The School Queens Part 29

"There's one thing--and one thing only--I like about this, Popsy-wopsy," he said.

"And what is that?" asked Maggie.

"That you came to me on the matter instead of going to your mother; that you recognized the strength and force of my character."

"Oh, any one can see that," said Maggie.

"You put it straight, too, with regard to your own disagreeable nature."

"Yes, I put it straight," said Maggie.

"Well, all I can say at present is this: I will think it over. You go home to your mother now, and tell her that her Bo-peep will be in as usual to tea; and you, little girl, may as well make yourself scarce at that hour. Here's a sovereign for you. Go and have a jolly time somewhere."

"Oh, Mr. Martin, I"----began Maggie, her face crimson.

"You had best not put on airs," said Martin; and Maggie slipped the sovereign into her pocket.

When she reached her mother's lodgings she felt well a.s.sured that she had done the right thing. Hitherto she had been too stunned and miserable to use any of her power--that strange power which she possessed--on Mr. Martin. But she felt well a.s.sured that she could do so in the future. She had gauged his character correctly. He was hopelessly vulgar, but an absolutely good-natured and straight person.

"He will do what I wish," she thought. Her uneasiness vanished as soon as the first shock of her mother's disclosure was over. She entered the house.

"Why, missie?" said Tildy, "w'erehever 'ave you been? The breakfast's stony cold upstairs, and Mrs. 'Owland's cryin' like nothin' at all."

"Thank you, Tildy; I'll see mother immediately," said Maggie. "And I don't want any breakfast, for I've had it already."

"With the haristocracy?" asked Tildy in a low, awed kind of voice.

"You always was one o' they, Miss Maggie."

"No, not with the aristocracy," said Maggie, trying to suppress her feelings. "Tildy, your s.m.u.t is on your left cheek this morning. You can remove the breakfast-things, and I'll go up to mother."

Maggie ran upstairs. Mrs. Howland had eaten a little, very indifferent breakfast, and was looking weepy and washed-out as she sat in her faded dressing-gown near the open window.

"Really, Maggie," she said when her daughter entered, "your ways frighten me most terribly! I do wish poor Mr. Martin would insist on your coming to live with us. I shall never have an easy moment with your queer pranks and goings-on."

"I am sure you won't, dear mother," said Maggie. "But come, don't be cross with me. Here's Matilda; she'll clear away the breakfast-things in no time, and then I have something I want to say to you."

"Oh dear! my head is so weak this morning," said Mrs. Howland.

"If I were you, Miss Maggie," said Tildy as she swept the cups and saucers with noisy vehemence on to a tray, "I wouldn't worrit the poor mistress, and she just on the eve of a matrimonial venture. It's tryin' to the nerves, it is; so Mrs. Ross tells me. Says she, 'When I married Tom,' says she, 'I was on the twitter for a good month.' It's awful to think as your poor ma's so near the brink--for that's 'ow Mrs. Ross speaks o' matrimony."

"Please be quick, Tildy, and go," said Maggie in a determined voice.

Matilda cleared the table, but before she would take her departure she required definite instructions with regard to dinner, tea, and supper.

Mrs. Howland raised a distracted face. "Really, I can't think," she said, "my head is so weak."

"Well, mum," said Matilda, "s'pose as missus and me does the 'ousekeepin' for you to-day. You ain't fit, mum; it's but to look at you to know that. It's lyin' down you ought to be, with haromatic vinegar on your 'ead."

"You're quite right, Matilda. Well, you see to the things to-day. Have them choice, but not too choice; fairly expensive, but not too expensive, you understand."

"Yus, 'um," said Tildy, and left the room.

Maggie found herself alone with her mother. "Mother," she said eagerly, "now I will tell you why I was not home for breakfast this morning."

"Oh, it doesn't matter, Maggie," said Mrs. Howland; "I am too weak to be worried, and that's a fact."

"It won't worry you, mother. I breakfasted with Mr. Martin."

"What--what!" said Mrs. Howland, astonishment in her voice, and with eyebrows raised almost to meet her hair.

"And an excellent breakfast we had," said Maggie. "He isn't a bad sort at all, mother."

"Well, I am glad you've found that out. Do you suppose your mother would marry a man who was not most estimable in character?"

"He is quite estimable, mother; the only unfortunate thing against him is that he is not in your rank in life."

"A woman who lives in these rooms," said Mrs. Howland, "has no rank in life."

"Well, dear mother, I cannot agree with you. However, as I said, I breakfasted with him."

"Then you're coming round?" said Mrs. Howland. "You're going to be good, and a comfort to us both?"

"No, mother, I haven't come round a bit. When I was breakfasting with Mr. Martin I fully explained to him what a fearful trial I should be to him; how, day by day and hour by hour, I'd annoy him."

"You did that! Oh you wicked child!"

"I thought it best to be frank, mother. I made an impression on him. I did what I did as much for your sake as for mine."

"Then he'll break off the engagement--of course he will!" said Mrs.

Howland. She took a moist handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it to her eyes.

"Not he. He is just devoted to you, mother; you need have no such apprehension."

"What else did you say to him?"

"Well, mother darling, I said what I thought right."

"Oh, of course you won't confide in me."

"I think not. I will let him do that. He is coming to tea this afternoon, and he has given me a sovereign"--how Maggie felt inclined to kick that sovereign!--"to go and have some pleasure somewhere. So I mean to take the train to Richmond, and perhaps get a boatman to take me out on the river for a little."

"He is certainly more playful and amusing when you are not here," said Mrs. Howland, a faint smile dawning on her face.

"I am certain of that," said Maggie; "and what's more, he is very fond of good living. I mean to go out presently and get some excellent things for his tea."

"Will you, Maggie? Will you, my child? Why, that will be quite sweet of you."

"I will do it with pleasure, mother. But now I want you to do something for me."