Maida's Little Shop (Chapter 3 & 4)

Tonight you can relax and unwind to a couple of chapters of this heartwarming childhood storybook called 'Maida's Little Shop' by Inez Haynes Irwin. This sweet story is about a little girl named Maida who is sickly and lame. Her father is well known to be one of the wealthiest men in America. He decides to buy her a little shop in Charlestown Massachusetts, to give her a purpose and to help restore her health.

However, this little shop comes with one condition, it is that Maida does not tell anyone who she is or who her father is. For the first time in her life...Maida makes wonderful new friends because they think she is just an ordinary girl.

I hope you enjoy the super relaxing storytelling! May it bring you a peaceful night's rest!

Sweet dreams!

Transcript

Tonight I'll be reading chapter 2 from Meda's Little Shop.

Meda's Little Shop is the first book of the Meda Westerbrook series by Enos Haynes Erwin that features a little girl named Meda who is sickly and lame.

Meda is the daughter to Jerome Buffalo Westerbrook,

A well-known,

Successful Wall Street businessman.

He decides to buy Meda a little shop in Charleston,

Massachusetts to give her a purpose and to help improve her health.

But her father has only one condition,

That she not tell anyone who she is or who her father is.

And for the first time in her life,

Meda finds true happiness living in an ordinary neighborhood and making friends with ordinary children.

And so,

As always my friend,

Settling comfortably under the covers,

Take a full,

Comfortable breath,

And as you exhale,

Relax and let go.

Allow any tension to just melt away,

Letting your body sink deeper and deeper down into the softness of your bed.

There is nothing else to do and nowhere else to be.

So just lay back,

Relax,

And enjoy the story.

Chapter 3.

The First Day.

If you had gone into the little shop the next day,

You would have seen a very pretty picture.

First of all,

I think you would have noticed the little girl who sat behind the counter.

A little girl in a simple blue serge dress and a fresh white tire.

A little girl with shining,

Excited eyes and masses of pale gold hair clinging in tenderly rings about a thin,

Heart-shaped face.

A little girl who kept saying as she turned round and round in her swivel chair,

Oh,

Granny,

Do you think anybody's going to buy anything today?

Next I think you would have noticed an old woman who kept coming to the living room door.

An old woman in a black gown and a white apron so stiffly starched that it rattled when it touched anything.

An old woman with twinkling blue eyes and hair,

Enclosing,

As in a silver frame,

A little carved nut of a face.

An old woman who kept soothing the little girl with a cheery,

Now just you be patient,

My lamb,

Sure somebody'll be here soon.

The shop was unchanged since yesterday,

Except for a big bowl of asters,

Red,

White and blue.

Three cheers for the red,

White and blue Maida sang when she arranged 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 would have thought she had turned to stone.

But her eyes,

Glued to the moving 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 showcase,

His hat in his hand.

And all the time he looked Maida straight in the eye.

But you would have thought he 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 bite her lips to keep from laughing.

Yes,

She said,

When she had made her 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 liked so 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,

Little boy?

Billy's face twitched suddenly and his eyes crinkled up.

Maida saw with a mischievous delight that he,

In his turn,

Was trying to keep the laughter back.

Yes,

Mum,

He said,

Making his face quite serious again.

My teacher says I'm the best reader in the room.

He took up the little books and looked them over.

The three boars,

No,

Bears,

He corrected himself.

Puss in Boats,

No,

Boots.

Jack and the Beanskilt,

No,

Stock.

Jack the Joint Cooler,

No,

Giant killer.

Cinderella,

Bluebird,

No,

Blue beard.

Little Tootie Goo Shoes,

No,

Little Goody Two Shoes.

Tom Thumb,

The Sweeping Beauty,

The Babes in the Wood.

I guess I'll take these ten,

Mum.

He felt in all his pockets one after another.

After a long time,

He brought 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 in astonishment.

Was he really going for good?

Within a few minutes,

The little bell tinkled a second time,

And there stood Billy again.

Good morning,

Petranilla,

He said pleasantly,

As if he had not seen her before that morning.

How's business?

Fine,

Maida responded promptly.

I've just sold ten fairy books to the 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 you something.

He opened the bag he carried,

And took a box out from it.

Hold out your two hands,

It's heavy,

He warned.

In spite of his preparation,

The box nearly fell to the floor.

It was so much heavier than Maida expected.

What can be in it?

She cried excitedly.

She pulled the cover off,

Then murmured a little,

Oh,

Of delight.

The box was full,

Cram-jam-full of pennies.

Pennies so new that they looked like gold.

Pennies so many that they looked like a fortune.

Gracious,

What pretty money,

Maida exclaimed.

There must be a million here.

Five hundred,

Billy corrected her.

He put some tiny cylindrical rolls of paper on the counter.

Maida handled them curiously.

They too were heavy.

Open them,

Billy commanded.

Maida pulled the papers away from the tops.

Bright new dimes fell out of one.

Bright new nickels came from the other.

Oh,

I'm so glad to have nice clean money,

Maida said in a satisfied tone.

She emptied the money drawer and filled its pockets with the shining coins.

It was very kind of you to think of it,

Billy.

I know it will please the children.

The thought made her eyes sparkle.

The bell rang again.

Billy went out to talk with Granny,

Leaving Maida alone to cope with her first strange customer.

