Maida's Little Shop

by Inez Haynes Gillmore

  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 na
med 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.