ad
evenings until he learns how. You see his mother comes home then and
he can leave the baby with her. Oh, do let me do it, Granny! I'm
sure I could. And I really think you ought to. For, if you'll excuse
me for saying so, Granny, I don't think you can understand as well
as I do what a difference it will make." She turned to the boy.
"Have you read 'Little Men' and 'Little Women'?"

"No--why, I'm only in the first reader."

"I'll read them to you," Maida said decisively, "and 'Treasure
Island' and 'The Princes and the Goblins' and 'The Princess and
Curdie.'" She reeled off the long list of her favorites.

In the meantime, Granny was considering the matter. Dr. Pierce had
said to her of Maida: "Let her do anything that she wants to do--as
long as it doesn't interfere with her eating and sleeping. The main
thing to do is to get her _to want to do things_."

"What's your name, my lad?" she asked.

"Dicky Dore, ma'am," the boy answered respectfully.

"Well, Oi don't see why you shouldn't thry ut, acushla," she said to
Maida. "A half an hour iv'ry avening after dinner. Sure, in a wake,
'twill be foine and grand we'll be wid the little store running like
a clock."

"We'll begin next week, Monday," Maida said eagerly. "You come over
here right after dinner."

"All right." The little lame boy looked very happy but, again, he
did not seem to know what to say. "Thank you, ma'am," he brought out
finally. "And you, too," turning to Maida.

"My name's Maida."

"Thank you, Maida," the boy said with even a greater display of
bashfulness. He settled the crutches under his thin shoulders.

"Oh, don't go, yet," Maida pleaded. "I want to ask you some
questions. Tell me the names of those dear little girls--the twins."

Dicky Dore smiled his radiant smile. "Their last name's Clark. Say,
ain't they the dead ringers for each other? I can't tell Dorothy
from Mabel or Mabel from Dorothy."

"I can't, either," Maida laughed. "It must be fun to be a twin--to
have any kind of a sister or brother. Who's that big boy--the one
with the hair all hanging down on his face?"

"Oh, that's Arthur Duncan." Dicky's whole face shone. "He's a dandy.
He can lick any boy of his size in the neighborhood. I bet he could
lick any boy of his size in the world. I bet he could lick his
weight in wild-cats."

Maida's brow wrinkled. "I don't like him," she said. "He's not
polite."

"Well, I like him," Dicky Dore maintained stoutly. "He's the best