Again,

Her heart began to jump into her throat.

Her mouth felt dry on the inside.

She watched the door,

Fascinated.

On the threshold,

Two little girls were standing.

They were exactly of the same size.

They were dressed in exactly the same way.

Their faces were alike as two peas in a pod.

Maida saw at once that they were twins.

They had little round,

Chubby bodies bulging out of red sweaters.

Little round,

Chubby faces emerging from tall,

Peaky,

Red worsted caps.

They had big round eyes as expressionless as glass beads,

And big round golden curls as stiff as candles.

They stared so hard at Maida that she began to wonder nervously if her face were dirty.

Come in,

Little girls,

She called.

The little girls paddered over to the showcase and looked in.

But their big round eyes,

Instead of examining the candy,

Kept peering up through the glass top at Maida.

And Maida kept peering down through it at them.

I want to buy some candy for a cent,

One of them whispered in a timid little voice.

I want to buy some candy for a cent,

Too,

The other whispered in a voice 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 other asked.

They discussed everything in the one-cent case.

Always they talked in whispers,

And they continued to look more often at Maida than at the candy.

Have you anything,

Too,

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 or three moments they whispered together.

At one point it looked as if they would each buy a long stick of peppermint,

At another a paper of lozenges,

But they changed their minds a great many times,

And in the end Dorothy bought two large pickles and Mabel bought two large chocolates.

Maida saw them swapping their purchases as they went out.

The two pennies which the twins handed her were still moist from the hot little hands that had held them.

Maida dropped them into an empty pocket in the money drawer.

She felt as if she wanted to keep her first earnings forever.

It seemed to her that she had never seen such precious-looking money.

The gold eagles which her father had given her at Christmas and on her birthday did not seem half so valuable.

But she did not have much time to think of all this.

The bell rang again.

This time it was a boy.

A big fellow of about fourteen,

She guessed,

An untidy-looking boy with large intent black eyes.

A mass of black hair,

Which surely had not been combed,

Fell about a face that as certainly had not been washed that morning.

''Give me one of those blue tops in the window,

'' he said gruffly.

He did not add these words,

But his manner seemed to say,

And be quick about it.

He threw his money down on the counter so hard that one of 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 he expected her to cheat him.

Then he walked out.

It was getting towards school time.

Children seemed to spring up everywhere as if they grew out of the ground.

The quiet streets began to ring with the cries of boys playing tag,

Leapfrog,

And prisoner's base.

The little girls,

Much more quiet,

Squatted in groups on doorsteps or walked slowly up and down arm in arm.

But Maida had little time to watch this picture.

The bell was ringing every minute now.

Once there were six children in the little shop together.

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 for all kinds of things,

And sometimes she could not remember where she had put them.

When in answer to the school bell,

The long lines began to form at the big doorways.

Two round red spots were glowing in Maida's cheeks.

She drew an involuntary sigh of relief when she realized that she was going to have a chance to rest.

But first,

She counted the money she had taken in.

Thirty-seven cents.

It seemed a great deal to her.

For an hour more,

Nobody entered the shop.

Billy left in a little while for Boston.

Granny,

Crooning an old Irish song,

Busied herself upstairs in her bedroom.

Maida sat back in her chair,

Dreaming happily of her work.

Suddenly,

The bell tinkled,

Rousing her with a start.

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 who stood on the threshold was lame.

Maida would have known that he was sick even if she had not seen the crutches that held him up or the iron cage that confined one leg.

His face was as colorless as if it had been made of melted wax.

His forehead was lined almost as if he were old.

A tired expression in his eyes showed that he did not sleep like other children.

He must often suffer,

Too.

His mouth had a drawn look that Maida knew well.

The little boy moved slowly over to the counter.

It could hardly be said that he walked.

He seemed to swing between his crutches exactly as a pendulum swings in a tall clock.

Perhaps he saw the sympathy that ran from Maida's warm heart to her pale face.

For before he spoke,

He smiled.

And when he smiled,

You could not possibly think of him as sick or sad.

The corners of his mouth and the corners of his eyes seemed to fly up together.

It made your spirit sleep just to look 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 anybody had 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 turned hopefully.

Mrs.

Murdock always kept her tissue paper in that drawer there,

He said pointing.

Oh,

Yes,

I do remember,

Maida exclaimed.

She recalled now a few sheets of tissue paper that she had left there,

Not knowing what to do with them.

She pulled the drawer open.

There they were,

Neatly folded 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.

That's a stroke of luck I wasn't expecting.

He spread the half-dozen sheets out on the counter and ran through them.

He looked up into Maida's face as if he wanted to thank her but did not know how to put it.

Instead,

He stared about the shop.

Say,

He exclaimed,

You've made this door look grand.

You'd never know it for the same place.

And your sign's a crackerjack.

The praise,

The first she had had from outside,

Pleased Maida.

It emboldened 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 see she reproached herself inwardly,

Why he did not go to school.

No,

The boy said soberly.

I can't go yet.

Dr.

O'Brien says I can go next year,

He thinks.

I'm wild to go.

The other fellows hate school,

But I love it.

I suppose it's because I can't go that I want to.

But then,

I want to learn to read.

A fellow can have a good time anywhere if he knows how to read.

I can read some,

He added in a shamed tone,

But not much.

