.

"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.

"A cent's worth of dulse, please," she said airily.

"Dulse?" Maida repeated questioningly; "I guess I haven't any. What
is dulse?"

"Haven't any dulse?" Laura repeated with an appearance of being
greatly shocked. "Do you mean to say you haven't any dulse?"

Maida did not answer--she put her lips tight together.

"This is a healthy shop," Laura went on in a sneering tone, "no
mollolligobs, no apple-on-the-stick, no tamarinds, no pop-corn
balls, no dulse. Why don't you sell the things we want? Half the
children in the neighborhood are going down to Main Street to get
them now."

She bustled out of the shop. Maida stared after her with wide,
alarmed eyes. For a moment she did not stir. Then she ran into the
living-room and buried her face in Granny's lap, bursting into
tears.

"Oh, Granny," she sobbed, "Laura Lathrop says that half the children
don't like my shop and they're going down to Main Street to buy
things. What shall I do? What shall I do?"

"There, there, acushla," Granny said soothingly, taking the
trembling little girl on to her lap. "Don't worry about anny t'ing
that wan says. 'Tis a foine little shop you have, as all the grown
folks says."

"But, Granny," Maida protested passionately, "I don't want to please
the grown people, I want to please the children. And papa said I
must make the store pay. And now I'm afraid I never will. Oh, what
shall I do?"

She got no further. A tin