It was just like a story. Maggie liked to be called pretty lady and treated in this way. She sat down, and said:—
“I’m come from home because I’m unhappy, and I mean to be a gypsy. I’ll live with you if you like, and I can teach you a great many things.”
“Such a clever little lady,” said the woman with the baby, sitting down by Maggie, and allowing the baby to crawl. “And such a pretty bonnet and frock,” she added, taking off Maggie’s bonnet, and looking at it while she made a remark to the old woman, in an unknown language. The tall girl snatched the bonnet and put it on her own head hind-foremost, with a grin. But Maggie was determined not to show any weakness on this subject.
“I don’t want to wear a bonnet,” she said; “I’d rather wear a red handkerchief, like yours.”
“Oh, what a nice little lady!—and rich, I’m sure,” said the old woman. “Didn’t you live in a beautiful house at home?”
“Yes; my home is pretty, and I’m very fond of the river, where we go fishing, but I’m often very unhappy. I should have liked to bring my books with me, but I came away in a hurry, you know. But I can tell you almost everything there is in my books; I’ve read them so many times, and that will amuse you. And I can tell you something about geography, too,—that’s about the world we live in,—very useful and interesting. Did you ever hear about Columbus?”
“Is that where you live, my little lady?” said the old woman, at the mention of Columbus.
“Oh, no!” said Maggie, with some pity. “Columbus was a very wonderful man, who found out half the world, and they put chains on him and treated him very badly, you know. It’s in my geography, but perhaps it’s rather too long to tell before tea—I want my tea so.” The last words burst from Maggie, in spite of herself.
“Why, she’s hungry, poor little lady,” said the younger woman. “Give her some of the cold victuals. You’ve been walking a good way, I’ll be bound, my dear. Where’s your home?”