The trouble is,

I don't have anybody to listen and help with the hard words.

Oh,

Let me help you,

Maida cried.

I can read as easy as anything.

This was the second thing she regretted saying,

For when she came to think of it,

She could not see where she was going to have 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.

My mother works out and I have to do most of the housework and take care of the baby.

Pretty slow work on crutches,

You know.

Although it's easy enough getting round after you get the hang of it.

No,

I really don't have any time to fool until evenings.

Evenings,

Maida exclaimed electrically.

Why,

That's just the right time.

You see,

I'm pretty busy myself during the daytime at my business.

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 pity when they fell on the little lame boy.

The poor little Gassoon,

She murmured.

Granny,

Maida explained.

This little boy can't go to school because his mother works all day and he has to do the housework and take care of the baby too.

And he wants to learn to read because he thinks 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 my legs after I learned to read.

It had all poured out in an uninterrupted stream.

She had to stop here to get a breath.

Now,

Granny,

What I want you to do is to let me hear him read evenings until he learns how.

You see,

His mother comes home then and he can leave the baby with her.

Oh,

Do let me do it,

Granny.

I'm sure I could.

And I really think you ought to.

For I feel excused me for saying so,

Granny.

I don't think you can understand as well as 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,

Meda said decisively.

And Treasure Island.

And The Princes and the Goblins and The Princess and Curdie.

She reeled off the long list of her favorites.

In the meantime,

Granny was considering the matter.

Dr.

Pierce had said to her of Meda,

Let her do anything that she wants to do,

As long as it doesn't interfere with her eating and sleeping.

The main thing to do is to get her to want to do things.

What's your name,

My lad?

She asked.

Dickie Door,

Ma'am,

The boy answered respectfully.

Well,

I don't see why you shouldn't try,

She said to Meda.

A half an hour every evening after dinner.

We'll begin next week,

Monday,

Meda said eagerly.

You come over here right after dinner.

All right.

The little lame boy looked very happy,

But again,

He did not seem to know what to say.

Thank you,

Ma'am,

He brought out finally.

And you too,

Turning to Meda.

My name's Meda.

Thank you,

Meda,

The boy said.

With even a greater display of bashfulness,

He settled the crutches under his thin shoulders.

Oh,

Don't go yet,

Meda pleaded.

I want to ask you some questions.

Tell me the name of those dear little girls,

The twins.

Dickie Door smiled his radiant smile.

Their last name's Clark.

Say,

Ain't they dead ringers for each other?

I can't tell Dorothy from Mabel or Mabel from Dorothy.

I can't either,

Meda laughed.

It must be fun to be a twin,

To have any kind of a sister or brother.

Who's that big boy,

The one with the hair all hanging down on his face?

Oh,

That's Arthur Duncan,

Dickie's whole face shown.

He's a dandy.

He can lick any boy of his size in the neighborhood.

I bet he could lick any boy this size in the world.

I bet he could lick his weight in wildcats.

Meda's brow wrinkled.

I don't like him,

She said.

He's not polite.

Well,

I like him,

Dickie Door maintained stoutly.

He's the best friend I've got anywhere.

Arthur hasn't any mother,

And his father's gone all day.

He takes care of himself.

He comes over to my place a lot.

You'll like him when you know him.

The bell tinkling on his departure did not ring again till noon,

But Meda did not mind.

Granny,

She said after Dickie 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,

Meda watched the children pour out of the little schoolhouse and disappear in all directions.

At two,

She watched them reappear from all directions and pour into it again.

But between those hours,

She was so busy that she did not have time to eat her lunch until school began again.

After that,

She sat undisturbed for an hour.

In the middle of the afternoon,

The bell rang with an important sounding tinkle.

Immediately after,

The door shut with an important sounding slam.

The footsteps,

Clattering across the room to the showcase,

Had an important sounding tap.

And the little girl,

Who looked inquisitively across the counter at Meda,

Had decidedly an important manner.

She was not a pretty child.

Her skin was too pasty.

Her blue eyes too red.

She had beautiful braids of glossy brown hair that came below her waist,

And you would have noticed her at once because of the air with which she wore her clothes and because of a trick of holding her head very high.

Meda could see that she was dressed very much more expensively than the other children in the neighborhood.

Her dark blue coat was elaborate with straps and bright buttons.

Her pale blue beaver hat was covered with pale blue feathers.

She wore a gold ring with a turquoise in it,

A silver bracelet with a monogram on it,

A little gunmetal watch pinned to her coat with a gunmetal pin,

And a long string of blue beads from which dangled a locket.

Meda noticed all this decoration with envy,

For she herself was never permitted to wear jewelry.

Occasionally,

Granny would let her wear one string from a big box of bead necklaces,

Which Meda had bought in Venice.

How much is this candy?

The girl asked,

Pointing to one of the trays.

Meda told her.

Dear me,

Haven't you anything better than that?

Meda gave her all the prices.

I'm afraid there's nothing good enough here,

The little girl went on 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 we expected today didn't come.

The little girl likes to make people think that she has nicer things than anybody else,

Meda thought.

She started to speak.

If she had permitted herself to go on,

She would have said.

The candy in this shop is quite good enough for any little girl,

But I won't sell it to you anyway.

But instead,

She said as quietly as she could.

