m going to dig out theroom. 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 thehole had grown big enough, he crawled into it. But in spite of hisown 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 dogshakes off water. 

“Why, Billy, you look like a snow-man, ” Maida laughed. 

“I feel like one, ” Billy said, wiping the snow from his eyes andfrom under his collar. “But don’t be discouraged, my hearties, upwith it again. I’ll be more careful the next time. ”

They went at it again with increased interest, heaping up a mound ofsnow bigger than before, beating it until it was as hard as a brick, hollowing out inside a chamber big enough for three of them tooccupy at once. But Billy gave them no time to enjoy their newdwelling. 

“Run into the house, ” was his next order, “and bring out all thewater you can carry. ”

There was a wild scramble to see which would get to the sink firstbut in a few moments, an orderly file emerged from the house, Arthurwith a bucket, Dicky with a basin, Rosie with the dish-pan, Maidawith a dipper. 

“Now I’m going to pour water over the house, ” Billy explained. “Yousee if it freezes now it will last longer. ” Very carefully, hesprayed it on the sides and roof, dashing it upwards on the insidewalls:

“We might as well make it look pretty while we’re about it, ” Billycontinued. “You children get to work and make a lot of snow-ballsthe size of an orange and just as round as you can turn them out. ”

This was easy work. Before Billy could say, “Jack Robinson!” fourpairs of eager hands had accumulated snow-balls enough for a shambattle. In the meantime, Billy had decorated the doorway with twotall, round pillars. He added a pointed roof to the house andtrimmed it with snow-balls, all along the edge. 

“Now I guess we’d better have a snow-man to live in this mansionwhile we’re about it, ” Billy suggested briskly. “Each of you roll upan arm or a leg while I make the body. ”

Billy placed the legs in the corner opposite the snow-house. Helifted 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 timebefore he found the angle at which they would stick. 

Everybody took a hand at the head. Maida contributed some dulse forthe hair, slitting it into ribbons, which she stuck on with glue. Rosie found a broken clothes-pin for the nose. The round, smoothcoals that Dicky discovered in the coal-hod made a pair ofexpressive black eyes. Arthur cut two sets of teeth from orange peeland inserted them in the gash that was the mouth. When the head wasset on the shoulders, Billy disappeared into the house for a moment. He came back carrying a suit-case. “Shut your eyes, every manjack ofyou, ” he ordered. “You’re not to see what I do until it’s done. If Icatch one of you peeking, I’ll confine you in the snow-house forfive minutes. ”

The W. M. N. T. ’s shut their eyes tight and held down the lids withresolute fingers. But they kept their ears wide open. The mysteriouswork on which Billy was engaged was accompanied by the mosttantalizing noises. 

“Oh, Billy, can’t I please look, ” Maida begged, jiggling up anddown. “I can’t stand it much longer. ”

“In a minute, ” Billy said encouragingly. The mysterious noises keptup. “Now, ” Billy said suddenly. 

Four pairs of eyes leaped open. Four pairs of lips shrieked theirdelight. Indeed, Maida and Rosie laughed so hard that they finallyrolled in the snow. 

Billy had put an old coat on the snow-man’s body. He had put a tallhat—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-stumpsand to one of them a cane was fastened. Billy had managed to give thesnow-man’s head a cock to one side. Altogether he looked so spruceand jovial that it was impossible not to like him. 

“Mr. Chumpleigh, ladies and gentlemen, ” Billy said. “Some members ofthe W. M. N. T. , Mr. Chumpleigh. ”

And Mr. Chumpleigh, he was until—until—

Billy stayed that night to dinner. They had just finished eatingwhen an excited ring of the bell announced Rosie. 

“Oh, Granny, ” she said, “the boys have made a most wonderful coastdown Halliwell Street and Aunt Theresa says I can go coasting untilnine 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!” Shewas so excited that she wriggled like a little eel all the timeGranny was bundling her into her clothes. And when she reached thestreet, it seemed as if she must explode. 

A big moon, floating like a silver balloon in the sky, made thenight like day. The neighborhood sizzled with excitement for thestreet and sidewalks were covered with children dragging sleds. 

“It’s like the ‘Pied Piper’, Rosie, ” Maida said joyfully, “childreneverywhere and all going in the same direction. ”

They followed the procession up Warrington Street to where HalliwellStreet sloped down the hill. 

