“Well, go now, and attend to your business,” said Mrs. Martin.
Having secured a messenger, Mrs. Martin next prepared to write to poor Maggie:
“My dear Child,—Most unfortunately your father has discovered the letter you wrote to me. He doesn’t say much, but I can see that he is furiously angry. He intends to take me 145 with him to call on you next Saturday—I presume, some time in the afternoon. I will try to make him dress in as gentlemanly a manner as possible, and also will endeavor to prevent his talking about the shop. You must make the very best of things you can, dear; for there’s no possible way of keeping him from Aylmer House.—Your affectionate mother,
“Victoria Martin.”
When the letter was finished Mrs. Martin put it into an envelope, addressed to Miss Maggie Howland, Aylmer House, Randal Square, South Kensington, and put it into Tildy’s care. Tildy caught her train all in good time, arrived at Victoria, and took a bus to South Kensington. A very little inquiry enabled her to find Randal Square, and at about half-past two she was standing on the steps of that most refined and genteel home, Aylmer House. The look of the place impressed her, but did not give her any sense of intimidation. When the door was opened to her modest ring, and the pleasant, bright-looking parlor-maid answered her summons, Tildy gazed at her with great interest but without a scrap of shyness.
“I’ve come from ’er ’ome to see Miss Maggie ’Owland,” said Tildy; “and I’ve a message for ’er from ’er ma.”
The girl, whose name was Agnes, stared for a minute at Tildy. She recognized her “sort” in a moment. Tildy belonged to the lodging-house sort of girl. What she could have to do with one of Agnes’s young ladies puzzled that young person considerably. It was the rule, however, at Aylmer House that no one, however poor or humble, should be treated with rudeness, and certainly a person bringing a message to one of the young ladies was entitled to respect. Agnes said, therefore, in a polite and superior tone, “Step in, will you, miss? and I will find out if Miss Howland is in.”
Tildy stepped into the hall, feeling, as she expressed it, “dream-like and queer all over.” She did not dare to sit down, but stood on the mat, gazing with her bright, inquisitive eyes at the various things in this new world in which she found herself.
“How beauteous!” she kept repeating at intervals. “Why, Laburnum Villa ain’t a patch on this. How very beauteous! No wonder Miss Maggie ’ave the hair of a queen.”
Now, it so happened that Maggie Howland was out, and would not be back for some time. This was the day when she and the other girls belonging to her kingdom had gone forth to purchase all sorts of good things for the coming feast. Maggie, as queen, had put a whole sovereign into the bag. There would, therefore, be no stint of first-class provisions. Every sort of eatable that was not usually permitted at Aylmer House was to grace the board—jelly, meringues, frosted cake, tipsy cake, as well as chickens garnished in the most exquisite way and prepared specially by a confectioner round the corner; also different dainties in aspic 146 jellies were to be ordered. Then flowers were to be secured in advance, so as to make the table really very beautiful.