CHAPTER IX: WORK
It was still raining when Maida got up the next day. It rained allthe morning. She listened carefully at a quarter to twelve for theone-session bell but it did not ring. Just before school began inthe afternoon Rosie came into the shop. Maida saw at once thatsomething had happened to her. Rosie's face looked strange and shedragged 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. ButAunt Theresa was there--she'd cooked the dinner. She said that motherhad gone away for a visit and that she wouldn't be back for sometime. She said she was going to keep house for father and me whilemother was gone. I feel dreadfully homesick and lonesome withoutmother."
"Oh Rosie, I am sorry," Maida said. "But perhaps your mother won'tstay long. Do you like your Aunt Theresa?"
"Oh, yes, I like her. But of course she isn't mother."
"No, of course. Nobody is like your mother."
"Oh, yes; there's something else I had to tell you. The W.M.N.T.'sare going to meet at Dicky's after school this afternoon. Be sure tocome, Maida."
"Of course I'll come." Maida's whole face sparkled. "That is, ifGranny doesn't think it's too wet."
Rosie lingered for a few moments but she did not seem like her usualhappy-go-lucky self. And when she left, Maida noticed that insteadof running across the street she actually walked.
All the morning long Maida talked of nothing to Granny but theprospective meeting of the W.M.N.T.'s. "Just think, Granny, I neverbelonged to a club before," she said again and again.
Very early she had put out on her bed the clothes that she intendedto wear--a tanbrown serge of which she was particularly fond, and herfavorite "tire" of a delicate, soft lawn. She kept rushing to thewindow to study the sky. It continued to look like the inside of adull tin cup. She would not have eaten any lunch at all if Grannyhad not told her that she must. And her heart sank steadily all theafternoon for the rain continued to come down.
"I don't suppose I can go, Granny," she faltered when the clockstruck four.
"Sure an you _can_," Granny responded briskly.
But she wrapped Maida up, as Maida herself said: "As if I was one ofpapa's carved crystals come all the way from China."
First Granny put on a sweater, then a coat, then over all araincoat. She put a hood on her head and a veil over that. She madeher wear rubber boots and take an umbrella. Maida got into a gale oflaughter during the dressing.
"I ought to be wrapped in excelsior now," she said. "If I fall downin the puddle in the court, Granny," she threatened merrily, "Inever can pick myself up. I'll either have to roll and roll and rolluntil I get on to dry land or I'll have to wait until somebody comesand shovels me out."
But she did not fall into the puddle. She walked carefully along theedge and then ran as swiftly as her clothes and lameness wouldpermit. She arrived in Dicky's garret, red-cheeked and breathless.
Arthur and Rosie had already come. Rosie was playing on the floorwith Delia and the puppy that she had rescued from the tin-canpersecution. Rosie was growling, the dog was yelping and Delia wassquealing--but all three with delight.
Arthur and Dicky sat opposite each other, working at the roundtable.
"What do you think of that dog now, Maida?" Rosie asked proudly."His name is 'Tag.' You wouldn't know him for the same dog, wouldyou? Isn't he a nice-looking little puppy?"
Tag did look like another dog. He wore a collar and his yellowy coatshone like satin. His whole manner had changed. He came running overto Maida and stood looking at her with the most spirited air in theworld, his head on one side, one paw up and one ear cockedinquisitively. His tail wriggled so fast that Delia thinking it somewonderful new toy, kept trying to catch it and hold it in her littlefingers.
"He's a lovely doggie," Maida said. "I wish I'd brought Fluff."
"And did you ever see such a dear baby," Rosie went on, huggingDelia. "Oh, if I only had a baby brother or sister!"
"She's a darling," Maida agreed heartily. "Babies are so much morefun than dolls, don't you think so, Rosie?"
"Dolls!" No words can express the contempt that was in Miss Brine'saccent.
"What are you doing, Dicky?" Maida asked, limping over to the table.
"Making things," Dicky said cheerfully.
On the table were piles of mysterious-looking objects made entirelyof paper. Some were of white paper and others of brown, but theywere all decorated with trimmings of colored tissue.
"What are they?" Maida asked. "Aren't they lovely? I never sawanything like them in my life."
Dicky blushed all over his face at this compliment but it wasevident that he was delighted. "Well, those are paper-boxes," hesaid, pointing to the different piles of things, "and those aresteamships. Those are the old-fashioned kind with doublesmokestacks. Those are double-boats, jackets, pants, badges,nose-pinchers, lamp-lighters, firemen's caps and soldier caps."