Billy let out a long whistle of astonishment. “Great Scott, what acoast!” he said. 

In the middle of the street was a ribbon of ice three feet wide andas smooth as glass. At the foot of the hill, a piled-up mound ofsnow served as a buffer. 

“The boys have been working on the slide all day, ” Rosie said. “Didyou ever see such a nice one, Maida?”

“I never saw any kind of a one, ” Maida confessed. “How did they makeit 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 soonlearned 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, thenMaida, then Billy. 

“Hold on to Dicky, ” Billy instructed Maida, “and I’ll hold on toyou. ”

Tingling with excitement, Maida did as she was told. But it seemedas 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. Sheheard Rosie’s hysterical shriek, Dicky’s vociferous cheers andBilly’s blood-curdling yells, but she herself was as silent as alittle image. They struck the second slope of the hill—then shescreamed, too. The houses on either side shot past like pictures inthe kinetoscope. She felt a rush of wind that must surely blow herears off. They reached the third slope of the hill—and now they hadleft the earth and were sailing through the air. The next instantthe double-runner had come to rest on the bank of snow and Rosie andshe were hugging each other and saying, “Wasn’t it GREAT?”

They climbed to the top of the hill again. All the way back, Maidawatched the sleds whizzing down the coast, boys alone on sleds, girls alone on sleds, pairs of girls, pairs of boys, one seated infront, the other steering with a foot that trailed behind on theice, timid little girls who did not dare the ice but contentedthemselves with sliding on the snow at either side, daring littleboys who went down lying flat on their sleds. 

At the top they were besieged with entreaties to go on thedouble-runner and, as there was room enough for one more, they took alittle boy or girl with them each time. Rosie lent her sled to thosewho had none. At first there were plenty of these, standing at thetop of the coast, wistfully watching the fun of more fortunatechildren. But after a while it was discovered that the ice was sosmooth that almost anything could be used for coasting. The sledlessones rushed home and reappeared with all kinds of things. One littlelad went down on a shovel and his intrepid little sister followed ona broom. Boxes and shingles and even dish-pans began to appear. Mostreckless of all, one big fellow slid down on his two feet, landingin a heap in the snow. 

Maida enjoyed every moment of it—even the long walks back up thehill. Once the double-runner struck into a riderless sled that haddrifted on to the course, and was overturned immediately. Nobody washurt. Rosie, Dicky and Arthur were cast safely to one side in thesoft snow. But Maida and Billy were thrown, whirling, on to the ice. Billy kept his grip on Maida and they shot down the hill, turninground and round and round. At first Maida was a little frightened. But when she saw that they were perfectly safe, that Billy wasmaking her spin about in that ridiculous fashion, she laughed sohard 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 camefour one-session days in a single week. It seemed as if Jack Frostwere on the side of the children. He would send violent flurries ofsnow just before the one-session bell rang but as soon as thechildren were safely on the street, the sun would come out bright assummer. 

Every morning when Maida woke up, she would say to herself, “Iwonder how Mr. Chumpleigh is to-day. ” Then she would run over to thewindow to see. 

Mr. Chumpleigh had become a great favorite in the neighborhood. Hewas so tall that his round, happy face with its eternal orange-peelgrin could look straight over the fence to the street. Thepassers-by used to stop, paralyzed by the vision. But after studyingthe phenomenon, they would go laughing on their way. Occasionally abad boy would shy a snow-ball at the smiling countenance but Mr. Chumpleigh was so hard-headed that nothing seemed to hurt him. Inthe course of time, the “stove-pipe” became very battered and, asthe result of continued storms, one eye sank down to the middle ofhis cheek. But in spite of these injuries, he continued to maintainhis 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 oneday. “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 mostmelancholy 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 spreadout before her. The weather had turned cold in the night. Everythingthat had started to melt had frozen up again. The sidewalks wereliked frosted cakes. Long icicles made pretty fringes around theroofs of the houses. The trees and bushes were glazed by a sheathingof crystal. The sunlight playing through all this turned the worldinto a heap of diamonds. 

Mr. Chumpleigh had perked up under the influence of the cold. Hismanner 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 stuckhis pipe between them. He looked quite himself. 

But, alas, the sun came out and melted the whole world. Thesidewalks trickled streams. The icicles dripped away in showers ofdiamonds. The trees lost their crystal sheathing. 

In the afternoon, Mr. Chumpleigh began to droop. By night his headwas resting disconsolately on his own shoulder. When Maida lookedout the next morning, there was nothing in the corner but a mound ofsnow. An old coat lay to one side. Strewn about were a hat, a pairof 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. Thelettering was red and gold. In one corner, he painted a picture of alittle boy and girl in their nightgowns peeking up a chimney-placehung with stockings. In the other corner, the full-moon face of aSanta Claus popped like a jolly jack-in-the-box from a chimney-top. A troop of reindeer, dragging a sleigh full of toys, scurriedthrough the printing. The whole thing was enclosed in a wreath ofholly. 

The sign attracted a great deal of attention. Children were alwaysstopping to admire it and even grown-people paused now and then. There was such a falling-off of Maida’s trade that she guessed thatthe children were really saving their pennies for the fair. Thisdelighted her. 

The W. M. N. T. ’s wasted no time that last week in spite of a veryenticing snowstorm. Maida, of course, had nothing to do on her ownaccount, but she worked with Dicky, morning and afternoon. 

Rosie could not make candy until the last two or three days for fearit would get stale. Then she set to like a little whirlwind. 

“My face is almost tanned from bending over the stove, ” she said toMaida; “Aunt Theresa says if I cook another batch of candy, I’llhave a crop of freckles. ”

Arthur seemed to work the hardest of all because his work was somuch more difficult. It took a great deal of time and strength andyet nobody could help him in it. The sound of his hammering cameinto Maida’s room early in the morning. It came in sometimes late atnight when, cuddling between her blankets, she thought what a happygirl she was. 

“I niver saw such foine, busy little folks, ” Granny said approvinglyagain and again. “It moinds me av me own Annie. Niver a moment butthat 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 youyet—he said he would. ”

Maida, herself, was giving, for the first time in her experience, agood deal of thought to Christmas time. 

In the first place, she had sent the following invitation to everychild in Primrose Court:

“Will you please come to my Christmas Tree to be given ChristmasNight in the ‘Little Shop. ’ Maida. ”

In the second place, she was spying on all her friends, listening totheir talk, watching them closely in work and play to find just theright thing to give them. 

“Do you know, I never made a Christmas present in my life, ” she saidone day to Rosie. 

“You never made a Christmas present?” Rosie repeated. 

Maida’s quick perception sensed in Rosie’s face an unspokenaccusation of selfishness. 

“It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, Rosie dear, ” Maida hastened toexplain. “It was because I was too sick. You see, I was always inbed. I was too weak to make anything and I could not go out and buypresents as other children did. But people used to give me theloveliest things. ”

“What did they give you?” Rosie asked curiously. 

“Oh, all kinds of things. Father’s given me an automobile and a pairof Shetland ponies and a family of twenty dolls and my weight insilver 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 yousuppose I know what I got for Christmas?” Maida’s eyes began toflash and her lips to tremble. 

“Well, now, Maida, just think of it, ” Rosie said in her mostreasonable voice. “Here you are a little girl just like anybody elseonly you’re running a shop. Now just as if you could afford to havean automobile! Why, my father knows a man who knows another man whobought an automobile and it cost nine hundred dollars. What didyours cost?”

“Two thousand dollars. ” Maida said this with a guilty air in spiteof 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 sayingsomething very saucy indeed. But she remembered in time. Of coursenobody in the neighborhood knew that she was “Buffalo” Westabrook’sdaughter. It was impossible for her to prove any of her statements. The flash died out of her eyes. But another flash came into hercheeks—the flash of dimples. 

“Well, perhaps I _did_ dream it, Rosie, ” she said archly. “But Idon’t think I did, ” she added in a quiet voice. 

Rosie turned the subject tactfully. “What are you going to give yourfather?” she asked. 

