exceedingly fond of my Bo-peep--as I call him--and greatly enjoy the
prospect of being his wife. Oh Maggie, you have not returned to be a
thorn in our sides? You will submit?"

"Never, never, never!" said Maggie.

"Then I don't know what you are to do; for your new father insists on
my keeping the very little money I have for my own personal use, and
if you refuse to conform to his wishes he will not allow me to spend a
farthing of it on you. You can't live on nothing at all."

"I can't," said Maggie. "I don't know quite what to do. Are you going
to be so very cruel as to take away the little money you have hitherto
spent on me?"

"I must, dear; in fact, it is done already. Mr. Martin has invested it
in the grocery business. He already provides for all my wants, and we
are to be married in a fortnight. I have nothing whatever to spend on
you."

"Well, mother, we'll say no more to-night. I have a headache, but I'll
sleep on the sofa here; it's less hot than the bedroom."

"Won't you sleep with your poor old mother?"

"No, I can't, really. Oh, how dreadfully hot this place is!"

"You are spoilt by your fine life, Maggie; but I grant that these
lodgings are hot. The house at Clapham, however, is very cool and
fresh. Oh Maggie! My dear Bo-peep is getting such a sweet little
bedroom ready for you. I could cry when I think of your cross
obstinacy."

But even the thought of the sweet little bedroom didn't move Maggie
Howland. Tildy presently brought up a meagre supper, of which the
mother and daughter partook almost in silence. Then Mrs. Howland went
to her room, where she fell fast asleep, and Maggie had the
drawing-room to herself. She had arranged a sort of extempore bed on
the hard sofa, and was about to lie down, when Tildy opened the door.

"I say," said Tildy, "ain't he cunnin'?"

"What do you mean, Matilda?" said Maggie.

"Oh my," said Tildy, "wot a 'arsh word! Does you know, missie, that
he's arsked me to go down to Clap'am presently to 'elp wait on your
ma? If you're there, miss, it'll be the 'eight of 'appiness to me."

"I may as well say at once, Matilda, that I shall not be there."

"You don't like 'im, then?" said Tildy, backing a step. "And 'e is so
enticin'--the prettiest ways 'e 'ave--at least, that's wot me and Mrs.
Ross thinks. We always listen on the stairs for 'im to greet your ma.
We like 'im, that we do."

"I have an old dress in my trunk, Tildy, which I will give you. You
can manage