Maida laughed.  “No, Rosie,” she said in her quietest voice, “I did not imagine them.”

For a moment neither of the two little girls spoke.  But they stared, a little defiantly, into each other’s eyes.

“What did Dicky say?” Maida asked after awhile.

“Oh, Dicky said he would believe anything you told him, no matter what it was.  Dicky says he believes you’re a princess in disguise—­like in fairy-tales.”

“Dear, dear Dicky!” Maida said.  “He was the first friend I made in Primrose Court and I guess he’s the best one.”

“Well, I guess I’m your friend,” Rosie said, firing up; “I told that little smarty-cat of a Laura if she ever said one word against you, I’d slap her good and hard.  Only—­only—­it seems strange that a little girl who’s just like the rest of us should have story-book things happening to her all the time.  If it’s true—­then fairy-tales are true.”  She paused and looked Maida straight in the eye.  “I can’t believe it, Maida.  But I know you believe it.  And that’s all there is to it.  But you’d better believe I’m your friend.”

Saying which she marched out.

Maida’s second trouble began that night.

It had grown dark.  Suddenly, without any warning, the door of the shop flew open.  For an instant three or four voices filled the place with their yells.  Then the door shut.  Nothing was heard but the sound of running feet.

Granny and Maida rushed to the door.  Nobody was in sight.

“Who was it?  What does it mean, Granny?” Maida asked in bewilderment.  “Only naughty b’ys, taysing you,” Granny explained.

Maida had hardly seated herself when the performance was repeated.  Again she rushed to the door.  Again she saw nobody.  The third time she did not stir from her chair.

Tuesday night the same thing happened.  Who the boys were Maida could not find out.  Why they bothered her, she could not guess.

“Take no notuce av ut, my lamb,” Granny counselled.  “When they foind you pay no attintion to ut, they’ll be afther stopping.”

Maida followed Granny’s advice.  But the annoyance did not cease and she began to dread the twilight.  She made up her mind that she must put an end to it soon.  She knew she could stop it at once by appealing to Billy Potter.  And, yet, somehow, she did not want to ask for outside help.  She had a feeling of pride about handling her own troubles.

One afternoon Laura came into the shop.  It was the first time that Maida had seen her since the afternoon of her call and Maida did not speak.  She felt that she could not have anything to do with Laura after what had happened.  But she looked straight at Laura and waited.

Laura did not speak either.  She looked at Maida as if she had never seen her before.  She carried her head at its highest and she moved across the room with her most important air.  As she stood a moment gazing at the things in the show case, she had never seemed more patronizing.