Maida did not see him again then.  But just before dinner the bell rang.  When Maida opened the door there stood Arthur.

“I had this kitten and I thought you might like him,” he said awkwardly, holding out a little bundle of gray fluff.

“Want it!” Maida said.  She seized it eagerly.  “Oh, thank you, Arthur, ever so much.  Oh, Granny, look at this darling kit-kat.  What a ball of fluff he is!  I’ll call him Fluff.  And he isn’t an Angora or a prize kitty of any kind—­just a beautiful plain everyday cat—­the kind I’ve always wanted!”

Even this was not all.  After dinner the shop bell rang again.  This time it was Arthur and Rosie.  Rosie’s lips were very tight as if she had made up her mind to some bold deed but her flashing eyes showed her excitement.

“Can we see you alone for a moment, Maida?” she asked in her most business-like tones.

Wondering, Maida shut the door to the living-room and came back to them.

“Maida,” Rosie began, “Arthur told me all about the rubber and the pencil and the blank book and the dimes.  Of course, I felt pretty bad when I heard about it.  But I wanted Arthur to come right over here and explain the whole thing to you.  You see Arthur took those things to give away to Dicky because Dicky has such a hard time getting anything he wants.”

“Yes, I saw them over at Dicky’s,” Maida said.

“And then, there was a great deal more to it that Arthur’s just told me and I thought you ought to know it at once.  You see Arthur’s father belongs to a club that meets once a month and Arthur goes there a lot with him.  And those men think that plenty of people have things that they have no right to—­oh, like automobiles—­I mean, things that they haven’t earned.  And the men in Mr. Duncan’s club say that it’s perfectly right to take things away from people who have too much and give them to people who have too little.  But I say that may be all right for grown people but when children do it, it’s just plain stealing.  And that’s all there is to it!  But I wanted you to know that Arthur thought it was right—­well sort of right, you understand—­when he took those things.  You don’t think so now, do you, after the talking-to I’ve given you?” She turned severely on Arthur.

Arthur shuffled and looked embarrassed.  “No,” he said sheepishly, “not until you’re grown up.”

“But what I wanted to say next, Maida,” Rosie continued, “is, please not to tell Dicky.  He would be so surprised—­and then he wouldn’t keep the things that Arthur gave him.  And of course now that Arthur has paid for them—­they’re all right for him to have.”

“Of course I wouldn’t tell anybody,” Maida said in a shocked voice, “not even Granny or Billy—­not even my father.”

“Then that’s settled,” Rosie said with a sigh.  “Good night.”

The next day the following note reached Maida: 

    You are cordully invited to join the W.M.N.T.  Club which meets
    three times a week at the house of Miss Rosie Brine, or Mr.
    Richard Dore or Mr. Arthur Duncan.