“That’s bothering me dreadfully, ” Maida sighed; “I can’t think ofanything 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 makeenough 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 alwayspuzzling the neighborhood with strange expressions. Then her browlightened. “My father goes to a barber, too, ” she said. “I’ve heardhim complaining lots of times how expensive it is. And the other dayArthur told me about a razor his father uses. He says it’s just likea lawn-mower or a carpet-sweeper. You don’t have to have anybodyshave you if you have one of them. You run it right over your faceand 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 justthe 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 aChristmas present in my life. And I’m not sure yet that I can getone. But if I do sell two dollars worth of candy, I can buysomething perfectly beautiful for both father and mother. ”

“Oh, Rosie, ” Maida asked breathlessly, “do you mean that yourmother’s come back?”

Rosie’s face changed. “Don’t you think I’d tell you that the firstthing? No, she hasn’t come back and they don’t say anything abouther coming back. But if she ever does come, I guess I’m going tohave 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 canshow you where to get the little razor. ”

“I’d love to. ” Maida beamed. And indeed, it seemed the mostfascinating prospect in the world to her. Every night after she wentto bed, she thought it over. She was really going to buy Christmaspresents without any grown-up person about to interfere. It wasrapture. 

The night before the fair, the children worked even harder than thenight before Halloween, for there were so many things to display. Itwas evident that the stock would overflow windows and shelves andshow 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 theshow cases where nobody can handle them. ”

They tugged the table into the shop and covered it with a beautifulold blue counter-pane. 

“That’s fine!” Arthur approved, unpacking his handicraft from thebushel-baskets in which he brought them. 

The others stood round admiring the treasures and helping him toarrange them prettily. A fleet of graceful little boats occupied oneend of the table, piles of bread-boards, rolling-pins and “cats, ”the other. In the center lay a bowl filled with tiny baskets, carvedfrom peach-stones. From the molding hung a fringe of hockey-sticks. 

Having arranged all Arthur’s things, the quartette filed upstairs tothe 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, pattingDicky’s thin cheek. 

They filled Arthur’s baskets and trooped back to the shop. Theylined show case and shelves with the glittering things—boxes, bigand little, gorgeously ornamented with stars and moons, caps of goldand silver, flying gay plumes, rainbow boats too beautiful to sailon anything but fairy seas, miniature jackets and trousers that onlya 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 prettythey were. ”

Dicky’s big eyes glowed with satisfaction. “Nor me neither, ” heconfessed. 

“And now, ” Maida said, bubbling over with suppressed importance, “Rosie’s candies—I’ve saved that until the last. ” She pulled out oneof the drawers under the show case and lifted it on to the counter. It was filled with candy-boxes of paper, prettily decorated withflower patterns on the outside, with fringes of lace paper on theinside. “I ordered these boxes for you, Rosie, ” she explained. “Iknew your candy would sell better if it was put up nicely. I thoughtthe little ones could be five-cent size, the middle-sized onesten-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 likeyou. ”

“Now we must pack them, ” Maida said. 

Four pairs of hands made light work of this. By nine o’clock all theboxes were filled and spread out temptingly in the show case. By aquarter past nine, three of the W. M. N. T. ’s were in bed trying hardto get to sleep. But Maida stayed up. The boxes were not her onlysurprise. 

After the others had gone, she and Granny worked for half an hour inthe little shop. 

The Saturday before Christmas dawned clear and fair. Rosie hallooedfor Dicky and Arthur as she came out of doors at half-past seven andall three arrived at the shop together. Their faces took on such acomic 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!” ButMaida found these exclamatives quite as expressive as Rosie’s hugs. And, indeed, she herself thought the place worthy of any degree ofadmiring enthusiasm. 

The shop was so strung with garlands of Christmas green that itlooked like a bower. Bunches of mistletoe and holly added theircolors to the holiday cheer. Red Christmas bells hung everywhere. 

“My goodness, I never passed such a day in my life, ” Maida said thatnight at dinner. She was telling it all to Granny, who had been awayon mysterious business of her own. “It’s been like a beehive hereever since eight o’clock this morning. If we’d each of us had anextra pair of hands at our knees and another at our waists, perhapswe could have begun to wait on all the people. ”

“Sure ’twas no more than you deserved for being such busy littlebees, ” Granny approved. 

“The only trouble was, ” Maida went on smilingly, “that they likedeverything so much that they could not decide which they wantedmost. Of course, the boys preferred Arthur’s carvings and the girlsRosie’s candy. But it was hard to say who liked Dicky’s things thebest. ”

Granny twinkled with delight. She had never told Maida, but she didnot need to tell her, that Dicky was her favorite. 

“And then the grown people who came, Granny! First Arthur’s fatheron his way to work, then Mrs. Lathrop and Laura—they bought loads ofthings, and Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Doyle and even Mr. Flanagan bought ahockey-stick. He said, ” Maida dimpled with delight, “he said hebought 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 supposefor?”

Granny had no idea. 

“To wind her wool on. Then Billy came at the last minute and boughteverything that was left. And just think, Granny, there was a crowdof little boys and girls who had stood about watching all daywithout any money to spend and Billy divided among them all thethings 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 dollarsand eighty-seven cents. Rosie made two dollars and seventy cents. ”

After dinner that night, Maida accompanied Rosie and Dicky on theChristmas-shopping expedition. 

They went first to a big dry goods store with Dicky. They helpedDicky to pick out a fur collar for his mother from a counter markedconspicuously $2. 98. The one they selected was of gray and brownfur. 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 roundbox safely under his arm. “Just think, I’ve been planning to do thisfor three years, ” he said, “and I never could have done it now if ithadn’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 theproprietor. The man stared hard before he showed them his stock. Buthe was very kind and explained to them exactly how the wonderfullittle machine worked. 

Maida noticed that Rosie examined very carefully all the thingsdisplayed in windows and on counters. But nothing she saw seemed tosatisfy 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 linkedtogether, the two little girls discussed everything that they saw. 

Suddenly, Rosie uttered a little cry of joy and stopped at ajeweler’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 shecould hang round her neck. ”

They went inside. “It’s just what I want, ” Rosie declared. “But Iwish 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 blackvelvet ribbon. Once my father gave my mother a beautiful diamondheart. Mother used to wear it on a black velvet ribbon. Afterwardspapa bought her a chain of diamonds. But she always liked the blackvelvet best and so did papa and so did I. Papa said it made her necklook whiter. ”

The other three children looked curiously at Maida when she said, “diamond heart. ” When she said, “string of diamonds, ” they looked ateach other. 

“Was that another of your dreams, Maida?” Rosie asked mischievously. 

“Dreams!” Maida repeated, firing up. But before she could sayanything that she would regret, the dimples came. “Perhaps it was adream, ” she said prettily. “But if it was, then everything’s adream. ”

“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 ribbonand strung the heart on it. She packed it neatly away in the glossybox in which the jeweler had done it up. 

“If my mama doesn’t come back to wear that heart, nobody else everwill, ” she said passionately. “Never—never—never—unless I have alittle 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 ofthe bell. Before she could collect her scattered wits, she heardRosie’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’srush 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 somethingwonderful to tell you. ”

But Maida had guessed it. 

“I know, ” she cried, as Rosie burst into the room. “Your mother’scome home. ”

“My mother’s come home, ” Rosie echoed. 

The two little girls seized each other and hopped around the room ina mad dance, Maida chanting in a deep sing-song, “Your mother’s comehome!” and Rosie screaming at the top of her lungs, “My mother’scome home!” After a few moments of this, they sank exhausted on thebed. 

“Tell me all about it, ” Maida gasped. “Begin at the very beginningand don’t leave anything out. ”

“Well, then, ” Rosie began, “I will. When I went to bed last nightafter leaving you, I got to thinking of my mother and pretty soon Iwas so sad that I nearly cried my eyes out. Well, after a long whileI got to sleep and I guess I must have been very tired, for I didn’twake up the way I do generally of my own accord. Aunt Theresa had towake me. She put on my best dress and did my hair this new way andeven let me put cologne on. I couldn’t think why, because I neverdress up until afternoons. Once when I looked at her, I saw therewere tears in her eyes and, oh, Maida, it made me feel somethingawful, for I thought she was going to tell me that my mother wasdead. When I came downstairs, my father hugged me and kissed me andsat with me while I ate my breakfast. Oh, I was so afraid he wasgoing to tell me that mother was dead! But he didn’t! After awhile, he said, ‘Your Christmas presents are all up in your mother’sbedroom, Rosie. ’ So I skipped up there. My father and Aunt Theresadidn’t come with me, but I noticed they stood downstairs andlistened. 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 queerthat 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 soundedas 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’tbreathe. 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 wideworld! His name is Edward. He’s only six weeks old and _he cansmile_. ”

“Smile, Rosie?”

“He can—I saw him—and sneeze!”

“Sneeze, Rosie?”

“That’s not all, ” said Rosie proudly. “He can wink his eyes anddouble up his fists—and—and—and a whole lot of things. There’s nodoubt that he’s a remarkable baby. My mother says so. And prettyas—oh, he’s prettier than any puppy I ever saw. He’s a little toopink in the face and he hasn’t much hair yet—there’s a funny spot inthe top of his head that goes up and down all the time that you haveto be dreadfully careful about. But he certainly is the loveliestbaby 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 rockhim 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 andSundays and wheel him out every day in his carriage. ”

“Rosie, ” Maida said impressively, “you ought to be the happiestlittle girl in the world. Think of having a baby brother for aChristmas 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 afterthe baby came to her—so sick that she couldn’t even take care ofhim. She said they were afraid she was going to die. But she’s allright now. Father bought her for Christmas a beautiful, long, red-silk dress that’s just to lie down in. She looks like a queenin it, and yet she looks like a little girl, too, for her hair is donein two braids. Her hair comes way down below her waist like yourmother’s hair. And when I gave her the little silver heart, she wasso pleased with it. She put it right on and it looked sweet. Shesaid she would much rather wear it on a black velvet ribbon than ona silver chain. ”

“Everything’s come out all right, hasn’t it?” Maida said withecstasy. 

“I guess it has. Now I must go. I want to be sure to be there whenthe 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—younever 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 whenBilly Potter suddenly came marching through the shop and into theliving-room. 

“Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” they all saidat once. 

“Granny, ” Billy asked immediately, “if you could have your choice ofall 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; “Icudn’t t’ink of a t’ing as long as Oi can’t have me little Annie widme. ”

Maida saw Billy’s eyes snap and sparkle at the word Annie. Shewondered 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 inastonishment at Billy. “Oh, Misther Billy, if you cud only foindher!” She gazed imploringly at him. Billy continued to smile at her, his eyes all “skrinkled up. ” Granny jumped to her feet. She seizedBilly’s arm. “Oh, Misther Billy, you _have_ found her, ” shequavered. 

Billy nodded. “I’ve found her, Granny! I told you I would and Ihave. Now don’t get excited. She’s all right and you’re all rightand everything’s all right. She’ll be here just as soon as you’reready to see her. ”

For a moment Maida was afraid Granny was going to faint, for shedropped back into her chair and her eyes filled with tears. But atBilly’s last words the old fire came back to her eyes, the color toher cheeks. “Oi want to see her at wance, ” she said with spirit. 

“Listen, ” Billy said. “Last night I happened to fall intoconversation with a young Irishman who had come to read thegas-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 itis that I went right over to see her, though it was late then. Ifound her a widow with two children. She nearly went crazy at theprospect of seeing her mother again, but we agreed that we must waituntil morning. We planned—oh, come in, Annie, ” he called suddenly. 

At his call, the shop door opened and shut. There was a rush of twopairs of feet through the shop. In the doorway appeared a youngwoman 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 beganto stream down her cheeks. 

Followed kissings and huggings by the dozen. Followed questions andanswers by the score. 

“And to t’ink you’ve been living forninst us all this time, ” Grannysaid after the excitement had died down. She was sitting on thecouch now, with Delia asleep in her lap, Mrs. Dore on one side andDicky on the other. “And sure, me own hearrt was telling me thetrut’ all the toime did Oi but listhen to ut—for ’twas loving thisfoine little lad ivry minut av the day. ” She patted Dicky’s head. “And me niver seeing the baby that had me own name!” She cuddledDelia close. “OI’m the happiest woman in the whole woide wurrld thisday. ”

It was arranged that the two families were to have Christmas dinnertogether. Dicky and Mrs. Dore hurried back for a few moments tobring their turkey to the feast. 

“Granny, will you love me just the same now that you’ve got Dickyand Delia?” Maida said wistfully. 

