“And what is that?” asked Maggie.
“That you came to me on the matter instead of going to your mother; that you recognized the strength and force of my character.” 93
“Oh, any one can see that,” said Maggie.
“You put it straight, too, with regard to your own disagreeable nature.”
“Yes, I put it straight,” said Maggie.
“Well, all I can say at present is this: I will think it over. You go home to your mother now, and tell her that her Bo-peep will be in as usual to tea; and you, little girl, may as well make yourself scarce at that hour. Here’s a sovereign for you. Go and have a jolly time somewhere.”
“Oh, Mr. Martin, I”––began Maggie, her face crimson.
“You had best not put on airs,” said Martin; and Maggie slipped the sovereign into her pocket.
When she reached her mother’s lodgings she felt well assured that she had done the right thing. Hitherto she had been too stunned and miserable to use any of her power—that strange power which she possessed—on Mr. Martin. But she felt well assured that she could do so in the future. She had gauged his character correctly. He was hopelessly vulgar, but an absolutely good-natured and straight person.
“He will do what I wish,” she thought. Her uneasiness vanished as soon as the first shock of her mother’s disclosure was over. She entered the house.