eared.

The rain had stopped. The puddle was of monster size after so long a
storm. They came out just in time to help Molly fish Tim out of the
water and to prevent Betsy from giving a stray kitten a bath.
Following Rosie and Arthur, Maida waded through it from one end to
the other--it seemed the most perilous of adventures to her.

After that meeting, the W.M.N.T.'s were busier than they had ever
been. Every other afternoon, and always when it was bad weather,
they worked at Maida's house. Granny gave Maida a closet all to
herself and as fast as the things were finished they were put in
boxes and stowed away on its capacious shelves.

Arthur whittled and carved industriously. His work went slower than
Dicky's of course but, still, it went with remarkable quickness.
Maida often stopped her own work on the paper things to watch
Arthur's. It was a constant marvel to her that such big,
awkward-looking hands could perform feats of such delicacy. Her
own fingers, small and delicate as they were, bungled surprisingly
at times.

"And as for the paste," Maida said in disgust to Rosie one day,
"you'd think that I fell into the paste-pot every day. I wash it off
my hands and face. I pick it off of my clothes and sometimes Granny
combs it out of my hair."

Often after dinner, the W.M.N.T.'s would call in a body on Maida.
Then would follow long hours of such fun that Maida hated to hear
the clock strike nine. Always there would be molasses-candy making
by the capable Rosie at the kitchen stove and corn-popping by the
vigorous Arthur on the living-room hearth. After the candy had
cooled and the pop corn had been flooded in melted butter, they
would gather about the hearth to roast apples and chestnuts and to
listen to the fairy-tales that Maida would read.

The one thing which she could do and they could not was to read with
the ease and expression of a grown person. As many of her books were
in French as in English and it was the wonder of the other
W.M.N.T.'s that she could read a French story, translating as she
went. Her books were a delight to Arthur and Dicky and she lent them
freely. Rosie liked to listen to stories but she did not care to
read.

Maida was very happy nowadays. Laura was the only person in the
Court who had caused her any uneasiness. Since the day that Laura
had made herself so disagreeable, Maida had avoided her steadily.
Best of all, perhaps, Maida's health had improved so much that even
her limp