barrister? Do clergymen or barristers or people in any profession come
to houses like this? Do talk sense when you're about it."

"Well, tell me what he is, at least."

"He is in--I am by no means ashamed of it--in _trade_."

Now, it so happened that it had been duly impressed upon Maggie's mind
that Mr. Cardew of Meredith Manor was also, so to speak, in trade;
that is, he was the sleeping partner in one of the largest and
wealthiest businesses in London. Maggie therefore, for a minute, had a
glittering vision of a great country-house equal in splendor to
Meredith Manor, where she and her mother could live together. But the
next minute Mrs. Howland killed these glowing hopes even in the moment
of their birth.

"I want to conceal nothing from you," she said. "Mr. Martin keeps the
grocer's shop at the corner. I may as well say that I met him when I
went to that shop to get the small articles of grocery which I
required for my own consumption. He has served me often across the
counter. Then one day I was taken rather weak and ill in the shop, and
he took me into his back-parlor, a very comfortable room, and gave me
a glass of excellent old port; and since then, somehow, we have been
friends. He is a widower, I a widow. His children have gone into the
world, and each one of them is doing well. My child is seldom or never
with her mother. It is about a week ago since he asked me if I would
accept him and plenty, instead of staying as I am--a genteel widow
with so little money that I am half-starved. His only objection to our
marriage is the thought of you, Maggie; for he said that I was
bringing you up as a fine lady, with no provision whatever for the
future. He hates fine ladies, as he calls them; in fact, he is dead
nuts against the aristocracy."

"Oh mother!" wailed poor Maggie; "and my father was a gentleman!"

"Mr. Martin has quite a gentlemanly heart," said Mrs. Howland. "I
don't pretend for a moment that he is in the same position as my late
lamented husband; but he is ten times better off, and we shall live in
a nice little house in Clapham, and I can have two servants of my own;
he is having the house refurnished and repapered for me--in his own
taste, it is true, for he will not hear of what he calls Liberty
rubbish. But it is going to be very comfortable, and I look forward to
my change of surroundings with great satisfaction."

"Yes, mother," said Maggie, "you always did think of yourself first.
But what