of eyes that were a twinkling, youthful blue. And her down-turned
nose and up-growing chin could not conceal or mar the lovely
sweetness of her smile.

Just before Maida went to bed that night, she was surprised by a
visit from her father.

“Posie,” he said, sitting down on her bed, “did you really mean it
to-day when you said you would like to keep a little shop?”

“Oh, yes, father! I’ve been thinking it over ever since I came home
from our ride this afternoon. A little shop, you know, just like the
one we saw to-day.”

“Very well, dear, you shall keep a shop. You shall keep that very
one. I’m going to buy out the business for you and put you in charge
there. I’ve got to be in New York pretty steadily for the next three
months and I’ve decided that I’ll send you and Granny to live in the
rooms over the shop. I’ll fix the place all up for you, give you
plenty of money to stock it and then I expect you to run it and make
it pay.”

Maida sat up in bed with a vigor that surprised her father. She
shook her hands—a gesture that, with her, meant great delight. She
laughed. It was the first time in months that a happy note had
pealed in her laughter. “Oh, father, dear, how good you are to me!
I’m just crazy to try it and I know I can make it pay—if hard work
helps.”

“All right. That’s settled. But listen carefully to what I’m going