No,

I don't believe there's anything here that you'll care for,

But I'm sure you'll find lots of expensive candy on Main Street.

The little girl,

Evidently,

Was not expecting that answer.

She lingered,

Still looking into the showcase.

I guess I'll take five cents worth of peppermints,

She said finally.

Some of the importance had gone out of her voice.

Meda put the candy into a bag and handed it to her without speaking.

The girl bustled towards the door.

Halfway,

She stopped and came back.

My name is Laura Lathrop,

She said.

What's yours?

Meda.

Meda,

The girl repeated questioningly.

Meda?

Oh,

Yes,

I know.

Meda Flynn.

Where did you live before you came here?

Oh,

Lots of places.

But where,

Laura persisted.

Boston,

New York,

Newport,

Pride's Crossing,

Europe.

Oh,

My.

Have you been to Europe?

Laura's tone was a little incredulous.

I lived abroad a year.

Can you speak French?

Oui,

Mademoiselle,

Je parle français un peu.

Say some more,

Laura demanded.

Meda 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 at her hard,

And her look was full of question.

But it was evident that she decided to believe Meda.

I live in Primrose Court,

She said.

And now there was not a shadow of condescension left in her voice.

That large house at the back with the big lawn about it.

I'd like to have you come and play with me some afternoon.

I'm very busy most of the time,

Though.

I take music and fancy dancing.

Next winter,

I'm going to take up French.

I'll send you word some afternoon when I have time to play.

Thank you,

Meda said in her most civil voice.

Come and play with me sometime,

She added after a pause.

Oh,

My mother doesn't let me play in other children's houses,

Laura said arily.

Goodbye.

Goodbye,

Meda answered.

She waited until Laura had disappeared into the court.

Granny,

She called out.

A little girl's been here who I think is the hatefulest,

Horridest,

Disagreeable thing I ever saw in my life.

Why?

What did that child do?

Granny asked in surprise.

Do?

Meda repeated.

She did everything.

Why,

She,

She.

.

.

She interrupted herself to think hard a moment.

Well,

It's the strangest thing.

I can't tell you a thing she did,

Granny.

And yet,

All the time she was here,

I wanted to slap her.

There's many folks that way,

Said Granny.

The wisest way is to take no notice of it.

Take no notice of it,

Meda stormed.

It's just like not taking any notice of a bee when it's stinging you.

Meda was so angry that she walked into the living room without limping.

At four that afternoon,

When the children came out of school,

There was another flurry of trade.

Towards five,

It slackened.

Meda sat in her swivel chair and wistfully watched the scene in the court.

Little boys were playing top.

Little girls were jumping rope.

Once,

She saw a little girl in a scarlet cape come out of one of the yards.

On one shoulder perched a fluffy kitten.

Following her,

An Irish setter and a sky terrier.

Presently,

It grew dark and the children began to go indoors.

Meda lighted the gas and lost herself in Gulliver's travels.

The sound of voices attracted her attention after a while.

She turned in her chair.

Outside,

Staring into the window,

Stood a little boy and girl,

A ragged,

Dirty pair.

Their noses pressed so hard against the glass that they were flattened into round white circles.

They took no notice of Meda.

Dropping her eyes to her book,

She pretended to read.

I bonies that red top first,

Said the little boy in a piping voice.

He was a round,

Brown,

Pop-eyed,

Big-mouthed little creature.

Meda could not decide which he looked most like,

A frog or a brownie.

She christened him the Bogle at once.

I bonies that little pink doll with the curly hair first,

Said the girl.

She was a round,

Brown little creature too,

But pretty.

She had merry brown eyes and a merry little red and white smile.

Meda christened her the Robin.

I bonies that big agate second,

Said the Bogle.

I bonies that little table second,

Said the Robin.

I bonies that knife third,

Said the Bogle.

I bonies that little chair third,

Said the Robin.

Meda could not imagine what kind of game they were playing.

She went to the door.

Come in,

Children,

She called.

The children jumped and started to run away.

But they stopped a little way off,

Turned and stood as if they were not certain what to do.

Finally,

The Robin marched over to Meda's side and the Bogle followed.

Tell me about the game you were playing,

Meda said.

I never heard of it before.

That wasn't any game,

The Bogle said.

We were just bonying,

The Robin explained.

Didn't you ever bony anything?

No.

Why,

You bonies things in your store windows,

The Robin went on.

You always bony with somebody else.

You choose one thing for yours and they choose something else for theirs until everything in the window is all chosen up.

But of course,

They don't really belong to you.

You only play they do.

I see,

Meda said.

She went to the window and took out the red top and the little pink doll with curly hair.

Here,

These are the things you bonied first.

You may have them.

Oh,

Thank you,

Thank you,

Thank you,

The Robin exclaimed.

She kissed the little pink doll ecstatically,

Stopping now and then to look gratefully at Meda.

Thank you,

The Bogle echoed.

He did not look at Meda,

But he began at once to wind his top.

What's your name,

Meda asked.

Molly Doyle,

The Robin answered.

And this is my brother,

Timmy Doyle.

My name's Meda.

Come and see me again,

Molly.

And you too,

Timmy.

Of course I'll come,

Molly answered.

And I'm going to name my doll Meda.

Molly ran all the way home,

Her doll tightly clutched to her breast.

But Timmy stopped to spin his top six times,

Meda counted.

