“I shall have a sale like this once a week in the future,” Maida said. “Why, Granny, lots and lots of children came here who’d never been in the shop before.” And so what looked like serious trouble ended very happily. Trouble number three was a great deal more serious and it did not, at first, promise to end well at all. It had to do with Arthur Duncan. It had been going on for a week before Maida mentioned it to anybody. But it haunted her very dreams. Early Monday morning, Arthur came into the shop. In his usual gruff voice and with his usual surly manner, he said, “Show me some of those rubbers in the window.” Maida took out a handful of the rubbers—five, she thought—and put them on the counter. While Arthur looked them over, she turned to replace a paper-doll which she had knocked down. “Guess I won’t take one to-day,” Arthur said, while her back was still turned, and walked out. When Maida put the rubbers back, she discovered that there were only four. She made up her mind that she had not counted right and thought no more of the incident. Two days later, Arthur Duncan came in again. Maida had just been selling some pencils—pretty striped ones with a blue stone in the end. Three of them were left lying out on the counter. Arthur asked her to show him some penholders. Maida took three from the shelves back of her. He bought one of these. After he had gone, she discovered that there were only two pencils left on the counter. “One of them must have rolled off,” Maida thought. But although she looked everywhere, she could not find 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.