"Oh, that's why you buy all that colored paper," Maida said in atone of great satisfaction. "I've often wondered." She examinedDicky's work carefully. She could see that it was done withremarkable precision and skill. "Oh, what fun to do things likethat. I do wish you'd show me how to make them, Dicky. I'm such auseless girl. I can't make a single thing."
"I'll show you, sure," Dicky offered generously.
"What are you making so many for?" Maida queried.
"Well, you see it's this way," Dicky began in a business-like air."Arthur and Rosie and I are going to have a fair. We've had a fairevery spring and every fall for the last three years. That's how weget our money for Christmas and the Fourth of July. Arthur whittlesthings out of wood--he'll show you what he can do in a minute--he's acrackajack. Rosie makes candy. And I make these paper things."
"And do you make much money?" Maida asked, deeply interested.
"Don't make any money at all," Dicky said. "The children pay us innails. I charge them ten nails a-piece for the easy things and twentynails for the hardest. Arthur can get more for his stuff becauseit's harder to do."
"But what do you want nails for?" Maida asked in bewilderment.
"Why, nails are junk."
"And what's junk?"
The three children stared at her. "Don't you know what _junk_ is,Maida?" Rosie asked in despair.
"No."
"Junk's old iron," Dicky explained. "And you sell it to the junkman.Once we made forty cents out of one of these fairs. One reason we'rebeginning so early this year, I've got something very particular Iwant to buy my mother for a Christmas present. Can you keep asecret, Maida?"
Maida nodded.
"Well, it's a fur collar for her neck. They have them down in astore on Main street every winter--two dollars and ninetyeight cents.It seems an awful lot but I've got over a dollar saved up. And Iguess I can do it if I work hard."
"How much have you made ordinarily?" Maida asked thoughtfully.
"Once we made forty cents a-piece but that's the most."
"I tell you what you do," Maida burst out impetuously after a momentof silence in which she considered this statement. "When the timecomes 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 theshelves off and you boys can put your things there. I'll clear outthe showcases for Rosie's candy. Won't that be lovely?" She smiledhappily.
"It would be grand business for us," Dicky said soberly, "butsomehow it doesn't seem quite fair to you."
"Oh, please don't think of that," Maida said. "I'd just love to doit. And you must teach me how to make things so that I can help you.You will take the shop, Dicky?" she pleaded. "And you, Rosie? AndArthur?" She looked from one to the other with all her heart in hereyes.
But nobody spoke for a moment. "It seems somehow as if we oughtn'tto," Dicky said awkwardly at last.
Maida's lip trem
bled. At first she could not understand. Here shewas aching to do a kindness to these three friends of hers. Andthey, for some unknown reason, would not permit it. It was not thatthey disliked her, she knew. What was it? She tried to put herselfin 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 preventthat? She must let them do something for her that would lessen thatdebt. But what? She thought very hard. In a flash it came to her--aplan by which she could make it all right.
"You see," she began eagerly, "I wanted to ask you three to help mein something, but I can't do it unless you let me help you.Listen--the next holiday is Halloween. I want to decorate my shopwith a lot of real jack-o'-lanterns cut from pumpkins. It will behard work and a lot of it and I was hoping that perhaps you'd helpme with this."
The three faces lighted up.
"Of course we will," Dicky said heartily.
"Gee, I bet Dicky and I could make some great lanterns," Arthur saidreflectively.
"And I'll help you fix up the store," Rosie said with enthusiasm. "Ijust love to make things look pretty."
"It's a bargain then," Maida said. "And now you must teach me how tohelp you this very afternoon, Dicky."
They fell to work with a vim. At least three of them did. Rosiecontinued to frisk with Delia and Tag on the floor. Dicky startedMaida on the caps first. He said that those were the easiest. And,indeed she had very little trouble with anything until she came tothe boxes. She had to do her first box over and over again before itwould come right. But Dicky was very patient with her. He kepttelling her that she did better than most beginners or she wouldhave given it up. When she made her first good box, her face beamedwith satisfaction.
"Do you mind if I take it home, Dicky?" she asked. "I'd like to showit to my father when he comes. It's the first thing I ever made inmy life."
"Of course," Dicky said.
"Don't the other children ever try to copy your things?" Maidaasked.
"They try to," Arthur answered, "but they never do so well asDicky."
"You ought to see their nose-pinchers," Rosie laughed. "They can'tstand up straight. And their boxes and steamships are the wobbliestthings."
