important-sounding tinkle. Immediately after, the door shut with an
important-sounding slam. The footsteps, clattering across the room to
the show case, had an important-sounding tap. And the little girl, who
looked inquisitively across the counter at Maida, had decidedly an
important manner.

She was not a pretty child. Her skin was too pasty, her blue eyes
too full and staring. But she had beautiful braids of glossy brown
hair that came below her waist. And you would have noticed her at
once because of the air with which she wore her clothes and because
of a trick of holding her head very high.

Maida could see that she was dressed very much more expensively than
the other children in the neighborhood. Her dark, blue coat was
elaborate with straps and bright buttons. Her pale-blue beaver hat
was covered with pale-blue feathers. She wore a gold ring with a
turquoise in it, a silver bracelet with a monogram on it, a little
gun-metal watch pinned to her coat with a gun-metal pin, and a long
string of blue beads from which dangled a locket.

Maida noticed all this decoration with envy, for she herself was
never permitted to wear jewelry. Occasionally, Granny would let her
wear one string from a big box of bead necklaces which Maida had
bought in Venice.

“How much is that candy?” the girl asked, pointing to one of the
trays.

Maida told her.