Maida's Little Shop (Chapter 9 & 10)

For tonight's bedtime storytelling, I will be reading Chapters 9 & 10 from the Maida Book Series called Maida’s Little Shop.

This gentle story by Inez Haynes Irwin was published in 1909 and is about a sweet 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, he has one condition, that she not tell anyone who she is or who her father is. And 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 this charming bedtime story and I wish you a peaceful night's rest!
Sweet dreamzzz....

Transcript

Tonight I will be reading from the Maida book series by Enos Haynes Irwin published in 1909.

The story is about a sweet little girl named Maida who is sickly and lame.

Her father is well known to be one of the most wealthiest men in America.

He decides to buy her a little shop in Charleston,

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

However,

He has one condition that she not tell anyone who she is or who her father is.

And for the first time in her life,

Maida makes wonderful new friends because they think she's just an ordinary girl.

And so,

As always,

My friend.

Settling comfortably under the covers.

Take a slow,

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 left to do and nowhere else to be.

So just lay back,

Relax,

And enjoy the story.

Chapter 9,

Work It was still raining when Maida got up the next day.

It rained all the morning.

She listened carefully,

At a quarter to twelve,

For the one-session bell,

But it did not ring.

Just before school began in the afternoon,

Rosie came into the shop.

Maida saw at once that something had happened to her.

Rosie's face looked strange,

And she dragged across the room instead of pattering with her usual quick light step.

What do you think's happened,

Maida?

Rosie asked.

I don't know.

Oh,

What?

Maida asked,

Affrighted.

When I came home from school this noon,

Mother wasn't there.

But Aunt Teresa was there.

She'd cooked the dinner.

She said that Mother had gone away for a visit,

And that she wouldn't be back for some time.

She said she was going to keep house for Father and me while Mother was gone.

I feel dreadfully homesick and lonesome without Mother.

Oh,

Rosie,

I'm sorry,

Maida said.

But perhaps your mother won't stay long.

Do you like your Aunt Teresa?

Oh,

Yes,

I like her.

But of course,

She isn't Mother.

No,

Of course.

Nobody's like your mother.

Oh,

Yes,

There's something else I had to tell you.

The WMNTs are going to meet at Dickie's after school this afternoon.

Be sure to come,

Maida.

Of course I'll come,

Maida's whole face sparkled.

That is,

If Granny doesn't think it's too wet.

Rosie lingered for a few moments,

But she did not seem like her usual happy-go-lucky self.

And when she left,

Maida noticed that instead of running across the street,

She actually walked.

All the morning long,

Maida talked of nothing to Granny but the prospective meeting of the WMNTs.

Just think,

Granny,

I've never belonged to a club before,

She said again and again.

Very early,

She had put out on her bed the clothes that she intended to wear.

A tan-brown serge of which she was particularly fond,

And her favorite tire of a delicate soft lawn.

She kept rushing to the window to study the sky.

It continued to look like the inside of a dull tin cup.

She would not have eaten any lunch at all if Granny had not told her that she must.

And her heart sank steadily all the afternoon,

For the rain continued to come down.

I don't suppose I can go,

Granny,

She faltered when the clock struck four.

Sure you can,

Granny responded briskly.

But she wrapped Maida up,

As Maida herself said,

As if I was one of Papa's carved crystals come all the way from China.

First Granny put on a sweater,

Then a coat,

Then overall a raincoat.

She put a hood on her head and a veil over that.

She made her wear rubber boots and take an umbrella.

Maida got into a gale of laughter during the dressing.

I ought to be wrapped in excelsior now,

She said.

If I fall down in the puddle in the court,

Granny,

She threatened merrily,

I never can pick myself up.

I'll either have to roll and roll and roll until I get on to dry land,

Or I'll have to wait until somebody comes and shovels me out.

But she did not fall into the puddle.

She walked carefully along the edge,

And then ran as swiftly as her clothes and lameness would permit.

She arrived in Dickie's garret,

Red-cheeked and breathless.

Arthur and Rosie had already come.

Rosie was playing on the floor with Delia and the puppy that she had rescued from the tin can persecution.

Rosie was growling,

The dog was yelping,

And Delia was squealing,

But all three with delight.

Arthur and Dickie sat opposite each other,

Working at the round table.

What do you think of that dog now,

Meda?

Rosie asked proudly.

His name is Tag.

You wouldn't know him for the same dog,

Would you?

Isn't he a nice-looking little puppy?

Tag did look like another dog.

