"Step-auntie, why are you so unkind to me?" The sweet brown eyes became slightly moist and the lovely rosy lips trembled.
"Affected little piece," said Mrs. O'Brien. "Now, you listen to me. Whatever you call yourself now, you will be a charity child soon, but I wish to give you a message. Tell that ridiculous old uncle of yours that as he chose to appropriate my phaeton and horse and my coachman to drive to Kingsala, I have made arrangements to go on most vital business to see Colonel Herbert at Rathclaren."
"Rathclaren!" cried Maureen; "but that's a long way off. You will never walk the nine miles, step-auntie."
"You hold your chatter. I know what I'm about. Jacobs has gone to fetch Farmer Barrett's young colt and dogcart. I'm going to drive there."
Maureen clasped her hands, and her pretty soft face turned white.
"Oh, step-auntie, don't—don't, I beg of you. The only colt that Farmer Barrett has got is The O'Shee, and he's not half nor quarter broken in yet. Oh, please, auntie, let me go for you. I will take any message you like. I'll bring Colonel Herbert to see you. Please, please, don't trust yourself to that high dogcart and Jacobs, who can hardly drive anything, and The O'Shee. I don't mind a bit walking nine miles, and I'll do it for you. Please let me."
But Mrs. O'Brien was too angry to be prudent.
"Charity child," she said, "go on with your dusting, and leave me alone. When your uncle returns, you will be able to tell him where I am. Now, I'm off to put on my finery. If you like to make yourself useful, which you never do like, you can come up with me to my bedroom and fasten my boots."
Maureen obeyed. Mrs. O'Brien's room was dainty, and fashionable-looking, and there were all sorts of silver brushes and boxes and trays on the table, and different condiments for improving the complexion and making the fiery blue eyes look more fiery than ever.
Little Maureen, bending down in her shabby frock, with her soft brown hair falling about her shoulders, made a strange contrast to the haughty dame. Several times she tried to speak again, to urge, to beg, to implore, but Mrs. O'Brien was now absorbed in her toilet. She wanted to make herself look very effective when she visited Colonel Herbert. At last she was dressed in a style which seemed to please her. She wore a silk dress of soft pink and a toque to match with that horrible osprey, which Maureen so hated, for she knew, she had learnt the terrible cruelty that takes place in obtaining the osprey. Although she was supposed to be uneducated, she was the sort of little girl who was always picking up odds and ends of knowledge. At last there came the clatter of wheels, the shout of Jacobs' voice, and the sound of a horse's hoofs as he trod the avenue.