Maida's Little Shop Part 13

Maida arose immediately from her chair. "We stayed in Rome two months," she said.

"Indeed. And where else did you go?"

"London, Paris, Florence and Venice."

"Do you know these other pictures?" Mrs. Lathrop asked. "I've been collecting photographs of Italian churches."

Maida went about identifying the places with little cries of joy.

"Ara Coeli-I saw in there the little wooden bambino who cures sick people. It's so covered with bracelets and rings and lockets and pins and chains that grateful people have given it that it looks as if it were dressed in jewels. The bambino's such a darling little thing with such a sweet look in its face. That's St. Agnes outside the wall-I saw two dear little baby lambs blessed on the altar there on St. Agnes's day. One was all covered with red garlands and the other with green. Oh, they were such sweethearts! They were going to use the fleece to make some garment for the pope. That's Santa Maria della Salute-they call it Santa Maria della _Volute_ instead of _Salute_ because it's all covered with volutes." Maida smiled sunnily into Mrs. Lathrop's face as if expecting sympathy with this architectural joke.

But Mrs. Lathrop did not smile. She looked a little staggered. She studied Maida for a long time out of her shrewd, light eyes.

"Whose family did you travel with?" she asked at last.

Maida felt a little embarra.s.sed. If Mrs. Lathrop asked her certain questions, it would place her in a very uncomfortable position. On the one hand, Maida could not tell a lie. On the other, her father had told her to tell n.o.body that she was his daughter.

"The family of Mr. Jerome Westabrook," she said at last.

"Oh!" It was the "oh" of a person who is much impressed. "'Buffalo'

Westabrook?" Mrs. Lathrop asked.

"Yes."

"Did your grandmother, Mrs. Flynn, go with you?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Lathrop continued to look very hard at Maida. Her eyes wandered over the little blue frock-simple but of the best materials-over the white "tire" of a delicate plaided nainsook, trimmed with Valenciennes lace, the string of blue Venetian beads, the soft, carefully-fitted shoes.

"Mr. Westabrook has a little girl, hasn't he?" Mrs. Lathrop said.

Maida felt extremely uncomfortable now. But she looked Mrs. Lathrop straight in the eye. "Yes," she answered.

"About your age?"

"Yes."

"She is an invalid, isn't she?"

"She _was_," Maida said with emphasis.

Mrs. Lathrop did not ask any more questions. She went presently into the back library. An old gentleman sat there, reading.

"That little girl who keeps the store at the corner is in there, playing with Laura, father," she said. "I guess her grandmother was a servant in 'Buffalo' Westabrook's family, for they traveled abroad a year with the Westabrook family. Evidently, they give her all the little Westabrook girl's clothes-she's dressed quite out of keeping with her station in life. Curious how refinement rubs off-the child has really a good deal of manner. I don't know that I quite like to have Laura playing with her, though."

The two little girls returned after awhile to the playroom.

"How would you like to have me dance for you?" Laura asked abruptly.

"You know I take fancy dancing."

"Oh, Laura," Maida said delightedly "will you?"

"Of course I will," Laura said with her most beaming expression.

"You wait here while I go downstairs and get into my costume. Watch that door, for I shall make my entrance there."

Maida waited what seemed a long time to her. Then suddenly Laura came whirling into the room. She had put on a little frock of pale-blue liberty silk that lay, skirt, bodice and tiny sleeves, in many little pleats-"accordion-pleated," Laura afterwards described it.

Laura's neck and arms were bare. She wore blue silk stockings and little blue-kid slippers, heelless and tied across the ankles with ribbons. Her hair hung in a crimpy torrent to below her waist.

"Oh, Laura, how lovely you do look!" Maida said, "I think you're perfectly beautiful!"

Laura smiled. Lifting both arms above her head, she floated about the room, dancing on the very tips of her toes. Turning and smiling over her shoulder, she bent and swayed and att.i.tudinized. Maida could have watched her forever.

In a few moments she disappeared again. This time she came back in a red-silk frock with a little bolero jacket of black velvet, hung with many tinkling coins. Whenever her fingers moved, a little pretty clapping sound came from them-Maida discovered that she carried tiny wooden clappers. Whenever her heels came together, a pretty musical clink came from them-Maida discovered that on her shoes were tiny metal plates.

Once again Laura went out. This time, she returned dressed like a little sailor boy. She danced a gay little hornpipe.

"I never saw anything so marvelous in my life," Maida said, her eyes s.h.i.+ning with enjoyment. "Oh, Laura how I wish I could dance like that. How did you ever learn? Do you practice all the time?"

"Oh, it's not so very hard-for me," Laura returned. "Of course, everybody couldn't learn. And I suppose you, being lame, could never do anything at all."

This was the first allusion that had been made in Primrose Court to Maida's lameness. Her face shadowed a little. "No, I'm afraid I couldn't," she said regretfully. "But-oh-think what a lovely dancer Rosie would make."

"I'm afraid Rosie's too rough," Laura said. She unfolded a little fan and began fanning herself languidly. "It's a great bother sometimes," she went on in a bored tone of voice. "Everybody is always asking me to dance at their parties. I danced at a beautiful May party last year. Did you ever see a May-pole?"

"Oh, yes," Maida said. "My birthday comes on May Day and last year father gave me a party. He had a May-pole set up on the lawn and all the children danced about it."

"My birthday comes in the summer, too. I always have a party on our place in Marblehead," Laura said. "I had fifty children at my party last year. How many did you have?"

"We sent out over five hundred invitations, I believe. But not quite four hundred accepted."

"Four hundred," Laura repeated. "Goodness, what could so many children do?"

"Oh, there were all sorts of things for them to do," Maida answered.

"There was archery and diabolo and croquet and fis.h.i.+ng-ponds and a merry-go-round and Punch and Judy on the lawn and a play in my little theater-I can't remember everything."

Laura's eyes had grown very big. "Didn't you have a perfectly splendiferous time?" she asked.

"No, not particularly," Maida said. "Not half such a good time as I've had playing in Primrose Court. I wasn't very well and then, somehow, I didn't care for those children the way I care for d.i.c.ky and Rosie and the court children."

"Goodness!" was all Laura could say for a moment. But finally she added, "I don't believe that, Maida!"

Maida stared at her and started to speak. "Oh, there's the clock striking four?" was all she said though. "I must go. Thank you for dancing for me."

She flew into her coat and hat. She could not seem to get away quick enough. n.o.body had ever doubted her word before. She could not exactly explain it to herself but she felt if she talked with Laura another moment, she would fly out of her skin.

"Mother," Laura said, after Maida had gone, "Maida Flynn told me that her father gave her a birthday party last year and invited five hundred children to it and they had a theater and a Punch and Judy show and all sorts of things. Do you think it's true?"