Dr. Pierce called early one morning. His eyes opened wide when they
fell upon her. “Well, well, Pinkwink,” he said. “What do you mean by
bringing me way over here! I thought you were supposed to be a sick
young person. Where’d you get that color?”

A flush like that of a pink sweet-pea blossom had begun to show in
Maida’s cheek. It was faint but it was permanent.

“Why, you’re the worst fraud on my list. If you keep on like this,
young woman, I shan’t have any excuse for calling. You’ve done fine,
Granny.”

Granny looked, as Dr. Pierce afterwards said, “as tickled as Punch.”

“How do you like shop-keeping?” Dr. Pierce went on.

“Like it!” Maida plunged into praise so swift and enthusiastic that
Dr. Pierce told her to go more slowly or he would put a bit in her
mouth. But he listened attentively. “Well, I see you’re not tired of
it,” he commented.

“Tired!” Maida’s indignation was so intense that Dr. Pierce shook
until every curl bobbed.

“And I get so hungry,” she went on. “You see I have to wait until
two o’clock sometimes before I can get my lunch, because from twelve
to two are my busy hours. Those days it seems as if the school bell
would never ring.”