The School Queens Part 31

Martin, her father's treasures to my daughter, Margaret Howland."

"Thank you, mother," said Maggie.

The date was affixed. Mrs. Howland added the name she was so soon to resign, and Maggie almost skipped into the bedroom.

"It's all right now," she said to herself.

She unlocked her trunk, also unlocking one of the tin boxes. In the box which contained the twelve bracelets she put the piece of paper in her mother's handwriting. She then relocked the box, relocked the trunk, and came back to her mother, restored to perfect good-humor.

Maggie was in her element when she was planning things. Yesterday was a day of despair, but to-day was a day of hope. She sat down by her mother's desk and wrote a long letter to Molly Tristram, in which she told Molly that her mother was about to be married again to a very rich man. She mentioned the coming marriage in a few brief words, and then went on to speak of herself, and of how delightful it would be to welcome Molly and Isabel when they arrived at Aylmer House. Not by the faintest suggestion did she give her friend to understand the step down in the social scale which Mrs. Howland's marriage with Mr. Martin meant.

Having finished her letter, she thought for a minute, then wrote a careful line to Merry Cardew. She did not tell Merry about her mother's approaching marriage, but said that Molly would have news for her. In other respects her letter to Merry was very much more confidential than her letter to Molly. She a.s.sured Merry of her deep love, and begged of her friend to regard this letter as quite private.

"If you feel you must show it to people, tear it up rather than do so," said Maggie, "for I cannot bear that our great and sacred love each for the other should be commented on."

When Merry received the letter she neither showed it to any one else nor tore it up. She could not forget Maggie's face as she parted from her, and the fact that she had refused to accept the ten pounds which the little girl had wanted to give her in order to remove her from musty, fusty lodgings had raised Maggie considerably in her friend's estimation.

Meanwhile Maggie Howland, having finished her letters, went out and posted them. She then changed her sovereign, and bought some excellent and appetizing fruit and cakes for her mother's and Mr. Martin's tea.

She consulted with Tildy as to how these dainties were to be arranged, and Tildy entered into the spirit of the thing with effusion, and declared that they were perfect crowns of beauty, and that most a.s.suredly they would melt in Mr. Martin's mouth.

On hearing this Maggie hastened to change the conversation; but when she had impressed upon Tildy the all-importance of a snowy cloth being placed upon the ugly tray, and further begged of her to polish up the teapot and spoons, Tildy thought that Miss Maggie was more wonderful than ever.

"With them as is about to step into the life-matrimonial, pains should be took," thought Tildy, and she mentioned her sentiments to Mrs.

Ross, who shook her head sadly, and replied that one ought to do the best one could for the poor things.

At three o'clock Maggie put on her hat, drew her gloves on, and, taking up a parasol, went out.

"Good-bye, darling," she said to her mother.

After all, she did not go to Richmond; it was too far off, and she was feeling a little tired. Besides, the thought of her father's wonderful treasures filled her mind. She determined to go to South Kensington and look at similar jewels and ornaments which she believed she could find there. It occurred to her, too, that it might be possible some day to consult the manager of the jewel department with regard to the worth of the things which her dear father had sent home; but this she would not do to-day.

Her visit to the South Kensington Museum made her feel positively a.s.sured that she had articles of great value in the tin boxes.

Meanwhile Mrs. Howland waited impatiently for Mr. Martin. She was puzzled about Maggie, and yet relieved. She wondered much what Maggie could have said to Mr. Martin that day when she breakfasted with him.

She was not really alarmed. But had she been able to look into Mr.

Martin's mind she would have felt a considerable amount of surprise.

The worthy grocer, although an excellent man of business, knew little or nothing about law. Maggie's words had made him distinctly uncomfortable. Suppose, after all, the girl could claim a right in her father's beggarly hundred and fifty pounds a year? Perhaps the child of the man who had settled that little income on his wife must have some sort of right to it? It would be horrible to consult lawyers; they were so terribly expensive, too.

There was a man in the shop, however, of the name of Howard. He was the princ.i.p.al shopwalker, and Mr. Martin had a great respect for him.

Without mentioning names, he put the case before him--as he himself expressed it--in a nutsh.e.l.l.

Howard thought for a few minutes, then said slowly that he had not the slightest doubt that a certain portion of the money should be spent on the child--in fact, that the child had a right to it.

Martin did not like this. A heavy frown came between his brows. The girl was a smart and clever girl, not a bit like Little-sing, and she could make herself very disagreeable. Her modest request for sixty pounds a year did not seem unreasonable. He thought and thought, and the more he thought the more inclined he felt to give Maggie her way.

When he arrived at Mrs. Ross's house he did not look quite as cheerful as usual. He went upstairs, as Tildy expressed it, "heavy-like"; and although both she and Mrs. Ross watched for that delightful scene when he was "Bo-peep" to "Little-sing," Martin entered the drawing-room without making any exhibition of himself. The room looked quite clean and inviting, for Maggie had dusted it with her own hands, and there was a very nice tea on the board, and Mrs. Howland was dressed very prettily indeed. Martin gave a long whistle.

"I say, Little-sing," he remarked, "whoever has been and done it?"

"What do you mean, James?" said Mrs. Howland.

"Why, the place," said Martin; "it looks sort of different."

"Oh, it's Maggie," said Mrs. Howland. "She went out and bought all those cakes for you herself."

"Bless me, now, did she?" said Martin. "She's a smart girl--a _ver_-ry smart girl."

"She's a very clever girl, James."

"Yes, that's how I put it--very clever. She has a way about her."

"She has, James. Every one thinks so."

"Well, Little-sing, give me a good meal, and then we'll talk."

Mrs. Howland lifted the teapot and was preparing to pour out a cup of tea for Mr. Martin, when he looked at her, noticed her extreme elegance and grace, and made a spring toward her.

"You haven't give Bo-peep one kiss yet, you naughty Little-sing."

Mrs. Howland colored as she kissed him. Of course she liked him very much; but somehow Maggie had brought a new atmosphere into the house.

Even Mrs. Howland felt it.

"Let's eat, let's eat," said Martin. "I never deny myself the good things of life. That girl knows a thing or two. She's a ver-ry clever girl."

"She is, James; she is."

"Now, what on earth do you call me James for? Ain't I Bo-peep--ain't I?"

"Yes, Bo-peep, of course you are."

"And you are Little-sing. You're a wonderfully elegant-looking woman for your years, Victoria."

CHAPTER XIV.

IN THE PARK.

Mrs. Howland did not like to have her years mentioned. Mr. Martin had been careful never to do so until Maggie appeared on the scene. On the contrary, he had dropped hints that his birdling, his Little-sing, his Victoria, was in the early bloom of youth. But now he said that she was a wonderful woman for her years.

Mrs. Howland bridled slightly. "I am not old, James," she said.

"Come, come," said the good-natured grocer; "no 'Jamesing' of me. I'm your Bo-peep. What does it matter whether you are old or young, Victoria, if you suit me and I suit you? This is a first-rate tea, and that girl's clever--uncommon clever. By the way, how old may she happen to be?"

"Sixteen her last birthday," said Mrs. Howland. "I was very, very young, a mere child, when I married, James."

"There you are with your 'James' again! Strikes me, you're a bit huffy to-day, Little-sing."