“What else did you say to him?”
“Well, mother darling, I said what I thought right.”
“Oh, of course you won’t confide in me.”
“I think not. I will let him do that. He is coming to tea this afternoon, and he has given me a sovereign”—how Maggie felt inclined to kick that sovereign!—“to go and have some pleasure somewhere. So I mean to take the train to Richmond, and perhaps get a boatman to take me out on the river for a little.”
“He is certainly more playful and amusing when you are not here,” said Mrs. Howland, a faint smile dawning on her face.
“I am certain of that,” said Maggie; “and what’s more, he is very fond of good living. I mean to go out presently and get some excellent things for his tea.”
“Will you, Maggie? Will you, my child? Why, that will be quite sweet of you.”
“I will do it with pleasure, mother. But now I want you to do something for me.”
“Ah,” said Mrs. Howland, “I thought you were coming to that.”
“Well, it is this,” said Maggie. “When he talks to you about me, don’t oppose him. He will most probably propound a scheme to you, as his own perhaps; and you are to be quite certain to let him think that it is his own scheme. And you might make out to him, mother, that I am really very disagreeable, and that nothing in all the world would make me anything else. And if you are a very wise little mother you will tell him that you are happier alone with him.”