Maida's Little Shop

by Inez Haynes Gillmore

  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 things
to entertain Laura," Rosie said one night to Maida and Billy Potter."She's read all her books to her and played all her games with 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 manoeuvresfrom 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.