No more customers came that evening.

At six,

Meda closed and locked the shop.

After dinner,

She thought she would read one of her new books.

She settled herself in her little easy chair by the fire and opened to a story with a fascinating picture.

But the moment her eyes fell on the page,

It was the strangest thing.

A drowsiness as deep as a fairy's enchantment fell upon her.

She struggled with it for a while,

But she could not throw it off.

The next thing she knew,

Granny was helping her up the stairs,

Was undressing her,

Had later in her bed.

The next thing she was saying dreamily,

I made $1.

87 today.

If my papa ever gets into any more 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 was morning again.

CHAPTER FOUR THE SECOND DAY It had rained all that night,

But the second morning dawned the twinklingest kind of day.

It seemed to Medha that Mother Nature had washed a million tiny,

Fleecy white clouds and hung them out to dry in the crisp blue air.

Everything still dripped,

But the brilliant sunshine put a sparkle on the whole world.

Slates of old roofs glistened.

Brasses of old doors glittered.

Silver of old nameplates shone.

Curbstones,

Sidewalks,

Doorsteps glimmered and gleamed.

The wet ebony black trunks of the maples smoked as if they were a fire.

Their thick-leaved golden heads flared like burning torches.

Medha stood for a long time at the window,

Listening to a parrot who called at intervals from somewhere in the neighborhood.

Get up,

You sleepyheads!

Get up!

Get up!

A huge puddle stretched across Primrose Court.

When Medha took her place in the swivel chair,

Three children had begun already to float shingles across its muddy expanse.

Two of them were Molly and Tim Doyle,

The third a little girl who Medha did not know.

For a time,

She watched them,

Fascinated.

But,

Presently,

The schoolchildren crowding into the shop took all her attention.

After the bell rang and the neighborhood had become quiet again,

She resumed her watch of the mud puddle fun.

Now they were loading their shingles with leaves,

Twigs,

Pebbles,

Anything that they could find in the gutters.

As they trotted in the wake of their frail craft,

They managed to sail them from one end of the puddle to the other.

Medha followed the progress of these merchant vessels as breathlessly as their owners.

Some capsized utterly.

Others started to founder and had to be dragged ashore.

A few brought the cruise to a triumphant finish.

But Tim soon put an end to this fun.

Unexpectedly,

His foot caught somewhere and he sprawled headlong in the tide.

Oh,

Tim,

Molly said.

But she said it without surprise or anger.

And Tim lay flat on his stomach without moving,

As if it were a common occurrence with him.

Molly waited out to him,

Picked him up,

And marched him into the house.

The other little girl had disappeared.

Suddenly,

She came out of one of the yards,

Clasping a teddy bear and a whole family of dolls in her fat arms.

She sat down at the puddle's edge and began to undress them.

Medha idly watched the busy little fingers.

One,

Two,

Three,

Four,

Five.

Now there were six shivering babies.

What was she going to do with them?

Medha wondered.

Granny,

Medha called,

Do come and see this little girl.

She's… But Medha did not finish that sentence in words.

It ended in a scream.

For suddenly,

The little girl threw the teddy bear and all the six dolls into the puddle.

Medha ran out the door.

Halfway across the court,

She met Dickie Door swinging through the water.

Between them,

They fished all the dolls out.

One was of celluloid and another of rubber.

They had floated into the middle of the pond.

Two china babies had sunk to the very bottom.

Their white faces smiled placidly up through the water at their rescuers.

A little rag doll lay close to the shore,

Waterlogged.

A pretty paper doll had melted into a pulp.

And the biggest and prettiest of them,

A lovely blonde creature with a shapely jointed body and a bisque head covered with golden curls,

Looked hopelessly bedraggled.

Oh,

Betsy Hale,

Dickie said.

You naughty,

Naughty girl.

How could you drown your own children like that?

I were giving them a bath,

Betsy explained.

Betsy was a little round butterball of a girl with grape-brown eyes all tangled up in eyelashes and a little pink rosebud of a mouth folded over two rows of mice teeth.

She smiled deliciously up into Maeda's face.

I aren't naughty,

Is I?

She asked.

Naughty?

You bunny duck,

Of course you are,

Maeda said,

Giving her a bear hug.

I don't see how anybody can scold her,

She whispered to Dickie.

Scold her?

You can't,

Dickie said disgustedly.

She's too cute.

And then if you did scold her,

It wouldn't do any good.

She's the naughtiest baby in the neighborhood,

Although,

He added with pride,

I think Delia's gonna be pretty nearly as naughty when she gets big enough.

But Betsy Hale,

Why,

The whole street has to keep an eye on her.

Come pick up your dollies,

Betsy,

He wheedled.

They'll get cold if you leave them out here.

The thought of danger to her darlings produced immediate activity on Betsy's part.

She gathered the dolls under her cape,

Hugging them close.

Her must put her dollies to bed,

She said wisely.

Calls herself her half the time,

Dickie explained.

He gathered up the dresses,

And shooing Betsy ahead of him,

Followed her into the yard.

She's the greatest child I ever saw,

He said,

Rejoining Maeda a little later.

The things she thinks of to do.

Why,

The other day,

Miss Allison,

The sister of the blind lady what sits in the window and knits,

The one what owns the parrot.

Well,

Miss Allison painted one of her old chairs red,

And put it out in the yard to dry.

Then she washed a whole lot of lace and put that out to dry.

Next thing she knew,

She looked out,

And there was Betsy,

Washing all the red paint off the chair with the lace.

You'd have thought that that would have been enough for one day,

Wouldn't you?

Well,

That afternoon,

She turned the hose on Mr.

Flanagan,

That's the policeman on the beat.

What did he say,

Maeda asked in alarm.

She had a vague imaginary picture of Betsy being dragged to the station house.

Roared,

But then Mr.

Flanagan thinks Betsy's all right.

Always calls her Sophie Sparkles.

Betsy runs away about twice a week.

Mr.

Flanagan's always finding her and lugging her home.

I guess every policeman in Charleston knows her by this time.

There,

Look at her now.

Did you ever see such a kid?

Betsy had come out of the yard again.

She was carrying a huge feather duster over her head as if it were a parasol.

The darling,

Maeda said joyously.

I hope she'll do something naughty every day.

Strange how you love a naughty child,

Dick said musingly.

They're an awful lot of trouble,

But you can't help liking them.

Has Tim Doyle fallen in the puddle yet?

Yes,

Just a little while ago.

He's always falling in mud puddles.

I guess if Molly fishes him out once after a rain,

She does a half a dozen times.

Do come and see me,

Dickie,

Won't you?

Maeda asked when they got to the shop door.

You know I shall be lonely when all the children are in school.

And then besides,

You're the first friend I've made.

At the word friend,

Dickie's beautiful smile shone bright.

Sure,

I'll come,

He said heartily.

I'll come often.

Granny,

Maeda exclaimed,

Bursting into the kitchen.

Wait until you hear about Betsy Hale.

She told the whole story.

Was I ever a naughty little girl,

She concluded.

Naughty?

Glory be,

And what's ailing you?

You were the best child this side of heaven,

That you were.

Always so sick,

And yet never a crossword out of you.

A shadow fell over Maeda's face.

Oh,

Dear,

Dear,

She grieved.

I wish I had been a naughty child.

People love naughty children so.

Are you quite sure I was always good,

Granny?

You were too sick to be naughty.

You could hardly lift one little hand from the bed.

But Granny,

Dear,

Maeda persisted.

Can't you think of one single naughty thing I did?

I'm sure you can if you try hard.

Maeda's face was touched with a kind of a sad wistfulness.

Granny looked down at her,

Considerably puzzled.

Then,

A light seemed to break in her mind.

It shone through her blue eyes and twinkled in her smile.

Sure,

I remember once when I was giving you some medicine,

And you were mad for having to take that stuff,

That you sat up in bed and knocked every bottle off the table.

Every one.

We picked up glass for a whole week after.

Maeda's wistful look vanished in a peal of silvery laughter.

Did I really,

Granny?

She asked in delight.

Did I break every bottle?

Are you sure?

Every one?

Every one,

Said Granny with a smile.

Maeda 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.

Dickie,

Molly,

Tim,

Betsy and Laura,

Though I don't call her quite a friend yet.

Pretty good for so soon.

Maeda was to make a sixth friend,

Although not quite so quickly.

It began that noontime with a strange little scene that acted itself out in front of Maeda's window.

The children had begun to gather for school,

Although it was still very quiet.

Suddenly,

Around the corner came a wild hullabaloo.

The shouts of small boys,

The yelp of a dog,

The rattle and clang of tin dragged on the brick sidewalk.

In another instant,

Appeared a dog,

A small,

Yellow,

Cur,

Collarless and forlorn looking with a string of tin cans tied to his tail,

A horde of small boys yelling after him and pelting him with stones.

Maeda started up,

But before she could get to the door,

Something flashed like a scarlet comet from across the street.

It was the little girl whom Maeda had seen twice before,

The one who always wore the scarlet cape.

Even in the excitement,

Maeda noticed how handsome she was.

She seemed proud.

She carried her slender,

Erect little body as if she were a princess,

And her big eyes cast flashing glances about her.

Jet black were her eyes and hair,

Milk white were her teeth,

But in the olive of her cheeks,

Flamed a red such as could be matched only in the deepest roses.

Maeda christened her Rose Red at once.

Rose Red lifted the little dog into her arms with a single swoop of her strong arm.

She yanked the cans from its tail with a single indignant 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 wicked cans to your poor little tail?

And then,

If ever I catch one of you boys treating a poor helpless animal like this again,

I'll shake the breath out of your body.

Isn't he the most beautiful dog that ever was?

And if that isn't enough,

Arthur Duncan will lick you all,

Won't you,

Arthur?

She turned pleadingly to Arthur.

Arthur nodded.

Nobody's going to hurt helpless creatures while I'm about.

He was a sweet little,

Precious little,

Pretty little puppy,

So he was.

Rose Red marched into the court with the puppy,

Opened a gate,

And dropped 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?

Maeda asked Dorothy 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 my momma won't let me play with her,

Dorothy added.

Why not?

Maeda asked.

She's a tomboy,

Mabel informed her.

What's a tomboy?

Maeda asked Billy that night at dinner.

A tomboy?

Billy repeated.

A tomboy is a girl who acts like a boy.

How can a girl be a boy?

Maeda queried after a few moments of thought.

Why don't they call her a tomgirl?