He wore a collar,

And his yellowy coat shone like satin.

His whole manner had changed.

He came running over to Meda,

And stood looking at her with the most spirited air in the world.

His head on one side,

One paw up,

And one ear cocked inquisitively.

His tail wriggled so fast that Delia,

Thinking it's some wonderful new toy,

Kept trying to catch it and hold it in her little fingers.

He's a lovely doggy,

Meda said.

I wish I'd brought Fluff.

And did you ever see such a dear baby,

Rosie went on,

Hugging Delia?

Oh,

If only I had a baby brother or sister.

She is a darling,

Meda agreed heartily.

Babies are so much more fun than dolls,

Don't you think so,

Rosie?

Dolls?

No words can express the contempt that was in Miss Brine's accent.

What are you doing,

Dickie?

Meda asked,

Limping over to the table.

Dickie said cheerfully.

On the table were piles of mysteriously looking objects made entirely of paper.

Some were of white paper,

And others of brown,

But they were all decorated with trimmings of colored tissue.

What are they?

Meda asked.

Aren't they lovely?

I never saw anything like them in my life.

Dickie blushed all over his face at this compliment,

But it was evident that he was delighted.

Well,

Those are paper boxes,

He said,

Pointing to the different piles of things,

And those are steamships.

Those are the old-fashioned kind,

With double smokestacks.

Those are double boats,

Jackets,

Pants,

Badges,

Nose-pinchers,

Lamplighters,

And fireman's caps and soldier's caps.

Oh,

That's why you buy all that colored paper,

Meda said in a tone of great satisfaction.

I've often wondered.

She examined Dickie's work carefully.

She could see that it was done with remarkable precision and skill.

Oh,

What fun to do things like that.

I do wish you'd show me how to make them,

Dickie.

I'm such a useless girl.

I can't make a single thing.

I'll show you,

Sure,

Dickie offered generously.

What are you making so many for?

Meda queried.

Well,

You see,

It's this way,

Dickie began in a businesslike air.

Arthie and Rosie and I are going to have a fair.

We've had a fair every spring and every fall for the last three years.

That's how we get our money for Christmas and the 4th of July.

Arthur whittles things out of wood.

He'll show you what he can do in a minute.

He's a crackerjack.

Rosie makes candy,

And I make these paper things.

And do you make much money,

Meda asked,

Deeply interested?

Don't make any money at all,

Dickie said.

The children pay us in nails.

I charge them 10 nails apiece for the easy things,

And 20 nails for the hardest.

Arthur can get more for his stuff because it's harder to do.

But what do you want nails for,

Meda asked in bewilderment?

Why,

Nails are junk.

And what's junk?

The three children stared at her.

Don't you know what junk is,

Meda?

Rosie asked in despair.

No.

Junk's old iron,

Dickie explained.

And you sell it to the junk man.

Once,

We made 40 cents out of one of these fairs.

One reason we're beginning so early this year.

I've got something very particular I want to buy my mother for a Christmas present.

Can you keep a secret,

Meda?

Meda nodded.

Well,

It's a fur collar for her neck.

They have them down in a store on Main Street every winter.

Two dollars and 98 cents.

It seems an awful lot,

But I've gotten over a dollar saved up,

And I guess I can do it if I work hard.

How much have you made ordinarily,

Meda asked thoughtfully.

Once,

We made 40 cents apiece,

But that's the most.

I tell you what you do,

Meda burst out impetuously.

After a moment of silence,

In which she considered the statement.

When the time comes for you to hold your fair,

I'll lend you my shop for a day.

I'll take all the things out of the window,

And I'll clean all the shelves off,

And you boys can put your things there.

I'll clear out the showcases for Rosie's candy.

Won't that be lovely?

She smiled happily.

It would be grand business for us,

Dickey said soberly,

But somehow it doesn't seem quite fair to you.

Oh,

Please don't think of that,

Meda said.

I just love to do it,

And you must teach me how to make things so I can help you.

You will take the shop,

Dickey,

She pleaded.

And you,

Rosie,

And Arthur?

She looked from one to the other with all her heart in her eyes.

But nobody spoke for a moment.

It seemed somehow as if we oughtn't to,

Dickey said awkwardly at last.

Meda's lip trembled.

At first,

She could not understand.

Here she was aching to do a kindness to these three friends of hers,

And they,

For some unknown reason,

Would not permit it.

It was not that they disliked her,

She knew.

What was it?

She tried to put herself in their place.

