Mischievous Maid Faynie

by Laura Jean Libbey

"Sweet Margery Conway is not strong," he thought, pityingly. "How frightened her father would be were he to see that sudden rush of blood to the head."

He wondered whether or not he should run to her and proffer his assistance. He had once seen a young woman who was thus affected fall to the floor in a fit, and it had been many a long day ere the unfortunate woman could return to her work again. He devoutly hoped this might not be the case with poor, pretty Margery.

She saw him start and look at her searchingly. She could not have stopped and exchanged a word with him if her life had depended upon it. She hurried past him with desperate haste, praying that he might not hear the beating of her heart.

He noticed that she did not stop to speak, but he quite believed that it was because she was very busy. The next moment he had forgotten all about it, and about the girl, too, for that matter.

He scarcely remembered pretty Margery until he happened to see her again. The girl was fairly stunned by the intelligence that the great millionaire owner of the establishment had made Lester Armstrong his heir.

At first her joy was so great that she could not speak. Then a sudden fright swept over her heart. He was rich now, and she was poor. Would it make any difference with him. She tried to put the chilling thought from her, for it made her heart turn cold as ice. Her gentle eyes did not close in sleep all the long night through. Her pillow was wet with tears. The one prayer on her lips was: "I pray to Heaven this may make no change in him; that he will care for me as much as when he sent me the poem."

She had not seen Lester Armstrong since he had taken his new position as proprietor of the great establishment, and now, when his bell rang for her, no wonder the girl's heart leaped into her mouth, and involuntarily she looked into the long pier glass eagerly. Ah, it was a fair face reflected there. There were few fairer, with its delicate coloring framed in nut-brown curls, gathered back so carelessly from the white brow, and there was a light in the brown eyes beautiful to behold. She had been wondering only the moment before if the hero of her daydreams had forgotten her, and lo! the summons of his bell had seemed to come in answer to the thought.

With trembling, hopeful anticipation, Margery wended her way to her employer's office, taking the nearer route, not through the main office, where her father was, but by a more direct narrow passage, which was seldom used.

All unmindful of his daughter's presence in the main office, the old cashier had bent his steps thither for instructions regarding the bill which had just been presented, but he had scarcely reached out his hand to knock, ere he heard a blood-curdling, piercing scream, in a woman's voice, from within, and recognized, in horror too great for words, the voice of his own daughter, his Margery!