After all, she did not go to Richmond; it was too far off, and she was feeling a little tired. Besides, the thought of her father’s wonderful treasures filled her mind. She determined to go to South Kensington and look at similar jewels and ornaments which she believed she could find there. It occurred to her, too, that it might be possible some day to consult the manager of the jewel department with regard to the worth of the things which her dear father had sent home; but this she would not do to-day.
Her visit to the South Kensington Museum made her feel positively assured that she had articles of great value in the tin boxes.
Meanwhile Mrs. Howland waited impatiently for Mr. Martin. She was puzzled about Maggie, and yet relieved. She wondered much what Maggie could have said to Mr. Martin that day when she breakfasted with him. She was not really alarmed. But had she been able to look into Mr. Martin’s mind she would have felt a considerable amount of surprise. The worthy grocer, although an excellent man of business, knew little or nothing about law. Maggie’s words had made him distinctly uncomfortable. Suppose, after all, the girl could claim a right in her father’s beggarly hundred and fifty pounds a year? Perhaps the child of the man who had settled that little income on his wife must have some sort of right to it? It would be horrible to consult lawyers; they were so terribly expensive, too.
There was a man in the shop, however, of the name of Howard. He was the principal shopwalker, and Mr. Martin had a great respect for him. Without mentioning names, he put the case before him—as he himself expressed it—in a nutshell.
Howard thought for a few minutes, then said slowly that he had not the slightest doubt that a certain portion of the money should be spent on the child—in fact, that the child had a right to it.
Martin did not like this. A heavy frown came between his 100 brows. The girl was a smart and clever girl, not a bit like Little-sing, and she could make herself very disagreeable. Her modest request for sixty pounds a year did not seem unreasonable. He thought and thought, and the more he thought the more inclined he felt to give Maggie her way.
When he arrived at Mrs. Ross’s house he did not look quite as cheerful as usual. He went upstairs, as Tildy expressed it, “heavy-like”; and although both she and Mrs. Ross watched for that delightful scene when he was “Bo-peep” to “Little-sing,” Martin entered the drawing-room without making any exhibition of himself. The room looked quite clean and inviting, for Maggie had dusted it with her own hands, and there was a very nice tea on the board, and Mrs. Howland was dressed very prettily indeed. Martin gave a long whistle.
“I say, Little-sing,” he remarked, “whoever has been and done it?”
“What do you mean, James?” said Mrs. Howland.
“Why, the place,” said Martin; “it looks sort of different.”