“Italian and German—a very little.”
Laura stared hard at her and her look was full of question. But it was evident that she decided to believe Maida.
“I live in Primrose Court,” she said, and now there was not a shadow of condescension left in her voice. “That large house at the back with the big lawn about it. I’d like to have you come and play with me some afternoon. I’m very busy most of the time, though. I take music and fancy dancing and elocution. Next winter, I’m going to take up French. I’ll send you word some afternoon when I have time to play.”
“Thank you,” Maida said in her most civil voice. “Come and play with me sometime,” she added after a pause.
“Oh, my mother doesn’t let me play in other children’s houses,” Laura said airily. “Good-bye.”
“Good-bye,” Maida answered.
She waited until Laura had disappeared into the court. “Granny,” she called impetuously, “a little girl’s been here who I think is the hatefullest, horridest, disagreeablest thing I ever saw in my life.”
“Why, what did the choild do?” Granny asked in surprise.
“Do?” Maida repeated. “She did everything. Why, she—she—” She interrupted herself to think hard a moment. “Well, it’s the queerest thing. I can’t tell you a thing she did, Granny, and yet, all the time she was here I wanted to slap her.”
“There’s manny folks that-a-way,” said Granny. “The woisest way is to take no notuce av ut.”