“But, Granny, dear,” Maida persisted, “can’t you think of one
single, naughty thing I did? I’m sure you can if you try hard.”

Maida’s face was touched with a kind of sad wistfulness. Granny
looked down at her, considerably puzzled. Then a light seemed to
break in her mind. It shone through her blue eyes and twinkled in
her smile.

“Sure and Oi moind wance when Oi was joost afther giving you some
medicine and you was that mad for having to take the stuff that you
sat oop in bed and knocked iv’ry bottle off the table. Iv’ry wan!
Sure, we picked oop glass for a wake afther.”

Maida’s wistful look vanished in a peal of silvery laughter. “Did I
really, Granny?” she asked in delight. “Did I break every bottle?
Are you sure? Every one?”

“Iv’ry wan as sure as OI’m a living sinner,” said Granny. “Faith and
’twas the bad little gyurl that you was often—now that I sthop to
t’ink av ut.”

Maida bounded back to the shop in high spirits. Granny heard her say
“Every bottle!” again and again in a whispering little voice.

“Just think, Granny,” she called after a while. “I’ve made one, two,
three, four, five friends—Dicky, Molly, Tim, Betsy and Laura—though
I don’t call her quite a friend yet. Pretty good for so soon!”

Maida was to make a sixth friend, although not quite so quickly.