Children of the rich -- Juvenile fiction; Girls -- Juvenile fiction; Sick children -- Juvenile fiction
Maida burst into a shriek of laughter and scrambled upstairs. “I’m
going to marry a jack-o’-lantern,” she said. “My name’s going to be
Mrs. Jack Pumpkin.”
“I’m going to marry Laura’s sailor-doll,” Rosie confessed. “My name
is Mrs. Yankee Doodle.”
“I’m going to marry Laura’s big doll, Queenie,” Arthur admitted.
“And I’m going to marry Harold’s Teddy-bear,” Dicky said.
After that they blew soap-bubbles and roasted apples and chestnuts,
popped corn and pulled candy at the great fireplace in the playroom.
And at Maida’s request, just before they left, Laura danced for
them.
“Will you help me to get on my costume, Maida?” Laura asked.
“Of course,” Maida said, wondering.
“I asked you to come down here, Maida,” Laura said when the two
little girls were alone, “because I wanted to tell you that I am
sorry for the way I treated you just before I got diphtheria. I told
my mother about it and she said I did those things because I was
coming down sick. She said that people are always fretty and cross
when they’re not well. But I don’t think it was all that. I guess I
did it on purpose just to be disagreeable. But I hope you will
excuse me.”
“Of course I will, Laura,” Maida said heartily. “And I hope you will
forgive me for going so long without speaking to you. But you see I
heard,” she stopped and hesitated, “things,” she ended lamely.
“Oh, I know what you heard. I said those things about you to the
W.M.N.T.’s so that they’d get back to you. I wanted to hurt your
feelings.” Laura in her turn stopped and hesitated for an instant.
“I was jealous,” she finally confessed in a burst. “But I want you
to understand this, Maida. I didn’t believe those horrid things
myself. I always have a feeling inside when people are telling lies
and I didn’t have that feeling when you were talking to me. I knew
you were telling the truth. And all the time while I was getting
well, I felt so dreadfully about it that I knew I never would be
happy again unless I told you so.”
“I did feel bad when I heard those things,” Maida said, “but of
course I forgot about them when Rosie told me you were ill. Let’s
forget all about it again.”
But Maida told the W.M.N.T.’s something of her talk with Laura and
the result was an invitation to Laura to join the club. It was
accepted gratefully.
The next month went by on wings. It was a busy month although in a
way, it was an uneventful one. The weather kept clear and fine.
Little rain fell but, on the other hand, to the great disappointment
of the little people of Primrose Court, there was no snow. Maida saw
nothing of her father for business troubles kept him in New York. He
wrote constantly to her and she wrote as faithfully to him. Letters
could not quite fill the gap that his absence made. Perhaps Billy
suspected Maida’s secret loneliness for he came oftener and oftener
to see her.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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