Maida's Little Shop

by Inez Haynes Gillmore

  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 th
e 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."