“Oh, do.”

Rosie wound one of them with an expert hand. Then with a quick dash
forward of her whole arm, she threw the top to the floor. It danced
there, humming like a whole hiveful of bees.

“Oh, how lovely!” Maida exclaimed. Then in fervent admiration: “What
a wonderful girl you are!”

Rosie smiled. “Easy as pie if you know how. Want to learn?”

“Oh, will you teach me?”

“Sure! Begin now.”

Maida limped from behind the counter. Rosie watched her. Rosie’s
face softened with the same pity that had shone on the frightened
little dog.

“She’s sorry for me,” Maida thought. “How sweet she looks!”

But Rosie said nothing about Maida’s limp. She explained the process
of top-spinning from end to end, step by step, making Maida copy
everything that she did. At first Maida was too eager—her hands
actually trembled. But gradually she gained in confidence. At last
she succeeded in making one top spin feebly.

“Now you’ve got the hang of it,” Rosie encouraged her, “You’ll soon
learn. All you want to do is to practice. I’ll come to-morrow and
see how you’re getting on.”