Rosie laughed scornfully. "I guess n.o.body'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 Maida opened the door there stood Rosie.

"Oh, Rosie," Maida 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. Maida 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.

Maida 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 Maida's bedroom, the two little girls had a long confidential talk.

"I've been just crazy to know you, Maida," 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 mother to buy me a top."

"That's funny," Maida 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 little 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."

"n.o.body 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 on 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 'Taisez-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 parokets 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 peac.o.c.ks."

"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 my window on to 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, 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 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, 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 shop-keeper," he said after a long pause in which he studied her keenly, "you're beginning to look like a real live girl." He dropped her gently to her feet. "Now show me your shop."

CHAPTER V: PRIMROSE COURT

But during that first two weeks a continual rush of business made long days for Maida. All the children in the neighborhood were curious to see the place. It had been dark and dingy as long as they could remember. Now it was always bright and pretty-always sweet with the perfume of flowers, always gay with the music of birds. But more, the children wanted to see the lame little girl who "tended store," who seemed to try so hard to please her customers and who was so affectionate and respectful with the old, old lady whom she called "Granny."

At noon and night the bell sounded a continuous tinkle.

For a week Maida kept rather close to the shop. She wanted to get acquainted with all her customers. Moreover, she wanted to find out which of the things she had bought sold quickly and which were unpopular.

After a day or two her life fell into a regular programme.

Early in the morning she would put the shop to rights for the day's sale, dusting, replacing the things she had sold, rearranging them often according to some pretty new scheme.

About eight o'clock the bell would call her into the shop and it would be brisk work until nine. Then would come a rest of three hours, broken only by an occasional customer. In this interval she often worked in the yard, raking up the leaves that fell from vine and bush, picking the bravely-blooming dahlias, gathering sprays of woodbine for the vases, scattering crumbs to the birds.

At twelve the children would begin to flood the shop again and Maida would be on her feet constantly until two. Between two and four came another long rest. After school trade started up again. Often it lasted until six, when she locked the door for the night.

In her leisure moments she used to watch the people coming and going in Primrose Court. With Rosie's and d.i.c.ky's help, she soon knew everybody by name. She discovered by degrees that on the right side of the court lived the Hales, the Clarks, the Doyles and the Dores; on the left side, the Duncans, the Brines and the Allisons. In the big house at the back lived the Lathrops.