Suddenly,

It came to her what the difficulty was.

They did not want to be so much in her debt.

How could she prevent that?

She must let them do something for her that would lessen that debt.

But what?

She thought very hard.

In a flash,

It came to her.

A plan by which she could make it all right.

You see,

She began eagerly.

I wanted to ask you three to help me in something,

But I can't do it unless you let me help you.

Listen,

The next holiday is Halloween.

I want to decorate my shop with a lot of real jack-o'-lanterns cut from pumpkins.

It will be hard work,

And a lot of it,

And I was hoping that perhaps you'd help me with this.

The three faces lighted up.

Of course we will,

Dickey said heartily.

Gee,

I bet Dickey and I could make some great lanterns,

Arthur said reflectively.

And I'll help you fix up the store,

Rosie said with enthusiasm.

I just love to make things look pretty.

It's a bargain then,

Mayda said.

And now,

You must teach me how to help you this very afternoon,

Dickey.

They fell to work with a vim.

At least three of them did.

Rosie continued to frisk with Delia and tag on the floor.

Dickey started Mayda on the caps first.

He said that those were the easiest.

And,

Indeed,

She had very little trouble with anything until she came to the boxes.

She had to do her first box over and over again before it would come right,

But Dickey was very patient with her.

He kept telling her that she did better than most beginners,

Or she would have given up.

When she made her first good box,

Her face beamed with satisfaction.

Do you mind if I take it home,

Dickey,

She asked.

I'd like to show it to my father when he comes.

It's the first thing I ever made in my life.

Of course,

Dickey said.

Don't the other children ever try to copy your things,

Mayda asked.

They try to,

Arthur answered,

But they never do so well as Dickey.

You ought to see their nose pinchers,

Rosie laughed.

They can't stand up straight,

And their boxes and steam ships are the wobbliest things.

I'm going to get all kinds of stuff for things we make for the fair,

Mayda said reflectively.

Gold and silver paper,

And colored stars,

And pretty fancy pictures for trimmings.

You see,

If you're going to charge real money,

You must make them more beautiful than those for which you only charged nails.

That's right,

Dickey said.

By George,

That will be great.

You go ahead and buy whatever you think is right,

Mayda,

And I'll pay you for it from what we take in at the fair.

That's settled.

What do you whittle,

Arthur?

Oh,

All kinds of things.

Things I made up myself,

And things I learned how to do in Sloyd in school.

I make breadboards,

And rolling pins,

And shinny sticks,

And cats,

And little baskets out of cherry stones.

Jiminy crickets.

He's forgetting the boats,

Dickey burst in enthusiastically.

He makes the dandiest boats you ever saw in your life.

Mayda looked at Arthur in awe.

I never heard anything like it.

Can you make anything for girls?

Made me a set of the sweetest doll's furniture you ever saw in your life,

Rosie put in from the floor.

Say,

Did you get in any trouble last night?

Arthur turned suddenly to Rosie.

I forgot to ask you.

Arthur and Rosie hooked Jack yesterday in all that rowing.

Jack yesterday in all that rain,

Dickey explained to Mayda.

They knew a place where they could get a whole lot of old iron,

And they were afraid if they waited,

It would be gone.

I should say I did,

Rosie answered Arthur's question.

Somebody went and tattled to my mother.

Of course,

I was wet through to the skin,

And that gave the whole thing away anyway.

I got the worst scolding,

And mother sent me to bed without my supper.

But I climbed out of the window and went over to see Mayda.

I don't mind.

I hate school,

And as long as I live,

I shall never go except when I want to.

Never,

Never,

Never.

I guess I'm not going to be shut up studying when I'd rather be out in the open air.

Wouldn't you hook Jack if you wanted to,

Mayda?

Mayda did not reply for an instant.

She hated to have Rosie ask this question,

Point blank,

For she did not want to answer it.

If she said exactly what she thought,

There might be trouble,

And it seemed to her that she would do almost anything rather than lose Rosie's friendship.

But Mayda had been taught to believe that the truth is the most precious thing in the world,

And so she told the truth after a while,

But it was with great effort.

No,

I wouldn't,

She said.

Oh,

That's all right for you to say,

Rosie said,

Firing up.

You don't have to go to school.

You live the easiest life that anybody can,

Just sitting in a chair and tending shop all day.

What do you know about it anyway?

Mayda's lip quivered.

It is true,

I don't go to school,

Rosie,

She said.

But it isn't because I don't want to.

I'd give anything on earth if I could go.

I watch that line of children every morning and afternoon of my life,

And wish and wish and wish I was in it.

And when the windows are opened,

And I hear the singing and reading,

It seems as if I just couldn't stand it.

Oh,

Well,

Rosie's tone was still scornful.

I don't believe,

Even if you did go to school,

That you'd ever do anything bad.

You'd be anything but a frayed cat and teacher's pet.

I guess I'd be so glad to be there.

I'd do anything the teacher asked,

Mayda said dejectedly.

I do a lot of things that bother Granny,

But I guess I never have been a very naughty girl.

You can't be very naughty with your leg all crooked under you,

Mayda's voice had grown bitter.

The children looked at her in amazement.

But what's the use of talking to you two,

She went on.

You could never understand.

I guess Dickie knows what I mean,

Though.

To their great surprise,

Mayda put her head down on the table and cried.

For a moment,

The room was perfectly quiet.

The fire snapped,

And Dickie went over to look at it.

He stood with his back turned to the other children,

But a suspicious snuffle came from his direction.

Arthur Duncan walked to the window and stood looking out.

Rosie sat still,

Her eyes downcast,

Her little white teeth biting her red lips.

Then suddenly,

She jumped to her feet,

Ran like a whirlwind to Mayda's side.

She put her arms about the bowed figure.

Oh,

Do excuse me,

Mayda,

She begged.

I know,

I'm the worst girl in the world.

Everybody says so,

And I guess it's true.

But I do love you,

And I wouldn't have hurt your feelings for anything.

I don't believe you'd be afraid cat or teacher's pet.

I truly don't.

Please excuse me.

Mayda wiped her tears away.

Of course I'll excuse you.

But just the same,

Rosie.

I hope you won't hook Jack anymore,

For someday you'll be sorry.

I'm gonna make some candy now,

Rosie said,

Changing the subject.

I brought some molasses and butter and everything I need.

She began to bustle about the stove.

Soon,

They were all laughing again.

Mayda had never pulled candy before,

And she thought it the most enchanting fun in the world.

It was hard to keep at work,

Though,

When it was such a temptation to stop and eat it.

But she persevered,

And succeeded in pulling hers whiter than anybody's.

She laughed and talked so busily that,

When she started to put on her things,

All traces of tears had disappeared.

The rain had stopped.

The puddle was of monster size after so long a storm.

They came out just in time to help Molly fish Tim out of the water and to prevent Betsy from giving a stray kitten a bath.

Following Rosie and Arthur,

Mayda waded through it from one end to the other.

It seemed the most perilous of adventures to her.

After that meeting,

The WMNTs were busier than they'd ever been.

Every other afternoon,

And always when it was bad weather,

They worked at Mayda's house.

Granny gave Mayda a closet all to herself,

And as fast as the things were finished,

They were put in boxes and stowed away on its shelves.

Arthur whittled and carved industriously.

His work went slower than Dickie's,

Of course,

But still,

It went with remarkable quickness.

Mayda often stopped her own work on the paper things to watch Arthur's.

It was such a constant marvel to her that such big,

Awkward-looking hands could perform feats of such delicacy.

Her own fingers,

Small and delicate as they were,

Bungled surprisingly at times.

And as for the paste,

Mayda said in disgust to Rosie one day,

You'd think that I fell into the paste pot every day.

I wash it off my hands and face,

I pick it off my clothes,

And sometimes Granny combs it out of my hair.

Often after dinner,

The WMNTs would call in a body on Mayda,

Then would follow long hours of such fun that Mayda hated to hear the clock strike nine.

Always there would be molasses candy making by the capable Rosie at the kitchen stove,

And corn popping by the vigorous Arthur on the living room hearth.

After the candy had cooled,

And the popcorn had been flooded in melted butter,

They would gather about the hearth to roast apples and chestnuts,

And to listen to the fairy tales that Mayda would read.

The one thing which she could do,

And they could not,

Was to read with the ease and expression of a grown person.

As many of her books were in French as in English,

And it was the wonder of the other WMNTs that she could read a French story,

Translating as she went.

Her books were a delight to Arthur and Dickie,

And she lent them freely.

Rosie liked to listen to stories,

But she did not care to read.

Mayda was very happy nowadays.

Laura was the only person in the court who had caused her any uneasiness.

Since the day that Laura had made herself so disagreeable,

Mayda had avoided her steadily.

Best of all,

Perhaps,

Mayda's health had improved so much that even her limp was slowly disappearing.

In the course of time,

The children taught Mayda the secret language of the WMNTs.

They could hold long conversations that were unintelligible to anybody else.

When at first,

They used it in fun before Mayda,

She could not understand a word.

After they had explained it to her,

She wondered that she had ever been puzzled.

Billy Potter was finally invited to join the WMNTs too.

He never missed a meeting if he could possibly help it.

Why do you call Mayda Petranilla?

Dickie asked him curiously one day,

When Mayda had run home for more paper.

Petranilla is the name of a little girl in a fairy tale that I read when I was a little boy,

Billy answered.

And was she like Mayda?

Arthur asked.

Very.

How?

Rosie inquired.

Petranilla had a gold star set in her forehead by a fairy when she was a baby,

Billy explained.

It was a magic star.

Nobody but fairies could see it,

But it was always there.

Anybody who came within the light of Petranilla's star,

No matter how wicked or hopeless or unhappy he was,

Was made better and happier.

Nobody spoke for an instant.

Then,

I guess Mayda's got the star all right,

Dickie said.

Chapter 10 Play Play But although the WMNTs worked very hard,

You must not suppose that they left no time to play.

Indeed,

The weather was so fine that it was hard to stay in the house.

The beautiful Indian summer had come,

And each new day dawned more perfect than the last.

The trees had become so gorgeous that it was as if the streets were lined with burning torches.

Whenever a breeze came,

They seemed to flicker and flame and flare.

Mayda and Rosie used to shuffle along the gutters gathering pockets full of glossy horse chestnuts and handfuls of gorgeous leaves.

Sometimes,

It seemed to Mayda that she did not need to play,

That there was fun enough in just being out of doors.

But she did play a great deal,

For she was well enough to join in all the fun now,

And it seemed to her that she could never get enough of any one game.

She would play house and paper dolls and ring games with the little children in the morning when the older ones were in school.

She would play jackstones with the bigger girls in the afternoon.

She would play running games with the crowd of girls and boys,

Of whom the WMNTs were the leaders towards night.

Then sometimes,

She would grumble to Granny because the days were so short.

Of all the games,

Hoist the sail was her favorite.

Hoist the sail was her favorite.

She often served as captain on her side.

But whether she called or awaited the cry,

Liberty poles are bending,

Hoist the sail!

A thrill ran through her that made her blood dance.

It's no use in talking,

Granny,

Mayda said joyfully one day.

My leg is getting stronger.

I jumped 20 jumps today without stopping.

After that,

Her progress was rapid.

She learned to jump in the rope with Rosie.

They were a pretty sight.

People passing often gave them more than one glance.

Rosie so vivid and sparkling in the scarlet cape.

Mayda slim,

Delicate,

Fairy-like in her long squirrel coat and cap,

Her airy ringlets streaming in the breeze,

And the eyes that had once been so wistful now shining with happiness.

Do you know what you look like,

Mayda?

Rosie said once.

Before Mayda could answer,

She went on.

You look like the little mermaid princess in Anderson's fairy tales,

The one who had to suffer so to get legs like mortal's.

Do I,

Mayda laughed?

Now isn't it strange?

I have always thought that you look like somebody in a fairy tale too.

You're like Rose 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 like this,

That you are the beautifullest girl I ever saw.

Why,

That's just what I think of you,

Rosie said in surprise.

I just love black hair,

Mayda said.

And I just adore golden hair,

Rosie said.

Now isn't that strange?

I guess,

Mayda announced after a moment of thought,

People like what they haven't got.

After a while,

Rosie taught Mayda to jump in the big rope with half a dozen children at once.

Mayda never tired of this.

When she heard the rope swishing through the air,

A kind of excitement came over her.

She was proud to think that she had caught the trick,

That something inside would warn her when to jump,

That she could be sure that this warning would not come an instant too soon or too late.

The consciousness of a new strength and new power made a different child of her.

It made her eyes sparkle like grey diamonds.

It made her cheeks glow like pink peonies.

By this time,

She could spin tops with the best of them.

Sometimes,

She had five tops going at once.

This was a sport of which the WMNTs never tired.

They kept it up long into the twilight.

Sometimes Granny would have to ring the dinner bell a half a dozen times before Mayda appeared.

Mayda did not mean to be disobedient.

She simply did not hear the bell.

Granny's scoldings for this carelessness were very gentle.

Mayda's face was too radiant with her triumph in this new skill.

There was something about Primrose Court.

The rows of trees welded into a yellow arch high over their heads.

The sky showing through in diamond-shaped glints of blue,

The tiny trim houses and their tinier trimmer yards.

The doves pink-toeing everywhere,

Their throats bubbling colour as wonderful as the old Venetian glass in the Beacon street house.

The children running and shouting,

The very smell of the dust which their pattering feet threw up.

Something in the look of all this made Mayda's spirit sleep.

I'm happy,

Happy,

Happy,

Mayda said one day.

The next,

Rosie came rushing into the shop with her frightened face.

Oh,

Mayda,

She panted,

A terrible thing has happened.

Laura Lathrop'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 times yesterday.

Dr.

Ames went there three times yesterday.

Annie says Mrs.

Lathrop looks something awful.

The poor,

Poor woman,

Granny murmured compassionately.

Oh,

I'm so sorry I was crossed to Laura,

Mayda said.

Oh,

I do hope she won't die.

It must be dreadful for Laura,

Rosie continued.

Harold can't go near her.

Nobody goes into the room but her mother and the nurse.

The news cast a deep gloom over the court.

The little children,

Betsy,

Molly and Tim,

Played as usual for they could not understand the situation.

But the noisy fun of the older children ceased entirely.

They gathered on the corner and talked in low voices,

Watching with dread any movement in the Lathrop house.

For a week or more,

Primrose Court was the quietest spot in the neighborhood.

They say she's sinking,

Rosie said that first night.

The thought of it colored Mayda's dreams.

She's got through the night all right,

Rosie reported in the morning,

Her face shining with hope,

And they think she's a little better.

But late the next afternoon,

Rosie appeared again,

Her face dark with dread.

Laura's worse again.

Two or three days passed.

Sometimes Laura was better,

Oftener she was worse.

Dr.

Ames' carriage seemed always to be driving into the court.

Annie says she's dying,

Rosie retailed despairingly.

They don't think she'll live through the night.

Oh,

Won't it be dreadful to wake up tomorrow and find the crepe on the door?

The thought of what she might see in the morning kept Mayda awake a long time that night.

When she arose,

Her first glance was for the Lathrop door.

There was no crepe.

No better,

Rosie dropped in to say on her way to school.

But,

She added hopefully,

She's no worse.

Mayda watched the Lathrop house all day,

Dreading to see the undertaker's wagon drive up.

But it did not come.

Not that day,

Nor the 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 she was 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 tomorrow at one o'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,

Mayda exclaimed,

Delighted.

Seizing each other 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,

Mayda said.

So am I,

Rosie declared.

The last thing I ever said to her was that she was a hateful little smarty cat.

Five minutes before one,

The next day,

All the children in Primrose Court gathered on the lawn in front of Laura's window.

Mayda led Molly by one hand and Tim by the other.

Rosie led Betsy and Delia.

Dorothy Clark held Fluff and Mabel held Tag.

Promptly at one o'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 and the girls their handkerchiefs.

Tag barked madly and Rosie declared afterwards that even Fluff looked excited.

But Mayda stood still with the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Laura's face looked so tiny,

Her eyes so big and sad.

From her own experience,

Mayda could guess how weak Laura felt.

Laura stayed only an instant at the window.

One feeble wave of her claw-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 Mayda and Billy Potter.

She's read all her books to her and played all her games with her,

And Laura keeps saying she wished she had something new.

Oh,

I do wish we could think of something to do for her,

Mayda said wistfully.

I know just how she feels.

If I could only think of a new toy,

But Laura has everything.

And then the trouble with toys is that after you've played with them once,

There's no more fun in them.

I know what that is.

If we all had telephones,

We could talk to her once in a while.

Even that would tire her,

I guess.

Billy jumped.

I know what we can do for Laura,

He said.

I'll have to have Mrs.

Lathrop's permission,

Though.

He seized his hat and made for the door.

I'd better see her about it tonight.

The door slammed.

It had all happened so suddenly that the children gazed after him with wide open mouths and eyes.

What do you suppose is going to be,

Mayda?

Rosie asked finally.

I don't know,

Mayda answered.

I haven't the least idea,

But if Billy makes it,

You may be sure it will be wonderful.

When Billy came back,

They asked him a hundred questions,

But they could not get a word out of him in regard to the new toy.

He appeared at the shop early the next morning with a suitcase full of bundles,

Then followed doings that,

For a long time,

Were a mystery to everybody.

