It began that noontime with a strange little scene that acted itself out in front of Maida’s window.  The children had begun to gather for school, although it was still very quiet.  Suddenly around the corner came a wild hullaballoo—­the shouts of small boys, the yelp of a dog, the rattle and clang of tin dragged on the brick sidewalk.  In another instant appeared a dog, a small, yellow cur, collarless and forlorn-looking, with a string of tin cans tied to his tail, a horde of small boys yelling after him and pelting him with stones.

Maida started up, but before she could get to the door, something flashed like a scarlet comet from across the street.  It was the little girl whom Maida had seen twice before—­the one who always wore the scarlet cape.

Even in the excitement, Maida noticed how handsome she was.  She seemed proud.  She carried her slender, erect little body as if she were a princess and her big eyes cast flashing glances about her.  Jet-black were her eyes and hair, milk-white were her teeth but in the olive of her cheeks flamed a red such as could be matched only in the deepest roses.  Maida christened her Rose-Red at once.

Rose-Red lifted the little dog into her arms with a single swoop of her strong arm.  She yanked the cans from its tail with a single indignant jerk.  Fondling the trembling creature against her cheek, she talked first to him, then to his abashed persecutors.

“You sweet, little, darling puppy, you!  Did they tie the wicked cans to his poor little tail!” and then—­“if ever I catch one of you boys treating a poor, helpless animal like this again, I’ll shake the breath out of your body—­was he the beautifullest dog that ever was?  And if that isn’t enough, Arthur Duncan will lick you all, won’t you, Arthur?” She turned pleadingly to Arthur.

Arthur nodded.

“Nobody’s going to hurt helpless creatures while I’m about!  He was a sweet little, precious little, pretty little puppy, so he was.”

Rose-Red marched into the court with the puppy, opened a gate and dropped him inside.

“That pup belongs to me, now,” she said marching back.

The school bell ringing at this moment ended the scene.

“Who’s that little girl who wears the scarlet cape?” Maida asked Dorothy and Mabel Clark when they came in together at four.

“Rosie Brine,” they answered in chorus.

“She’s a dreffle naughty girl,” Mabel said in a whisper, and “My mommer won’t let me play with her,” Dorothy added.

“Why not?” Maida asked.

“She’s a tom-boy,” Mabel informed her.

“What’s a tom-boy?” Maida asked Billy that night at dinner.

“A tom-boy?” Billy repeated.  “Why, a tom-boy is a girl who acts like a boy.”

“How can a girl be a boy?” Maida queried after a few moments of thought.  “Why don’t they call her a tom-girl?”

“Why, indeed?” Billy answered, taking up the dictionary.