“Come, come,” said the good-natured grocer; “no ‘Jamesing’ of me. I’m your Bo-peep. What does it matter whether you are old or young, Victoria, if you suit me and I suit you? This is a first-rate tea, and that girl’s clever—uncommon clever. By the way, how old may she happen to be?”
“Sixteen her last birthday,” said Mrs. Howland. “I was very, very young, a mere child, when I married, James.”
“There you are with your ‘James’ again! Strikes me, you’re a bit huffy to-day, Little-sing.”
“No, I am not; only I’ve been worried since Maggie came back. She was so rude to you yesterday. I felt it terribly.”
“Did you now? Well, that was very sensible of you. We’ll finish our tea before we begin our talk. Come, Little-sing, eat your cake and drink your tea, and make yourself agreeable to your Bo-peep.”
Mrs. Howland felt cheered. She did enjoy her meal; and, if she liked it, Mr. Martin liked it immensely also.
“What a useful girl that would be!” he said. “We could make her housekeeper at Laburnum Villa in no time. She has a head on her shoulders.”
Mrs. Howland was silent. She was dreading inexpressibly the little scene which she felt must be endured between her and her intended.
“We’ll ring the bell now,” said Martin, wiping a few crumbs from his mouth and dusting his trousers with his pocket-handkerchief. “We’ll get Tildy to remove all these things, and then what do you say to my taking you for a drive to the Park?”
“Oh, I should like that!” said Mrs. Howland in surprise,