ind it. The incident of the rubber
occurred to her. She felt a little troubled but she resolved to put
both circumstances out of her mind.

A day or two later, Arthur Duncan came in for the third time. It
happened that Granny was out marketing.

Piled on the counter was a stack of blank-books--pretty books they
were, with a child's head in color on the cover. Arthur asked for
letter-paper. Maida turned back to the shelf. With her hand on the
sliding door, she stopped, half-stunned.

_Reflected in the glass she saw Arthur Duncan stow one of the blank
books away in his pocket._

Maida felt sick all over. She did not know what to do. She did not
know what to say.

She fumbled with trembling hands among the things on the shelf. She
dreaded to turn for fear her face would express what she had seen.

"Perhaps he'll pay for it," she thought; "I hope he will."

But Arthur made no offer to pay. He looked over the letter-paper
that Maida, with downcast eyes, put before him, decided that he did
not want any after all, and walked coolly from the shop.

Granny, coming in a few moments later, was surprised to find Maida
leaning on the counter, her face buried in her hands.

"What's the matter with my lamb?" the old lady asked cheerfully.

"Nothing, Granny," Maida said. But she did not meet Granny's eye and
during dinner she was quiet and serious.

That night Billy Potter called. "Well, how goes the _Bon Marche of_
Charlestown?" he asked cheerfully.

"Billy," Maida said gravely, "if you found that a little boy--I can't
say what his name is--was stealing from you, what would you do?"

Billy considered the question as gravely as she had asked it. "Tell
the policeman on the beat and get him to throw a scare into him," he
said at last.

"I guess that's what I'll have to do." But Maida's tone was
mournful.

But Granny interrupted.

"Don't you do ut, my lamb--don't you do ut!" She turned to them
both--they had never seen her blue eyes so fiery before. "Suppose you
was one av these poor little chilthren that lives round here that's
always had harrd wurruds for their meals and hunger for their
pillow, wudn't you be afther staling yersilf if ut came aisy-loike
and nobody was luking?"

Neither Billy nor Maida spoke for a moment.

"I guess Granny's right," Billy said finally.

"I guess she is," Maida said with a sigh.

It was three days before Arthur Duncan came into the shop again. But
in the meantime, Maida went one