to say, Posie. I can’t have this getting into the papers, you know.
To prevent that, you’re to play a game while you’re working in the
shop—just as princesses in fairy-tales had to play games sometimes.
You’re going _in disguise_. Do you understand?”

“Yes, father, I understand.”

“You’re to pretend that you belong to Granny Flynn, that you’re her
grandchild. You won’t have to tell any lies about it. When the
children in the neighborhood hear you call her ‘Granny,’ they’ll
simply take it for granted that you’re her son’s child.

“Or I can pretend I’m poor Granny’s lost daughter’s little girl,”
Maida suggested.

“If you wish. Billy Potter’s going to stay here in Boston and help
you. You’re to call on him, Posie, if you get into any snarl. But I
hope you’ll try to settle all your own difficulties before turning
to anybody else. Do you understand?”

“Yes, father. Father, dear, I’m so happy. Does Granny know?”

“Yes.”

Maida heaved an ecstatic sigh. “I’m afraid I shan’t get to sleep
to-night—just thinking of it.”

But she did sleep and very hard—the best sleep she had known since
her operation. And she dreamed that she opened a shop—a big shop
this was—on the top of a huge white cloud. She dreamed that her