“Oh, yes; I know, but go to the side door, and say Miss Alice instead of Allie,” Mr. Thornton replied as he began to puff at his cigar.
Here was sass at the outset, and remembering her promise to Hugh, Milly gave a vigorous pull at the bell, saying as she did so:
“I sha’n’t call her Miss, and I shall go into the front door, or I sha’n’t stay. I ain’t dirt!”
This speech was so astounding and unexpected, that instead of resenting it, Mr. Thornton laughed aloud, and as a servant just then came to the door, he sauntered away, saying to himself:
“Plucky, by Jove; but if she suits Allie, I don’t care.”
If Mr. Thornton had a redeeming trait it was his love for his wife and children, especially little Alice, for whom he would sacrifice everything, even his pride, which is saying a great deal, and when, an hour later, he found her in the Park with Mildred at her side making dandelion curls for her, he was very gracious and friendly, asking her how old she was, and giving her numerous charges with regard to his daughter. Then he went away, while Mildred looked admiringly after him, thinking how handsome he was in his city clothes, and how different he was from her father.
“It’s because he’s rich and has money. I mean to have some, too,” she thought, and with the seeds of ambition taking deeper and deeper root, she began her life at Thornton Park, where she soon became a great favorite, not only with Alice, but with Mrs. Thornton, to whom she was almost as necessary as to Alice herself.
Regularly every Saturday night her three dollars were paid to her, and as regularly every Sunday morning she took them home, where they were very acceptable, for Mr. Leach had not the least idea of thrift, and his daughter’s wages tided over many an ugly gap in the household economy. Mrs. Leach had the French calico gown, and Charlie a pair of red shoes, and Bessie a new white frock, and Tom a new straw hat, but for all that they missed Mildred everywhere, she was so helpful and willing, even when rebelling most against her condition, and when in September Mrs. Thornton proposed that she should go with them to New York, Mrs. Leach refused so decidedly that the wages were at once doubled, and six dollars a week offered in place of three. Money was nothing to Mrs. Thornton, and as what she set her mind upon she usually managed to get, she succeeded in this, and when in October the family returned to the city, Mildred went with them, very smart in the new suit Mrs. Thornton had given her, and very red about the eyes from the tears she had shed when saying good-bye to her home.
“If I’d known I should feel this way, I believe I wouldn’t have gone,” she had thought, as she went from room to room with Charlie in her arms, Bessie holding her hand, and Tom following in the rear, whistling “The girl I left behind me,” and trying to seem very brave.
On a bench by the brook which ran back of the house Mildred at last sat down with Charlie in her lap, and looking at the water running so fast at her feet, wondered if she should ever see it again, and where Hugh was that he did not come to say good-bye. She had a little package for him, and when at last he appeared, and leaping across the brook, sat down beside her, she gave it to him, and said with a forced laugh: