Laura had scarcely left when Dicky appeared, swinging between his crutches.  “Maida,” he said, “I want you to come over to-morrow afternoon and see my place.  You’ve not seen Delia yet and there’s a whole lot of things I want to show you.  I’m going to clean house to-day so’s I’ll be all ready for you to-morrow.”

“Oh, thank you,” Maida said.  The sparkle that always meant delight came into her face.  “I shall be delighted.  I’ve always wanted to go over and see you ever since I first knew you.  But Granny said to wait until you invited me.  And I really have never seen Delia except when Rosie’s had her in the carriage.  And then she’s always been asleep.”

“You have to see Delia in the house to know what a naughty baby she is,” Dicky said.  He spoke as if that were the finest tribute that he could pay his little sister.

“Granny,” Maida said that noon at lunch, “Laura Lathrop came here and invited me to come to see her this afternoon and I just hate the thought of going—­I don’t know why.  Then Dicky came and invited me to come and see him to-morrow afternoon and I just love the thought of going.  Isn’t it strange?”

“Very,” Granny said, smiling.  “But you be sure to be a noice choild this afternoon, no matter what that wan says to you.”

Granny always referred to Laura as “that wan.”

“Oh, yes, I’ll be good, Granny.  Isn’t it funny,” Maida went on.  The tone of her voice showed that she was thinking hard.  “Laura makes me mad—­oh, just hopping mad,”—­“hopping mad” was one of Rosie’s expressions—­“and yet it seems to me I’d die before I’d let her know it.”

Laura was waiting for her on the piazza when Maida presented herself at the Lathrop door.  “Won’t you come in and take your things off, first?” she said.  “I thought we’d play in the house for awhile.”

She took Maida immediately upstairs to her bedroom—­a large room all furnished in blue—­blue paper, blue bureau scarf covered with lace, blue bed-spread covered with lace, a big, round, blue roller where the pillows should be.

“How do you like my room, Maida?”

“It’s very pretty.”

“This is my toilet-set.”  Laura pointed to the glittering articles on the bureau.  “Papa’s given them to me, one piece at a time.  It’s all of silver and every thing has my initials on it.  What is your set of?”

Laura paused before she asked this last question and darted one of her sideways looks at Maida.  “She thinks I haven’t any toilet-set and she wants to make me say so,” Maida thought.  “Ivory,” she said aloud.

“Ivory!  I shouldn’t think that would be very pretty.”

Laura opened her bureau drawers, one at a time, and showed Maida the pretty clothes packed in neat piles there.  She opened the large closet and displayed elaborately-made frocks, suspended on hangers.  And all the time, with little sharp, sideways glances, she was studying the effect on Maida.  But Maida’s face betrayed none of the wonder and envy that Laura evidently expected.  Maida was very polite but it was evident that she was not much interested.