customers were all little boy and girl angels with floating, golden
curls and shining rainbow-colored wings. She dreamed that she sold
nothing but cake. She used to cut generous slices from an angel-cake
as big as the golden dome of the Boston state house. It was very
delicious—all honey and jelly and ice cream on the inside, and all
frosting, stuck with candies and nuts and fruits, on the outside.

----------------------

The people on Warrington Street were surprised to learn in the
course of a few days that old Mrs. Murdock had sold out her business
in the little corner store. For over a week, the little place was
shut up. The school children, pouring into the street twice a day,
had to go to Main Street for their candy and lead pencils. For a
long time all the curtains were kept down. Something was going on
inside, but what, could not be guessed from the outside. Wagons
deposited all kinds of things at the door, rolls of paper, tins of
paint, furniture, big wooden boxes whose contents nobody could
guess. Every day brought more and more workmen and the more there
were, the harder they worked. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, all
the work stopped.

The next morning when the neighborhood waked up, a freshly-painted
sign had taken the place over the door of the dingy old black and
white one. The lettering was gilt, the background a skyey blue. It
read:

MAIDA’S LITTLE SHOP