Maida's Little 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 gre
w 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 Francais un peu."

  "Say some more," Laura demanded.

  Maida smiled. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf,dix, onze, douze--"

  Laura looked impressed. "Do you speak any other language?"

  "Italian and German--a very little."

  Laura stared hard at her and her look was full of question. But 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.