Why,

Indeed,

Billy answered,

Taking up the dictionary.

Certainly,

Rosie Brine acted like a boy.

Maeda proved that to herself in the next few days when she watched Rose Red again and again.

But if she were a tomboy,

She was also,

Maeda decided,

The most beautiful and the most wonderful little girl in the world.

And,

Indeed,

Rosie was so full of energy,

That it seemed to spurt out in the continual sparkle of her face and the continual movement of her body.

She never walked.

She always crossed the street in a series of flying jumps.

She never went through a gate if she could go over the fence.

Never climbed the fence if she could vault it.

The scarlet cape was always flashing up trees,

Over sheds,

Sometimes to the very roofs of the houses.

Her principal diversion seemed to be climbing lampposts.

Maeda watched this proceeding with envy.

One athletic leap,

And Rose Red was clasping the iron column halfway up.

A few more,

And she was swinging from the bars under the lantern.

But she was accomplished in other ways.

She could spin tops,

Play cat and shinny,

As well as any of the boys.

And as for jumping rope,

If two little girls would swing for her,

Rosie could actually waltz in the rope.

The strangest thing about Rosie was that she did not always go to school like the other children.

The incident of the dog happened on Thursday.

Friday morning,

When the children filed into the schoolhouse,

Rosie did not follow them.

Instead,

She hid herself in a doorway until after the bell rang.

A little later,

She sneaked out of her hiding place,

Joined Arthur Duncan at the corner,

And disappeared in the distance.

Just before twelve,

They both came back.

For a few moments,

They kept well concealed on a side street,

Out of sight of Primrose Court.

But at intervals,

Rosie or Arthur would dart out to a spot where,

Without being seen,

They could get a glimpse of the church clock.

When the children came out of school at twelve,

They joined the crowd and sauntered home.

Monday morning,

Maeda saw them repeat these maneuvers.

She was completely mystified by them,

And yet,

She had an uncomfortable feeling.

They were so stealthy that she could not help guessing that something underhand was going on.

Do you know Rosie Brine,

Maeda asked Dickey Dorr one evening when they were reading together?

Sure,

Dickey's face lighted up.

Isn't she a peach?

They say she's a tomboy,

Maeda objected.

Is she?

Surest thing you know,

Dickey said cheerfully.

She won't take a dare.

You ought to see her playing stumps.

There's nothing a boy can do that she won't do.

And have you noticed how she can spin a top?

The best I ever saw for a girl.

The best I ever saw for a girl.

Then boys liked girls to be tomboys.

This was a great surprise.

How does it happen that she doesn't go to school often?

Dickey grinned.

Hooking Jack.

Hooking Jack?

Maeda repeated in a puzzled tone.

Hooking Jack.

Playing hooky.

Dickey watched Maeda's face,

But her expression was still puzzled.

Pretending to go to school and not going,

He said at last.

Oh,

Maeda said.

I understand now.

She just hates school,

Dickey went on.

They can't make her go.

Old Stoopendale,

The truant officer,

Is always after her.

Little she cares for old Stoopy though.

She gets fierce beatings for it at home too.

Funny thing about Rosie,

She won't tell a lie.

And when her mother asks her about it,

She always tells the truth.

Sometimes,

Her mother will go to the schoolhouse door with her every morning and afternoon for a week.

But the moment she stops,

Rosie begins the Hook Jack again.

Mercy me,

Maeda said.

In all her short life,

She had never heard anything like this.

She was convinced that Rosie Brine was a very naughty little girl.

And yet,

Underneath this conviction,

Burned an admiration for her.

She must be very brave,

She said soberly.

Brave?

Well,

I guess you'd think so.

Arthur Duncan says she's braver than a lot of boys,

He knows.

Arthur and she Hook Jack together sometimes.

Arthur and she Hook Jack together sometimes.

And 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.

Once they walked all the way to Franklin Park.

And in the summer,

They often walk down to Crescent Beach.

They say when I get well,

I can go with them.

Dickie spoke in a wistful tone,

With which he always related the deeds of stronger children.

Maeda knew exactly how he felt.

She had been torn by the same hopes and despairs.

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've always wanted to do.

I'm going to do them all sometime,

Dickie prophesied.

Doc O'Brien says so.

I think Rosie,

The beautifullest little girl,

Maeda said.

I wish she'd come into the shop so that I could get acquainted with her.

Oh,

She'll come in sometime.

You see,

The WMNT is meeting now,

And we're all pretty busy.

She's the only girl in it.

The WMNT,

Maeda repeated.

What does that mean?

I can't tell you,

Dickie said regretfully.

It's the name of our club.

Rosie and Arthur and I are the only ones who belong.

After that talk,

Maeda watched Rosie Brine closer than ever.

If she caught a glimpse of the scarlet cape in the distance,

It was hard to go on working.

It was hard to go on working.

She noticed that Rosie seemed very fond of all helpless things.

She was always wheeling out the babies in the neighborhood,

Always feeding the doves and carrying her kitten about on her shoulder,

Always winning the hearts of other people's dogs,

And then trying to induce them not to follow her.

It seems strange that she never comes into the shop,

Maeda said mournfully to Dickie one day.

You see,

She never has any money to spend,

Dickie explained.

That's the way her mother punishes her.

But sometimes she earns it on the sly taking care of babies.

