ve it?" he asked
impudently.

Maida was thoroughly angry. But something inside warned her that she
must not give way to temper. For all her life, she had been
accustomed to think before she spoke. Indeed, she herself had never
been driven or scolded. Her father had always reasoned with her.
Doctors and nurses had always reasoned with her. Even Granny had
always reasoned with her. So, now, she thought very carefully before
she spoke again. But she kept her eyes fixed on Arthur. His eyes did
not move from hers but, in some curious way, she knew that he was
uneasy.

"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--