“Love you, my lamb? Sure, I’ll love you all the more for ’twast’rough you I met Misther Billy and t’rough Misther Billy I found meAnnie. Ah, Misther Billy, ’tis the grand man you make for such a b’ythat you are!”

“Yes, m’m, ” said Billy. 

When Mrs. Dore returned, mother and daughter went to work on thedinner, while Billy and Maida and Dicky trimmed the tree. When thedoor opened, they caught bits of conversation, Granny’s broguegrowing thicker and thicker in her excitement, and Mrs. Dorerelapsing, under its influence, into old-country speech. At suchtimes, Maida noticed that Billy’s eyes always “skrinkled up. ”

They were just putting the finishing touches to the tree when thewindow darkened suddenly. Maida looked up in surprise. And then, “Oh, my papa’s come!” she screamed; “my papa’s come to my Christmastree after all!”

There is so much to tell about the Christmas tree that I don’t knowwhere to begin. 

First of all came Laura and Harold. Mrs. Lathrop stopped with themfor 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 yourdaughter as Mrs. Flynn’s grandchild, Mr. Westabrook. But I guessedthe truth from the first. I believed, however, that you wished thematter kept a secret and I have said nothing of it to anybody. ”

“I thank you, madam, ” said “Buffalo” Westabrook, bending on her oneof his piercing scrutinies. “How ever the neighborhood accepted her, they have given her back her health. I can never be too grateful tothem. ”

Came Rosie next with a, “Oh, Maida, if you could only have seenEdward when my mother bathed him to-night!” Came Arthur, came theDoyles, came the Clark twins with Betsy tagging at their heels. Lastof all, to Maida’s great delight, came Dr. Pierce. 

Nobody was allowed to go into the shop where the tree stood untilthe last guest had arrived. But in spite of their impatience theyhad a gay half hour of waiting. Billy amused them with all kinds ofgames and tricks and jokes, and when he tired, Dr. Pierce, who soonbecame 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. Hetook a great fancy to the Clark twins and made all manner of fun forthe 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 yoube here on the couch, ” he would say to Mabel, “when there you are asplain 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. “Iguess Granny and Annie will have to let me take Dicky for a while. Afew months in my hospital and he’ll be jumping round here like afrog 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 coursewe can. He’s not in half so bad a condition as Maida was when westraightened 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 thanDicky?”

Everybody stared hard at Maida, seated on her father’s knee, and shedimpled and blushed under the observation. She was dressed all inwhite—white ribbons, white sash, white socks and shoes, the softest, filmiest white cobweb dress. Her hair streamed loose—a cascade ofdelicate, 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? Myfather’s a magician!”

But Dicky could not answer. He was gulping furiously to keep backthe tears of delight. But he smiled his radiant smile. Billy tookeverybody’s attention away from him by turning an unexpectedcartwheel in the middle of the floor. 

Finally, Maida announced that it was time for the tree. They formedin line and marched into the shop to a tune that Billy thumped outof 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 armsoutstretched, swung a beautiful Christmas angel. Hanging from itwere all kinds of glittery, quivery, sparkly things in silver andgold. Festooned about it were strings of pop corn and cranberries. At every branch-tip glistened a long glass icicle. And the wholething was ablaze with candles and veiled in a mist of gold andsilver. 

At the foot of the tree, groups of tiny figures in painted plastertold the whole Christmas Day story from the moment of the firstsight of the star by the shepherds who watched their flocks to thearrival, at the manger, of the Wise Men, bearing gold, frankincenseand myrrh. 

Billy Potter disappeared for a moment and came in, presently, themost chubby and pink-faced and blue-eyed of Santa Clauses, in purplevelvet trimmed with ermine, with long white hair and a long whitebeard. 

I can’t begin to name to you all the fruits of that magic tree. FromMaida, there came to Rosie a big golden cage with a pair of canarybirds, to Arthur a chest of wonderful tools, to Dicky a littlebookcase full of beautiful books, to Laura a collection of sashesand ribbons, to Harold a long train of cars. For Molly, Betsy andthe Clark twins came so many gifts that you could hardly count themall—dolls and dolls’ wardrobes, tiny doll-houses and tinierdoll-furniture. For Tim came a sled and bicycle. 