She loves babies,

And babies always love her.

Delia'll go to her from my mother anytime,

And as for Betsy Hale,

Rosie's the only one who can do anything with her.

But a whole week passed,

And then one day,

To Maeda'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 the counter with the usual proud swing of her body.

Seeing closer,

She was even prettier than at a distance.

Her smooth olive skin glistened like satin.

Her lips showed roses even more brilliant than those that bloomed in her cheeks.

A frown between her eyebrows gave her face almost a sullen look,

But to offset this,

Her white teeth turned her smile into a flash of light.

Maeda lifted all the 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 dash forward of her whole arm,

She threw the top to the floor.

It danced there,

Humming like a whole hive full of bees.

Oh,

How lovely,

Maeda exclaimed.

Then,

In fervent admiration,

What a wonderful girl you are,

Rosie smiled.

Easy as pie if you know how.

Wanna learn?

Oh,

Will you teach me?

Sure,

Begin now.

Maeda limped from behind the counter.

Rosie watched her.

Rosie's face softened with the same pity that had shown on the frightened little dog.

She's sorry for me,

Maeda thought.

But Rosie said nothing about Maeda's limp.

She explained the process of top spinning from end to end,

Step by step,

Making Maeda copy everything that she did.

At first,

Maeda was too eager,

Her hands actually trembled.

But gradually,

She gained in confidence,

And at last,

She succeeded in making one top spin feebly.

Now you've got the hang of it,

Rosie encouraged her.

You'll soon learn.

All you want to do is to practice.

I'll come tomorrow and see how you're getting on.

Oh,

Do,

Maeda begged,

And come to see me in the evening sometime.

Come this evening if your mother will let you.

Rosie laughed scornfully.

I guess nobody's got anything to say about letting me if I make up my mind to come.

Well,

Goodbye.

She whirled out of the shop,

And soon the scarlet cape was a brilliant spot in the distance.

But about seven that evening,

The bell rang.

When Maeda opened the door,

There stood Rosie.

Oh,

Rosie,

Maeda said joyfully,

Throwing her arms about her guest.

How glad I am to see you.

She hurried her into the living room,

Where Billy Potter was talking with Granny.

This is Rosie Brine,

Billy,

She said,

Her voice full of pride in her new friend.

And this is Billy Potter,

Rosie.

Billy shook hands gravely with the little girl,

And Rosie looked at him in open wonder.

Maeda knew exactly what she was thinking.

Rosie was trying to make up her mind whether he was a boy or a man.

The problem seemed to grow more perplexing as the evening went on.

For part of the time,

Billy played with them,

Sitting on the floor like a boy,

And part of the time,

He talked with Granny,

Sitting in a chair like a man.

Maeda showed Rosie her books,

Her Venetian beads,

All her cherished possessions.

Rosie liked the canaries better than anything.

Just think of having six,

She said.

Then,

Sitting upstairs in Maeda's bedroom,

The two little girls had a long,

Confidential talk.

I've been just crazy to know you,

Maeda,

Rosie confessed.

But there was no way of getting acquainted,

For you always stayed in the store.

I had to wait until I could tease my mother to buy me a top.

That's funny,

Maeda said,

For I was just wild to know you.

I kept hoping that you'd come in.

I hope you'll come often,

Rosie,

For I don't know any other girl of my own age.

You know Laura Lathrop,

Don't you?

Rosie asked with a sideways look.

Yes,

But I don't like her.

Nobody likes her,

Rosie said.

She's too much of a smarty-cat.

She loves to get people over there and then show off before them.

And then she puts up so many airs.

I won't have anything to do with her.

From the open window came the shrill scream of Miss Allison's parrot.

What do you think of that?

It called over and over again.

Isn't that a clever bird?

Rosie asked admiringly.

His name is Tony.

I have lots of fun with him.

Did you ever see a parrot that could 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,

Tais-a-vous,

So much that sometimes we would have to put a cover over the cage to stop him.

And did you have other animals besides parrots?

Rosie asked.

I love animals.

Oh yes,

We had horses and dogs and cats and rabbits and dancing mice and marmosets and macaws and parakeets.

And I guess I've forgotten some of them.

But if you like animals,

You ought to go to our place in the Adirondacks.

There are deer preserves there,

And pheasants and peacocks.

Who do they belong to?

My father.

Rosie considered this.

Does he keep a bird place?

She asked in a puzzled tone.

No,

Maida's tone was a little puzzled too.

She did not know what a bird 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 eyes dancing 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 went to your house.

She sent me to bed for being naughty,

And I got up and dressed and climbed out of my window onto the shed without anybody knowing it.

She'll never know the difference.

Oh,

Rosie,

Maida said in a horrified tone.

Please never do it again.

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,

And watched her disappear through the window.

But she grieved over the matter as she walked home.

Perhaps it was because she was thinking so deeply Perhaps it was because she was thinking so deeply that she did not notice how quiet they 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,

She whispered,

Cuddling her face against his.

How glad I am to see you.

He marched with her over to the light.

Well,

Little shopkeeper,

He said after a long pause in which he studied her keenly.

You're beginning to look like a real life girl.

He dropped her gently to her feet.

Now,

Show me your shop.

Sweet dreams,

My friend.

Sleep well.

Reviews

I love this story! At least what I heard of it. 😊😊
Thank you!