Rosie hesitated a moment. "Harold Lathrop says that you're daffy."

Maida said nothing.

"Arthur Duncan says," Rosie went on more timidly, "that you probably
dreamed those things."

Still Maida said nothing.

"Do you think you did dream them, Maida?"

Maida smiled. "No, I didn't dream them."

"Well, I thought of another thing," Rosie went on eagerly. "Miss
Allison told mother that Granny told her that you'd been sick for a
long time. And I thought, maybe you were out of your head and
imagined those things. Oh, Maida," Rosie's voice actually coaxed her
to favor this theory, "don't you think you imagined them?"

Maida laughed. "No, Rosie," she said in her quietest voice, "I did
not imagine them."

For a moment neither of the two little girls spoke. But they stared,
a little defiantly, into each other's eyes.

"What did Dicky say?" Maida asked after awhile.

"Oh, Dicky said he would believe anything you told him, no matter
what it was. Dicky says he believes you're a princess in
disguise--like in fairy-tales."

"Dear, dear Dicky!" Maida said. "He was the first friend I made in
Primrose Court and I guess he's the best one."

"Well, I guess I'm your friend," Rosie said, firing up; "I told that
little smarty-cat of a Laura if she ever said one word against you,
I'd slap her good and hard. Only--only--it seems strange that a little
girl who's just like the rest of us should have story-book things
happening to her all the time. If it's true--then fairy-tales are
true." She paused and looked Maida straight in the eye. "I can't
believe it, Maida. But I know you believe it. And that's all there
is to it. But you'd better believe I'm your friend."

Saying which she marched out.

Maida's second trouble began that night.

It had grown dark. Suddenly, without any warning, the door of the
shop flew open. For an instant three or four voices filled the place
with their yells. Then the door shut. Nothing was heard but the
sound of running feet.

Granny and Maida rushed to the door. Nobody was in sight.

"Who was it? What does it mean, Granny?" Maida asked in
bewilderment. "Only naughty b'ys, taysing you," Granny explained.

Maida had hardly seated herself when the performance was repeated.
Again she rushed to the door. Again she saw nobody. The third time
she did not stir from her chair.

Tuesday night the same thing happened. Who the boys were Maida could
not find out. Why they bothered her, she could not guess