"I'm going to get all kinds of stuff for things we make for thefair," Maida said reflectively. "Gold and silver paper and coloredstars and pretty fancy pictures for trimmings. You see if you'regoing to charge real money you must make them more beautiful thanthose for which you only charged nails."
"That's right," Dicky said. "By George, that will be great! You goahead and buy whatever you think is right, Maida, and I'll pay youfor 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 Ilearned how to do in sloyd in school. I make bread-boards androlling pins and shinny sticks and cats and little baskets out ofcherry-stones."
"Jiminy crickets, he's forgetting the boats," Dicky burst inenthusiastically. "He makes the dandiest boats you ever saw in yourlife."
Maida looked at Arthur in awe. "I never heard anything like it! Canyou make anything for girls?"
"Made me a set of the darlingest dolls' furniture you ever saw inyour life," Rosie put in from the floor.
"Say, did you get into any trouble last night?" Arthur turnedsuddenly to Rosie. "I forgot to ask you."
"Arthur and Rosie hooked jack yesterday, in all that rain," Dickyexplained to Maida. "They knew a place where they could get a wholelot of old iron and they were afraid if they waited, it would begone."
"I should say I did," Rosie answered Arthur's question. "Somebodywent and tattled to my mother. Of course, I was wet through to theskin and that gave the whole thing away, anyway. I got the worstscolding and mother sent me to bed without my supper. But I climbedout the window and went over to see Maida. I don't mind! I hateschool and as long as I live I shall never go except when I wantto--never, never, never! I guess I'm not going to be shut up studyingwhen I'd rather be out in the open air. Wouldn't you hook jack ifyou wanted to, Maida?"
Maida did not reply for an instant. She hated to have Rosie ask thisquestion, point-blank for she did not want to answer it. If she saidexactly what she thought there might be trouble. And it seemed toher that she would do almost anything rather than lose Rosie'sfriendship. But Maida had been taught to believe that the truth isthe most precious thing in the world. And so she told the truthafter a while but it was with a great effort.
"No, I wouldn't," she said.
"Oh, that's all right for _you_ to say," Rosie said firing up. "Youdon't have to go to school. You live the easiest life that anybodycan--just sitting in a chair and tending shop all day. What do youknow about it, anyway?"
Maida's lips quivered. "It is true I don't go to school, Rosie," shesaid. "But it isn't because I don't want to. I'd give anything onearth if I could go. I watch that line of children every morning andafternoon of my life and wish and _wish_ and WISH I was in it. Andwhen the windows are opened and I hear the singing and reading, itseems as if I just couldn't stand it."
"Oh, well," Rosie's tone was still scornful. "I don't believe, evenif you did go to school, that you'd ever do anything bad. You'dnever be anything but a fraid-cat and teacher's pet."
"I guess I'd be so glad to be there, I'd do anything the teacherasked," Maida said dejectedly. "I do a lot of things that botherGranny but I guess I never have been a very naughty girl. You can'tbe very naughty with your leg all crooked under you." Maida's voicehad grown bitter. The children looked at her in amazement. "Butwhat's the use of talking to you two," she went on. "You could neverunderstand. I guess Dicky knows what I mean, though."
To their great surprise, Maida put her head down on the table andcried.
For a moment the room was perfectly silent. The fire snapped andDicky went over to look at it. He stood with his back turned to theother children but a suspicious snuffle came from his direction.Arthur Duncan walked to the window and stood looking out. Rosie satstill, her eyes downcast, her little white teeth biting her redlips. Then suddenly she jumped to her feet, ran like a whirlwind toMaida's side. She put her arms about the bowed figure.
"Oh, do excuse me, Maida," she begged. "I know I'm the worst girl inthe world. Everybody says so and I guess it's true. But I do loveyou and I wouldn't have hurt your feelings for anything. I don'tbelieve you'd be a fraid-cat or teacher's pet--I truly don't. Pleaseexcuse me."
Maida wiped her tears away. "Of course I'll excuse you! But just thesame, Rosie, I hope you won't hook jack any more for someday you'llbe sorry."
"I'm going to make some candy now," Rosie said, adroitly changingthe subject. "I brought some molasses and butter and everything Ineed." She began to bustle about the stove. Soon they were alllaughing again.
Maida had never pulled candy before and she thought it the mostenchanting 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 perseveredand succeeded in pulling hers whiter than anybody's. She laughed andtalked so busily that, when she started to put on her things, alltraces of tears had disappeared.
The rain had stopped. The puddle was of monster size after so long astorm. They came out just in time to help Molly fish Tim out of thewater and to prevent Betsy from giving a stray kitten a bath.Following Rosie and Arthur, Maida waded through it from one end tothe other--it seemed the most perilous of adventures to her.
After that meeting, the W.M.N.T.'s were busier than they had everbeen. Every other afternoon, and always when it was bad weather,they worked at Maida's house. Granny gave Maida a closet all toherself and as fast as the things were finished they were put inboxes and stowed away on its capacious shelves.
Arthur whittled and carved industriously. His work went slower thanDicky's of course but, still, it went with remarkable quickness.Maida often stopped her own work on the paper things to watchArthur's. It was a constant marvel to her that such big,awkward-looking hands could perform feats of such delicacy. He
rown fingers, small and delicate as they were, bungled surprisinglyat times.
"And as for the paste," Maida said in disgust to Rosie one day,"you'd think that I fell into the paste-pot every day. I wash it offmy hands and face. I pick it off of my clothes and sometimes Grannycombs it out of my hair."
Often after dinner, the W.M.N.T.'s would call in a body on Maida.Then would follow long hours of such fun that Maida hated to hearthe clock strike nine. Always there would be molasses-candy makingby the capable Rosie at the kitchen stove and corn-popping by thevigorous Arthur on the living-room hearth. After the candy hadcooled and the pop corn had been flooded in melted butter, theywould gather about the hearth to roast apples and chestnuts and tolisten to the fairy-tales that Maida would read.
The one thing which she could do and they could not was to read withthe ease and expression of a grown person. As many of her books werein French as in English and it was the wonder of the otherW.M.N.T.'s that she could read a French story, translating as shewent. Her books were a delight to Arthur and Dicky and she lent themfreely. Rosie liked to listen to stories but she did not care toread.
Maida was very happy nowadays. Laura was the only person in theCourt who had caused her any uneasiness. Since the day that Laurahad made herself so disagreeable, Maida had avoided her steadily.Best of all, perhaps, Maida's health had improved so much that evenher limp was slowly disappearing.
In the course of time, the children taught Maida the secret languageof the W.M.N.T.'s. They could hold long conversations that wereunintelligible to anybody else. When at first they used it in funbefore Maida, she could not understand a word. After they hadexplained it to her, she wondered that she had ever been puzzled.
"It's as easy as anything," Rosy said. "You take off the first soundof a word and put it on the end with an _ay_ added to it likeMAN--an-may. BOY--oy-bay. GIRL--irl-gay. When a word is just one soundlike I or O, or when it begins with a vowel like EEL or US or OUT,you add _way_, like I--I-way. O--O-way. EEL--eel-way. US--us-way.OUT--out-way."
Thus Maida could say to Rosie:
"Are-way ou-yay oing-gay o-tay ool-schay o-tay ay-day?" and meansimply, "Are you going to school to-day?"
And sometimes to Maida's grief, Rosie would reply roguishly:
"O-nay I-way am-way oing-gay o-tay ook-hay ack-jay ith-wayArthur-way."
Billy Potter was finally invited to join the W.M.N.T.'s too. Henever missed a meeting if he could possibly help it.
"Why do you call Maida, 'Petronilla'?" Dicky asked him curiously oneday when Maida had run home for more paper.
"Petronilla is the name of a little girl in a fairy-tale that I readwhen I was a little boy," Billy answered.
"And was she like Maida?" Arthur asked.
"Very."
"How?" Rosie inquired.
"Petronilla had a gold star set in her forehead by a fairy when shewas a baby," Billy explained. "It was a magic star. Nobody butfairies could see it but it was always there. Anybody who camewithin the light of Petronilla's star, no matter how wicked orhopeless or unhappy he was, was made better and hopefuller andhappier."
Nobody spoke for an instant.
Then, "I guess Maida's got the star all right," Dicky said.
Billy was very interested in the secret language. At first when theytalked this gibberish before him, he listened mystified. But totheir great surprise he never asked a question. They went right ontalking as if he were not present. In an interval of silence, Billysaid softly:
"I-way onder-way if-way I-way ought-bay a-way uart-quay of-wayice-way-eam-cray, ese-thay ildren-chay ould-way eat-way it-way."
For a moment nobody could speak. Then a deafening, "es-yay!" wasshouted at the top of four pairs of lungs.
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