Maida's Little Shop Part 3

Maida examined both rooms carefully. "Well, I don't care for myself which I have," she said. "But it does seem as if there were a teeny-weeny more sun in this one. I think Granny ought to have it, for she loves the suns.h.i.+ne on her old bones. You know, Billy, Granny and I have the greatest fun about our bones. Hers are all wrong because they're so old, and mine are all wrong because they're so young."

"All right," Billy agreed. "Suns.h.i.+ny one for Granny, shady one for you. That's settled! I hope you realize, Miss Maida, Elizabeth, Fairfax, Petronilla, Pinkwink, Posie Westabrook what perfectly bully rooms these are! They're as old as Noah."

"I'm glad they're old," Maida said. "But of course they must be.

This house was here when Dr. Pierce was a little boy. And that must have been a long, long, long time ago."

"Just look at the floors," Billy went on admiringly. "See how uneven they are. You'll have to walk straight here, Petronilla, to keep from falling down. That old wooden wainscoting is simply charming.

That's a nice old fireplace too. And these old doors are perfect."

Granny Flynn was working the latch of one of the old doors with her wrinkled hands. "Manny's the toime Oi've snibbed a latch loike that in Oireland," she said, and she smiled so hard that her very wrinkles seemed to twinkle.

"And look at the windows, Granny," Billy said. "Sixteen panes of gla.s.s each. I hope you'll make Petronilla wash them."

"Oh, Granny, will you let me wash the windows?" Maida asked ecstatically.

"When you're grand and sthrong," Granny promised.

"I know just how I'll furnish the room," Billy said half to himself.

"Oh, Billy, tell me!" Maida begged.

"Can't," he protested mischievously. "You've got to wait till it's all finished before you see hide or hair of it."

"I know I'll die of curiosity," Maida protested. "But then of course I shall be very busy with my own business."

"Ah, yes," Billy replied. "Now that you've embarked on a mercantile career, Miss Westabrook, I think you'll find that you'll have less and less time for the decorative side of life."

Billy spoke so seriously that most little girls would have been awed by his manner. But Maida recognized the tone that he always employed when he was joking her. Beside, his eyes were all "skrinkled up."

She did not quite understand what the joke was, but she smiled back at him.

"Now can we look at the things downstairs?" she pleaded.

"Yes," Billy a.s.sented. "To-day is a very important day. Behind locked doors and sealed windows, we're going to take account of stock."

Granny Flynn remained in the bedrooms to make all kinds of mysterious measurements, to open and shut doors, to examine closets, to try window-sashes, even to poke her head up the chimney.

Downstairs, Billy and Maida opened boxes and boxes and boxes and drawers and drawers and drawers. Every one of these had been carefully gone over by the conscientious Mrs. Murdock. Two boxes bulged with toys, too broken or soiled to be of any use. These they threw into the ash-barrel at once. What was left they dumped on the floor. Maida and Billy sat down beside the heap and examined the things, one by one. Maida had never seen such toys in her life-so cheap and yet so amusing.

It was hard work to keep to business with such enchanting temptation to play all about them. Billy insisted on spinning every top-he got five going at once-on blowing every balloon-he produced such dreadful wails of agony that Granny came running downstairs in great alarm-on jumping with every jump-rope-the short ones tripped him up and once he sprawled headlong-on playing jackstones-Maida beat him easily at this-on playing marbles-with a piece of crayon he drew a ring on the floor-on looking through all the books-he declared that he was going to buy some little penny-pamphlet fairy-tales as soon as he could save the money. But in spite of all this fooling, they really accomplished a great deal.

They found very few eatables-candy, fruit, or the like. Mrs. Murdock had wisely sold out this perishable stock. One gla.s.s jar, however, was crammed full of what Billy recognized to be "bulls-eyes"-round lumps of candy as big as plums and as hard as stones. Billy said that he loved bulls-eyes better than terrapin or broiled live lobster, that he had not tasted one since he was "half-past ten."

For the rest of the day, one of his cheeks stuck out as if he had the toothache.

They came across all kinds of odds and ends-lead pencils, blank-books, an old slate pencil wrapped in gold paper which Billy insisted on using to draw pictures on a slate-he made this squeak so that Maida clapped her hands over her ears. They found single pieces from sets of miniature furniture, a great many dolls, rag-dolls, china dolls, celluloid dolls, the latest bisque beauties, and two old-fas.h.i.+oned waxen darlings whose features had all run together from being left in too great a heat.

They went through all these things, sorting them into heaps which they afterwards placed in boxes. At noon, Billy went out and bought lunch. Still squatting on the floor, the three of them ate sandwiches and drank milk. Granny said that Maida had never eaten so much at one meal.

All this happened on Sat.u.r.day. Maida did not see the little shop again until it was finished.

By Monday the place was as busy as a beehive. Men were putting in a furnace, putting in a telephone, putting in a bathroom, whitening the plaster, painting the woodwork.

Finally came two days of waiting for the paint to dry. "Will it ever, _ever_, EVER dry?" Maida used to ask Billy in the most despairing of voices.

By Thursday, the rooms were ready for their second coat of paint.

"Oh, Billy, do tell me what color it is-I can't wait to see it,"

Maida begged.

But, "Sky-blue-pink" was all she got from Billy.

Sat.u.r.day the furniture came.

In the meantime, Maida had been going to all the princ.i.p.al wholesale places in Boston picking out new stock. Granny Flynn accompanied her or stayed at home, according to the way she felt, but Billy never missed a trip.

Maida enjoyed this tremendously, although often she had to go to bed before dark. She said it was the responsibility that tired her.

To Maida, these big wholesale places seemed like the storehouses of Santa Claus. In reality they were great halls, lined with parallel rows of counters. The counters were covered with boxes and the boxes were filled with toys. Along the aisles between the counters moved crowds of buyers, busily examining the display.

It was particularly hard for Maida to choose, because she was limited by price. She kept recalling Mrs. Murdock's advice, "Get as many things as you can 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.

Sat.u.r.day 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, gla.s.sed in by sliding doors, ran the whole length of the wall and nearly to the ceiling. Behind the show case stood a comfortable, cus.h.i.+oned 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.