to take no notuce av ut.”

“Take no notice of it!” Maida stormed. “It’s just like not taking
any notice of a bee when it’s stinging you.”

Maida was so angry that she walked into the living-room without
limping.

At four that afternoon, when the children came out of school, there
was another flurry of trade. Towards five, it slackened. Maida sat
in her swivel-chair and wistfully watched the scene in the court.
Little boys were playing top. Little girls were jumping rope. Once
she saw a little girl in a scarlet cape come out of one of the
yards. On one shoulder perched a fluffy kitten. Following her,
gamboled an Irish setter and a Skye terrier. Presently it grew dark
and the children began to go indoors. Maida lighted the gas and lost
herself in “Gulliver’s Travels.”

The sound of voices attracted her attention after awhile. She turned
in her chair. Outside, staring into the window, stood a little boy
and girl—a ragged, dirty pair. Their noses pressed so hard against
the glass that they were flattened into round white circles. They
took no notice of Maida. Dropping her eyes to her book, she
pretended to read.

“I boneys that red top, first,” said the little boy in a piping
voice.

He was a round, brown, pop-eyed, big-mouthed little creature. Maida
could not decide which he looked most like—a frog or a brownie. She