Margie's venture

by Mary E. Ropes

But there were other people in the house not so easy to deal with. In the first place, there was Mr. Nicholas Beach, the only son of the widow. He was a young gentleman of no occupation, but of self-indulgent, not to say vicious habits. As he had nothing to do but to amuse himself, he was always dawdling about the house, and Margie was continually meeting him, much to her annoyance; for she had taken a dislike to his handsome, dissipated face, and strongly resented his bold, free manner with the maids, and his ungentlemanly personal remarks.

Another member of the family who was even a greater trial to Margie was Mrs. Beach's niece, Mabel Raye, whom the aunt had brought up from a child.

She was a very handsome girl, one of those dark beauties who light up into positive brilliance under strong excitement, and who reward a tasteful and painstaking maid by looking their very best when they emerge from her beautifying hands into the bright light of a ballroom. But Mabel's mother had been a Creole, and with the glorious dark eyes and beautiful features, the girl had inherited the hot blood, the passionate, vindictive temper, the unreasoning jealousy, of the darker race. Not that she was devoid of generous feelings, of gracious impulses; but she had no principle; her conduct was governed solely by the whim of the moment. No wonder, then, that she was, an influence that had to be reckoned with in the house, and that by her sudden freaks, her stormy temper, and strange, mad jealousies, she was almost equally dangerous whether as friend or enemy.

It did not take long for Margie to realise that she must do her best not to come into collision with this girl. And as her duties kept her very much in Mrs. Beach's room, and she neither belonged to the dining-room nor the kitchen, she was usually able to keep out of the way, and flattered herself that she need never have any trouble.

The girl had not vanity enough to realise that she was quite attractive enough to rouse the jealousy of such an undisciplined character as Mabel Raye. Indeed, when Margie looked in the glass at all, it was just to be sure that her collar was straight, her hair neatly done, and that her whole dress was spotlessly fresh and tidy. It never occurred to her that she had a graceful figure, lovely brown hair, and clear, sweet eyes with an unusual wealth of lashes. She knew she was pleasant-looking, and of that she was frankly glad, but she did not guess (and here lay Margie's chief charm) how much more than pretty she appeared to others.

But Margie had reckoned without her host, as she found to her cost when a few weeks had passed. It happened on this wise. Nicholas Beach had been at home even more than usual of late, and Margie was constantly seeing him. If she took a message from Mrs. Beach, she was sure to find him dawdling about on the stairs, or sitting in the smoking-room with the door wide open, so as to watch every one who went by. Of course the girl took no notice of him, but she could not help seeing that he was beginning to dog her steps and watch for chances to see and speak to her. In short, he was evidently going to try and treat her with the contemptuous familiarity that he had doubtless found successful enough with the servants in his mother's house, when they chanced to be young and good-looking.

One day Margie was sewing in the little workroom which belonged exclusively to her. The door was shut, and she was stitching away, in order to complete the bit of sewing that night, when, without any warning, the door opened, and in walked Nicholas Beach, and with him entered the fumes of whisky and tobacco. The young man's face was flushed, his manner very abrupt, strange, and disagreeable.

"Ah," said he, with an impudent leer, "so here you are! Caught at last. Here I've been trying for ever so long to get a talk with you, but you always managed to keep out of my way." So saying, the young man flopped down into the one easy-chair the room contained, and stretched his long limbs out upon a smaller seat. Apparently he was come to stay, and as Margie was quite determined that he should quit, she braced herself up for what she felt sure would be an unpleasant interview.

"Well, aren't you going to say anything to a fellow?" said he at last, fixing his bold eyes upon the girl, who had now put down her work, and had risen from her seat by the table.

"Yes, sir, I am," rejoined Margie; "will you be kind enough to get up and leave this room at once?"