“Maida,” her father said gravely, “that is a very thoughtful gift. It’s strange when you come to think of it, as busy a man as I am and with all the friends I have, nobody has ever thought to give me a safety razor.”
“I don’t know how I ever managed to get along without one,” Dr. Pierce declared, his curls bobbing.
“As for me—I shall probably save about a third of my income in the future,” Billy announced.
All three were so pleased that they laughed for a long time.
“I’m going to give you another Christmas present, Maida,” Mr. Westabrook said suddenly, “I’m going to give us both one—a vacation. We’re going to start for Europe, week after next.”
“Oh, papa, papa, how lovely!” Maida said. “Shall we see Venice again? But how can I give up my little shop and my friends?”
“Maida going away!” the children exclaimed. “Oh, dear! oh, dear!” “But Mr. Westabrook, isn’t Maida coming back again?” Rosie asked. “How I shall miss her!” Laura chimed in.
“Take my lamb away,” Granny wailed. “Sure, she’ll be tuk sick in those woild counthries! You’ll have to take me wid you, Misther Westabrook—only—only—” She did not finish her sentence but her eyes went anxiously to her daughter’s face.
“No, Granny, you’re not to go,” Mr. Westabrook said decisively; “You’re to stay right here with your daughter and her children. You’re all to run the shop and live over it. Maida’s old enough and well enough to take care of herself now. And I think she’d better begin to take care of me as well. Don’t you think so, Maida?”
“Of course I do, papa. If you need me, I want to.”