aid--smiled benignantly at the
passers-by from the top of the heap. Standing about everywhere among
the lanterns were groups of little paper brownies, their tiny heads
turned upwards as if, in the greatest astonishment, they were
examining these monster beings.

The jack-o'-lanterns sold like hot cakes. As for the brownies,
"Granny, you'd think they were marching off the shelves!" Maida
said. By dark, she was diving breathlessly into her surplus stock.
At the first touch of twilight, she lighted every lantern left in
the place. Five minutes afterwards, a crowd of children had gathered
to gaze at the flaming faces in the window. Even the grown-ups
stopped to admire the effect.

More customers came and more--a great many children whom Maida had
never seen before. By six o'clock, she had sold out her entire
stock. When she sat down to dinner that night, she was a very happy
little girl.

"This is the best day I've had since I opened the shop," she said
contentedly. She was not tired, though. "I feel just like going to a
party to-night. Granny, can I wear my prettiest Roman sash?"

"You can wear annyt'ing you want, my lamb," Granny said, "for 'tis
the good, busy little choild you've been this day."

Granny dressed her according to Maida's choice, in white. A very,
simple, soft little frock, it was, with many tiny tucks made by hand
and many insertions of a beautiful, fine lace. Maida chose to wear
with it pale blue silk stockings and slippers, a sash of blue,
striped in pink and white, a string of pink Venetian beads.

"Now, Granny, I'll read until the children call for me," she
suggested, "so I won't rumple my dress."

But she was too excited to read. She sat for a long time at the
window, just looking out. Presently the jack-o'-lanterns, lighted
now, began to make blobs of gold in the furry darkness of the
street. She could not at first make out who held them. It was
strange to watch the fiery, grinning heads, flying, bodiless, from
place to place. But she identified the lanterns in the court by the
houses from which they emerged. The three small ones on the end at
the left meant Dicky and Molly and Tim. Two big ones, mounted on
sticks, came from across the way--Rosie and Arthur, of course. Two,
just alike, trotting side by side betrayed the Clark twins. A
baby-lantern, swinging close to the ground--that could be nobody but
Betsy.

The crowd in the Court began to march towards the shop. For an
instant, Maida w