To Maida came a wonderful set of paper boxes from Dicky, a longnecklace of carved beads from Arthur, a beautiful blank-book, withall her candy recipes, beautifully written out, from Rosie, a warmlittle pair of knitted bed-shoes from Granny, a quaint, little, old-fashioned locket from Dr. Pierce—he said it had once belonged toanother little sick girl who died. 

From Billy came a book. Perhaps you can fancy how Maida jumped whenshe read “The Crystal Ball, ” by William Potter, on the cover. But Ido not think you can imagine how pleased she looked when inside sheread the printed dedication, “To Petronilla. ”

From her father came a beautiful miniature of her mother, painted onivory. The children crowded about her to see the beautiful face ofwhich Maida had told them so much. There was the mass of golden hairwhich she had described so proudly. There, too, was a heart-shapedpendant of diamonds, suspended from a black velvet ribbon tied closeto 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. Pierceand Billy and her father opened her gifts to them. 

She was afraid they would not understand. “They’re to save time, yousee, 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 andwith all the friends I have, nobody has ever thought to give me asafety 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 thefuture, ” 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 Veniceagain? 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 inthose woild counthries! You’ll have to take me wid you, MistherWestabrook—only—only—” She did not finish her sentence but her eyeswent 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 andwell enough to take care of herself now. And I think she’d betterbegin 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 littlepuzzled. 

“And did Maida’s mother have a gold brush with her initials indiamonds 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 bigas a cottage?” Laura asked. 

“Yes. ”

“And did she have a May-party last year that she invited over fourhundred children to?” Harold asked. 

“Yes. ”

“And did you give her her weight in silver dollars once?” Mabelasked. 

“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 ather 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 Sixin their private quarters, and the Big Six with their picnics, andtheir adventures with the Gypsies, is told in _Maida’s LittleHouse_. 

 THE END

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 THE CAROLYN WELLS BOOKS FOR GIRLS

Fresh, spirited stories that the modern small girl will take to herheart these well known books by a famous author have won animportant place in the field of juvenile fiction. 

 THE FAMOUS "PATTY" BOOKS

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 TWO LITTLE WOMEN SERIES

Two Little Women Two Little Women and Treasure House Two LittleWomen on a Holiday

 DORRANCE SERIES

The Dorrance Domain Dorrance Doings

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 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 popularseries for young girls. You’ll find her a charming travelingcompanion. Her good nature, her abounding interest in her friendsand surroundings, and her fascinating adventures both at home andabroad have endeared her to thousands all over the country. 

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 THE BEVERLY GRAY STORIES _by_ CLAIR BLANK

These stories, full of the fun and thrills of college life, with anexciting mystery in each, have unusual appeal for the modern girl. 

BEVERLY GRAY, FRESHMANBEVERLY GRAY, SOPHOMOREBEVERLY GRAY, JUNIORBEVERLY GRAY, SENIORBEVERLY GRAY’S CAREERBEVERLY GRAY ON A WORLD CRUISEBEVERLY GRAY IN THE ORIENTBEVERLY GRAY ON A TREASURE HUNTBEVERLY GRAY’S RETURNBEVERLY GRAY, REPORTERBEVERLY GRAY’S ROMANCE

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 MELODY LANE MYSTERY STORIES By LILIAN GARIS

Thrills, secrets, ghosts—adventures that will fascinate you seem tosurround pretty Carol Duncan. A vivid, plucky girl, her clevernessat 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. 

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 FAIRY TALES _and tales of wonder that are favorites of young people the world over_

ADVENTURES OF A BROWNIE Miss MulockANDERSEN’S FAIRY TALES Hans Christian AndersenAT THE BACK OF THE NORTH George MacDonaldWIND THE BLUE FAIRY BOOK Andrew LangENGLISH FAIRY TALES Joseph JacobsGRANNY’S WONDERFUL CHAIR Frances BrowneGRIMM’S FAIRY TALES The Brothers GrimmJAPANESE FAIRY TALES Yei Theadora OzakiTHE LITTLE LAME PRINCE Miss MulockPINOCCHIO C. CollodiTHE PRINCESS AND CURDIE George MacDonaldTHE PRINCESS AND THE GOBLIN George MacDonaldTHE RED FAIRY BOOK Andrew LangTHE WATER BABIES Charles Kingsley

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 GROSSET &. DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK