Maidas Little Shop | Page 9

for a cent a-piece." The expensive toys tempted her,
but although she often stopped and looked them wistfully over, she
always ended by going to the cheaper counters.

"You ought to be thinking how you'll decorate the windows for your
first day's sale," Billy advised her. "You must make it look as tempting
as possible. I think, myself, it's always a good plan to display the toys
that go with the season."
Maida thought of this a great deal after she went to bed at night. By the
end of the week, she could see in imagination just how her windows
were going to look.
Saturday night, Billy told her that everything was ready, that she should
see the completed house Monday morning. It seemed to Maida that the
Sunday coming in between was the longest day that she had ever
known.
When she unlocked the door to the shop, the next morning, she let out a
little squeal of joy. "Oh, I would never know it," she declared. "How
much bigger it looks, and lighter and prettier!"
Indeed, you would never have known the place yourself. The ceiling
had been whitened. The faded drab woodwork had been painted white.
The walls had been colored a beautiful soft yellow. Back of the counter
a series of shelves, glassed in by sliding doors, ran the whole length of
the wall and nearly to the ceiling. Behind the show case stood a
comfortable, cushioned swivel-chair.
"The stuff you've been buying, Petronilla," Billy said, pointing to a big
pile of boxes in the corner. "Now, while Granny and I are putting some
last touches to the rooms upstairs, you might be arranging the window."
"That's just what I planned to do," Maida said, bubbling with
importance. "But you promise not to interrupt me till it's all done."
"All right," Billy agreed, smiling peculiarly. He continued to smile as
he opened the boxes.
It did not occur to Maida to ask them what they were going to do
upstairs. It did not occur to her even to go up there. From time to time,
she heard Granny and Billy laughing. "One of Billy's jokes," she said to

herself. Once she thought she heard the chirp of a bird, but she would
not leave her work to find out what it was.
When the twelve o'clock whistle blew, she called to Granny and to
Billy to come to see the results of her morning's labor.
"I say!" Billy emitted a long loud whistle.
"Oh, do you like it?" Maida asked anxiously.
"It's a grand piece of work, Petronilla," Billy said heartily.
The window certainly struck the key-note of the season. Tops of all
sizes and colors were arranged in pretty patterns in the middle. Marbles
of all kinds from the ten-for-a-cent "peeweezers" up to the most
beautiful, colored "agates" were displayed at the sides. Jump-ropes of
variegated colors with handles, brilliantly painted, were festooned at
the back. One of the window shelves had been furnished like a tiny
room. A whole family of dolls sat about on the tiny sofas and chairs.
On the other shelf lay neat piles of blank-books and paper-blocks, with
files of pens, pencils, and rubbers arranged in a decorative pattern
surrounding them all.
In the show case, fresh candies had been laid out carefully on saucers
and platters of glass. On the counter was a big, flowered bowl.
"To-morrow, I'm going to fill that bowl with asters," Maida explained.
"OI'm sure the choild has done foine," Granny Flynn said, "Oi cudn't
have done betther mesilf."
"Now come and look at your rooms, Petronilla," Billy begged, his eyes
dancing.
Maida opened the door leading into the living-room. Then she squealed
her delight, not once, but continuously, like a very happy little pig.
The room was as changed as if some good fairy had waved a magic
wand there. All the woodwork had turned a glistening white. The wall

paper blossomed with garlands of red roses, tied with snoods of red
ribbons. At each of the three windows waved sash curtains of a snowy
muslin. At each of the three sashes hung a golden cage with a pair of
golden canaries in it. Along each of the three sills marched pots of
brilliantly-blooming scarlet geraniums. A fire spluttered and sparkled
in the fireplace, and drawn up in front of it was a big easy chair for
Granny, and a small easy one for Maida. Familiar things lay about, too.
In one corner gleamed the cheerful face of the tall old clock which
marked the hours with so silvery a voice and the moon-changes by such
pretty pictures. In another corner shone the polished surface of a
spidery-legged little spinet. Maida loved both these things almost as
much as if they had been human beings, for