“I can’t prove it,” she said at last, “and I hadn’t any idea of trying to.  I’m only warning you that you must not come in here if you’re not to be trusted.  And I told you the truth when I said I would rather give you anything in the shop than have you steal it.  For I think you must need those things very badly to be willing to get them that way.  I don’t believe anybody wants to steal.  Now when you want anything so bad as that, come to me and I’ll see if I can get it for you.”

Arthur stared at her as if he had not a word on his tongue.  “If you think you can frighten me,—­” he said.  Then, without ending his sentence, he swaggered out of the shop.  But to Maida his swagger seemed like something put on to conceal another feeling.

Maida suddenly felt very tired.  She wished that Granny Flynn would come back.  She wanted Granny to take her into her lap, to cuddle her, to tell her some merry little tale of the Irish fairies.  But, instead, the bell rang and another customer came in.  While she was waiting on her, Maida noticed somebody come stealthily up to the window, look in and then duck down.  She wondered if it might be Billy playing one of his games on her.

The customer went out.  In a few moments the bell tinkled again.  Maida had been leaning against the counter, her tired head on her outstretched arms.  She looked up.  It was Arthur Duncan.

He strode straight over to her.

“Here’s three cents for your rubber,” he said, “and five for your pencil, five for the blank book and there’s two dimes I took out of the money-drawer.”

Maida did not know what to say.  The tears came to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.  Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to the other in intense embarrassment.

“I didn’t know it would make you feel as bad as that,” he said.

“I don’t feel bad,” Maida sobbed—­and to prove it she smiled while the tears ran down her cheeks—­“I feel glad.”

What he would have answered to this she never knew.  For at that moment the door flew open.  The little rowdy boys who had been troubling her so much lately, let out a series of blood-curdling yells.

“What’s that?” Arthur asked.

“I don’t know who they are,” Maida said wearily, “but they do that three or four times every night.  I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Well, I do,” Arthur said.  “You wait!”

He went over to the door and waited, flattening himself against the wall.  After a long silence, they could hear footsteps tip-toeing on the bricks outside.  The door flew open.  Arthur Duncan leaped like a cat through the opening.  There came back to Maida the sound of running, then a pause, then another sound very much as if two or three naughty little heads were being vigorously knocked together.  She heard Arthur say: 

“Let me catch one of you doing that again and I’ll lick you till you can’t stand up.  And remember I’ll be watching for you every night now.”