“Of course it did,” said Aneta, with deep sympathy; “it would have driven me nearly wild. Does Mrs. Ward know that your mother is married again, Maggie?”
“Well, I haven’t told her; and, please, Aneta, will you promise me not to do so?”
“But is there any occasion to keep it a secret, dear?”
“I would so much rather she did not know. She received me here as Maggie Howland. I am Maggie Howland still; my mother having changed her name makes no difference, except, indeed, that she is very well off, whereas she was poor.”
“Well, that of course is a comfort to you,” said Aneta. “Perhaps by-and-by you will learn to be glad that your mother has secured the care of a good husband. I am told that she has married one of those very nice Martyns who live in Warwickshire. Is that true?”
Maggie nodded. She hated herself after she had given that inclination of her head; but she had done it now, and must abide by it. To own Martin the grocer as a stepfather was beyond her power.
Aneta did not think it specially necessary to worry about Maggie’s mother and her new husband. She said that the whole thing was Maggie’s own affair; and, after trying to comfort the girl for a little longer, she kissed Maggie, and went to her own room. When there, she went at once to bed and fell fast asleep.
But Maggie sat for a long time by her open window. “What an awful and ridiculous position I have put myself in!” she thought. “The Martyns of The Meadows and Bo-peep of Laburnum Villa to be connected! I could almost scream with laughter if I were not also inclined to scream with terror. What an awful idea to get into people’s heads, and now I have, confirmed it! Of course I shall be found out, and things will be worse than ever.”
Before Maggie went to bed she sat down and wrote a brief note to her mother. She addressed it when written to Mrs. Martyn (spelt with a “y”), Laburnum Villa, Clapham. Maggie had seen Laburnum Villa, and regarded it as one of the most poky suburban residences she had ever had the pleasure of entering. The whole house was odiously cheap and common, and in her heart poor Maggie preferred Tildy and Mrs. Ross, and the fusty, musty lodgings at Shepherd’s Bush.
Her note to her mother was very brief: