After Maggie’s restless night she got up early. The day promised to be even hotter than the one before; but as the drawing-room faced west it was comparatively cool at this hour.
Tildy brought her favorite young lady a cup of tea, and suggested that she should go for an outing while Tildy herself freshened up the room. Maggie thought that a good idea, and when she found herself in the street her spirits rose a trifle.
A curious sort of fascination drew her in the direction of Martin’s shop. It was a very large corner shop, had several entrances, and at this early hour the young shopmen and shopwomen were busy dressing the windows; they were putting appetizing sweetmeats and cakes and biscuits and all kinds of delectable things in the different windows to tempt the passers-by.
Maggie felt a hot sense of burning shame rising to her cheeks as she passed the shop. She was about to turn back, when whom should she see standing in the doorway but the prosperous owner himself! He recognized her immediately, and called out to her in his full, pompous voice, “Come along here, Wopsy!”
The young shop-people turned to gaze in some wonder as the refined-looking girl approached the fat, loud-mannered man.
“I’m in a hurry back to breakfast with my mother,” said Maggie in her coldest voice.
“Well, then, I will come along with you, my dear; I am just in the mood. Little-sing, she will give me breakfast this morning. I’ll be back again in the shop soon after nine. It’s a fine shop, ain’t it, Popsy?”
“It does seem large,” said Maggie.
“It’s the sort of shop,” responded Martin, “that takes a deal of getting. It’s not done in a day, nor a month, nor a year. It takes a lifetime to build up premises like these. It means riches, my dear—riches.” He rolled out the words luxuriously.
“I am sure it does,” said Maggie, who felt that for her own sake she must humor him.