A crowd of excited children followed him about,

Asking him dozens of questions and chattering frantically among themselves.

First,

He opened one of the bundles,

Out dropped eight little pulleys.

Second,

He went up into Mayda's bedroom and fastened one of the little pulleys on the sill outside her window.

Third,

He did the same thing in Rosie's house,

In Arthur's and in Dickie's.

Fourth,

He fastened four of the little pulleys at the playroom window in the Lathrop house.

Oh,

What is he doing?

I can't think of anything.

Oh,

I wish he'd tell us,

Came from the children who watched these maneuvers from the street.

Fifth,

Billy opened another bundle.

This time,

Out came four coils of a 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 the entreaties of his friends.

Sixth,

Billy ran a double line of rope between Mayda's and Laura's window,

A second between Rosie's and Laura's,

And a third between Arthur's and Laura's,

And a fourth between Dickie's and Laura's.

Last,

Billy opened another bundle.

Out dropped four square tin boxes,

Each with a cover and a handle.

I've guessed it!

I've guessed it!

Mayda and Rosie screamed together.

It's a telephone!

That's the answer,

Billy confessed.

He went from house to house,

Fastening 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,

And it will sail over to her window.

Suppose you all run home and write something now.

I'll go over to Laura's to see how it works.

The children scattered.

In a few moments,

Four excited little faces appeared at as many windows.

The telephone worked perfectly.

Billy handed Mrs.

Lathrop the notes to deliver to Laura.

Oh,

Mr.

Potter,

Mrs.

Lathrop said suddenly,

There's a matter that I wish to speak to you about.

That little Flynn girl has lived in the family of Mr.

Jerome Rustabrook,

Hasn't she?

Billy's eyes shrinkled up.

Yes,

Mrs.

Lathrop,

He admitted.

She lived in the Rustabrook 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 of Meda's grief the day that she held Laura to the window.

I hope Mr.

Rustabrook'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 Westerbrook child?

Elizabeth Fairfax Westerbrook.

What is she like?

She's a good deal like Meda,

Billy said,

His eyes beginning to sprinkle up again.

They could easily pass for sisters.

I suppose that's why the Westerbrooks have been so good to the little Flynn girl,

Mrs.

Lathrop went on,

For they certainly are very good to her.

It is quite evident that Meda's clothes belonged once to the little Westerbrook girl.

You are quite right,

Mrs.

Lathrop.

They were made for the little Westerbrook girl.

Mrs.

Lathrop always declared afterwards that it was the telephone that really cured Laura.

Certainly,

It proved to be the most exciting of toys to the little invalid.

There was always something waiting for her when she waked up in the morning,

And the tin boxes kept bobbing from window to window until long after dark.

The girls kept her informed of what was going on in the neighborhood,

And the boys sent her jokes and conundrums and puzzle pictures cut from the newspapers.

Gifts came to her at all hours.

Sometimes it would be a bit of wood carving,

A grotesque face,

Perhaps that Arthur had done.

Sometimes it was a bit of Dickie's pretty paperwork.

Rosie sent her specimens of her cooking from candy to hot roasted potatoes,

And Meda sent her daily translations of an exciting fairy tale,

Which she was reading in French for the first time.

Pretty soon,

Laura was well enough to answer the notes herself.

She wrote each of her correspondents a long,

Grateful and affectionate letter.

By and by,

She was able to sit in a chair at the window and watch the games.

The children remembered every few moments to look and wave to her,

And she always waved back.

At last,

Came the morning when 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,

She could stand in the ring games with the little children.

By the end of a week,

She seemed quite herself.

One morning,

Every child in Primrose Court received a letter in the mail.

It was written on gay-tinted paper with a pretty picture at the top.

It read,

But as Meda ceased gradually to worry about Laura,

She began to be troubled about Rosie,

For Rosie was not the same child.

Much of the time,

She was silent,

Moody and listless.

One afternoon,

She came over to the shop,

Bringing the Clark twins with her.

For a while,

She and Meda played house with the little girls.

Suddenly,

Rosie tired of this game and sent the children home.

Then,

For a time,

She frolicked with Fluff while Meda read aloud.

As suddenly as she had stopped playing house,

She interrupted Meda.

Don't read anymore,

She commanded.

I want to talk with you.

Meda had felt the whole afternoon that there was something on Rosie's mind,

For whenever the scowl came between Rosie's eyebrows,

It meant trouble.

Meda closed her book and sat waiting.

Meda,

Rosie asked,

Do you remember your mother?

Oh,

Yes,

Meda answered,

Perfectly.

She was very beautiful.

I could not forget her any more than a wonderful picture.

She used to come and kiss me every night before she went to dinner with Papa.

She always smelled so sweet.

Whenever I see any flowers,

I think of her.

And she wore such beautiful dresses and jewels.

She loved sparkly 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 a diamond fastened in every rose to make it look like dew.

When her hair was down,

It came to her knees.

She let me brush it sometimes with her gold brush.

A gold brush,

Rosie said,

In an odd tone.

Yes,

It was gold,

With her initials and diamonds on it.

Papa gave her a whole set one birthday.

How old were you when she died?

Rosie asked after a pause in which her scowl grew deeper.

Eight.

And what did she die of?

I don't know,

Meda answered.

You see,

I was so little that I didn't understand about dying.

I had never heard of it.

They told me one day that my mother had gone away.

I used to ask every day when she 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 they told me that my mother was living far away in a beautiful country,

And she would never come back.

They said that I must not cry,

For she loved me and was always watching over me.

It was a great comfort to know that,

And of course I never cried after that for the fear of worrying her.

But at first it was very lonely.

Why,

Rosie,

She stopped,

Terrified.

What's the matter?

Rosie had thrown herself on the couch and was crying bitterly.

Oh,

Meda,

She sobbed.

That's exactly what they say to me when I ask them.

Next week,

And next week,

And next week,

Until I'm sick of it.

My mother is dead.

I know it.

Oh,

Rosie,

Meda protested.

Oh,

No,

No,

No.

Your mother's not dead.

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 so convulsively that Meda 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,

Meda said after a moment,

In which she thought the matter out.

They were afraid that I might die if 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 to your Aunt Teresa as you can.

Oh,

Rosie,

Please go to school every day.

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 see if I can help Aunt Teresa with supper.

And I'm going to get her to teach me how to cook everything so that I can help Mother if she ever comes home.

The next day,

Rosie came into the shop with the happiest look that she had worn for a long time.

I peeled the potatoes for Aunt Teresa last night,

She announced,

And set the table and wiped the dishes.

She was real surprised.

She asked me what had gotten into me.

I'm glad,

Meda approved.

I asked her when Mother was coming back,

And she said the same thing.

Next week,

I think.

Rosie's lip quivered.

I think she'll come back,

Rosie,

Meda insisted.

And now,

Let's not talk anymore about it.

Let's come out to play.

Mindful of her own lecture on obedience to Rosie,

Meda skipped home the 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.

Meda could see that she was trying to keep her lips prim at the corners.

She wondered who it was.

Could it be?

She ran into the living room.

Her father jumped up from the easy chair to meet her.

Well,

Well,

Well,

Miss Rosie Cheeks.

No need to ask how you are,

He said,

Kissing her.

Oh,

Papa,

Papa.

I never was so happy in all my life.

If you could only be here with me all the time,

There wouldn't be another thing in the world that I wanted.

Don't you think you could give up Wall Street and come to live in this court?

You might open a shop too,

Papa.

I know you'd make a good shopkeeper,

Although it isn't so easy as a lot of people think.

But I teach you all I know.

And then,

It's such fun.

You can have a big shop for I know just how you like big things,

Just as I like little ones.

Buffalo Westerbrook laughed.

I may have to come to it yet,

But it doesn't look like it this moment.

My gracious posy,

How you've improved.

I never would know you for the same child.

Where did you get those dimples?

I never saw them in your face before.

Your mother had 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.

Meda knew that she must not let him stay sad.

Dimples,

She squealed.

Really,

Papa?

She ran over to the mirror,

Climbed up on a chair,

And peeked in.

Her face fell.

I don't see any,

She said mournfully.

And you're losing your limp,

Mr.

Westerbrook said.

Then,

Catching sight of her woe-begone face,

He laughed.

That's because you've stopped smiling,

You little goose,

He said.

Grin,

And you'll see them.

Obedient,

Meda grinned so hard that it hurt.

But the grin softened to a smile of perfect happiness.

For,

Sure enough,

Pricking through the round of her soft pink cheeks were a pair of tiny hollows.

Sweet dreams,

My friend.

Sleep well.

Reviews

I love seeing Maida’s life grow with friends & activities.

I so enjoyed listening to your stories. Will you be recording more chapters soon? I hope so!

Such a darling story, read in such a sweet voice, thank you so much❤️🙏🏽