“You let her jump just one jump every morning and night, Granny,” Rosie advised, “and I’m sure it will be all right. That won’t hurt her any and, after awhile, she’ll find she can jump two, then three and so on. That’s the way I learned.”
Granny agreed to this. Maida practiced constantly, one jump in her nightgown, just before going to bed, and another, all dressed, just after she got up.
“I jumped three jumps this morning without failing, Granny,” she said one morning at breakfast. Within a few days the record climbed to five, then to seven, then, at a leap, to ten.
Dr. Pierce called early one morning. His eyes opened wide when they fell upon her. “Well, well, Pinkwink,” he said. “What do you mean by bringing me way over here! I thought you were supposed to be a sick young person. Where’d you get that color?”
A flush like that of a pink sweet-pea blossom had begun to show in Maida’s cheek. It was faint but it was permanent.
“Why, you’re the worst fraud on my list. If you keep on like this, young woman, I shan’t have any excuse for calling. You’ve done fine, Granny.”
Granny looked, as Dr. Pierce afterwards said, “as tickled as Punch.”
“How do you like shop-keeping?” Dr. Pierce went on.
“Like it!” Maida plunged into praise so swift and enthusiastic that Dr. Pierce told her to go more slowly or he would put a bit in her mouth. But he listened attentively. “Well, I see you’re not tired of it,” he commented.
“Tired!” Maida’s indignation was so intense that Dr. Pierce shook until every curl bobbed.