broke my arm."

Maida's eyes brightened. "And there's the garret window where the
squirrels used to come in," she exclaimed.

"The same!" Dr. Pierce laughed. "You don't forget anything, do you?
My goodness me! How small the house looks and how narrow the street
has grown! Even the trees aren't as tall as they should be."

Maida stared. The trees looked very high indeed to her. And she
thought the street quite wide enough for anybody, the houses very
stately.

"Now show me the school," she begged.

"Just a block or two, Henri," Dr. Pierce directed.

The car stopped in front of a low, rambling wooden building with a
yard in front.

"That's where you covered the ceiling with spit-balls," Maida asked.

"The same!" Dr. Pierce laughed heartily at the remembrance. It
seemed to Maida that she had never seen his curls bob quite so
furiously before.

"It's one of the few wooden, primary buildings left in the city," he
explained to the two men. "It can't last many years now. It's
nothing but a rat-trap but how I shall hate to see it go!"

Opposite the school was a big, wide court. Shaded with beautiful
trees--maples beginning to flame, horse-chestnuts a little browned,
it was lined with wooden toy houses, set back of fenced-in yards and
veiled by climbing vines. Pigeons were flying about, alighting now
and then to peck at the ground or to preen their green and purple
necks. Boys were spinning tops. Girls were jumping rope. The dust
they kicked up had a sweet, earthy smell in Maida's nostrils. As she
stared, charmed with the picture, a little girl in a scarlet cape
and a scarlet hat came climbing up over one of the fences. Quick,
active as a squirrel, she disappeared into the next yard.

"Primrose Court!" Dr. Pierce exclaimed. "Well, well, well!"

"Primrose Court," Maida repeated. "Do primroses grow there?"

"Bless your heart, no," Dr. Pierce laughed; "it was named after a
man called Primrose who used to own a great deal of the
neighborhood."

But Maida was scarcely listening. "Oh, what a cunning little shop!"
she exclaimed. "There, opposite the court. What a perfectly darling
little place!"

"Good Lord! that's Connors'," Dr. Pierce explained. "Many a reckless
penny I've squandered there, my dear. Connors was the funniest, old,
bent, dried-up man. I wonder who keeps it now."

As if in answer to his question, a wrinkled old lady came to the
window to take a paper-doll from the dusty display there.

"What are t