Maggie answered with a high and nervous giggle, “Oh, lor’, Miss Polly! that there ain’t; and there’s nothing but broken victuals either on the table by now. We was all hungry, you know, Miss Polly.”
“So perhaps,” continued Polly, “you would go downstairs again, Aunt Maria. Helen, will you take Aunt Maria to the drawing-room? I will come as soon as I see the supper things put away. Helen, why do you look at me like that? What’s the matter?”
“Oh, Polly!” said Helen, in her most reproachful tones.
She was turning away, but Aunt Maria caught her rather roughly by the shoulder.
“Do all this numerous party belong to the family?” she said. “I see here present thirteen children. I never knew before that my sister had such an enormous family.”
Helen felt in far too great a state of collapse to make any reply; but Polly’s saucy, glib tones were again heard.
“These are our visitors, Aunt Maria. Allow me to introduce them. Master and Miss Ricketts, Masters Tom, Jim, and Peter Jones. This is Maggie, my satellite, and devoted friend, and—and——”
But Aunt Maria’s patience had reached its tether. She was a stout, heavily made woman, and when she walked into the center of Polly’s garrison she quickly dispersed it.
“March!” she said, laying her hand heavily on the girl’s shoulder. “To your room this instant. Come, I shall see you there, and lock you in. You are a very bad, wicked, heartless girl, and I am bitterly ashamed of you. To your room this minute. While your father is away you are under my control, and I insist on being obeyed.”
“Oh, lor’!” gasped Maggie. “Run,” she whispered to her brother and sister. “Make for the door, quick. Oh, ain’t it awful! Oh, poor dear Miss Polly! Why, that dreadful old lady will almost kill her.”