“Yes, um,” said Tildy; “but me and Mrs. Ross thought as Miss Maggie ’u’d want ’em.”
Mrs. Howland glanced at her daughter. Then all of a sudden, and quite unexpectedly, her faded face grew red. She perceived an expression of inquiry in Maggie’s eyes which rather frightened her.
“It’s all right,” she said. “Now that you’ve brought the things up, Tildy, leave them here, and go. When Mr. Martin comes, show him up. Now leave us, and be quick about it.”
Tildy departed, slamming the door behind her.
“How noisy that girl is!” said Mrs. Howland. “Well, I am better now; I’ll just go into our bedroom and get tidy. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I mustn’t be seen looking this fright when Mr. Martin comes.”
“But who is Mr. Martin?” said Maggie.
“You will know presently,” said Mrs. Howland. “It’s about him that I have news.”
Maggie felt her heart thumping in a very uncomfortable manner. The bedroom which she and her mother shared together—that is, when Maggie was with her mother—was at the back of the drawing-room. Mrs. Howland remained there for about five minutes, and during that time Maggie helped herself to a cup of tea, for she was feverishly hot and thirsty.
Her mother returned at the end of five minutes, looking wonderfully better, and in fact quite rejuvenated. Her dress was fairly neat. She had a slight color in her pale cheeks which considerably brightened her light-blue eyes. Her faded hair was arranged with some neatness, and she had put on a white blouse and a blue alpaca skirt.
“Oh mother,” said Maggie, hailing this change with great relief, “how much better you look now! I am a comfort to you, am I not, mums? I sha’n’t mind coming back and giving up all my fun if I am a real comfort to you.”