thing in the world, whereas now I am
worth nothing. I hope you will think it over, Mr. Martin, and do what
I wish."

Martin was quite silent for a minute. The waiter came along and was
paid his bill, with a very substantial tip for himself thrown in.
Still Martin lingered at the breakfast-table with his eyes lowered.

"There's one thing--and one thing only--I like about this,
Popsy-wopsy," he said.

"And what is that?" asked Maggie.

"That you came to me on the matter instead of going to your mother;
that you recognized the strength and force of my character."

"Oh, any one can see that," said Maggie.

"You put it straight, too, with regard to your own disagreeable
nature."

"Yes, I put it straight," said Maggie.

"Well, all I can say at present is this: I will think it over. You go
home to your mother now, and tell her that her Bo-peep will be in as
usual to tea; and you, little girl, may as well make yourself scarce
at that hour. Here's a sovereign for you. Go and have a jolly time
somewhere."

"Oh, Mr. Martin, I"----began Maggie, her face crimson.

"You had best not put on airs," said Martin; and Maggie slipped the
sovereign into her pocket.

When she reached her mother's lodgings she felt well assured that she
had done the right thing. Hitherto she had been too stunned and
miserable to use any of her power--that strange power which she
possessed--on Mr. Martin. But she felt well assured that she could do
so in the future. She had gauged his character correctly. He was
hopelessly vulgar, but an absolutely good-natured and straight
person.

"He will do what I wish," she thought. Her uneasiness vanished as soon
as the first shock of her mother's disclosure was over. She entered
the house.

"Why, missie?" said Tildy, "w'erehever 'ave you been? The breakfast's
stony cold upstairs, and Mrs. 'Owland's cryin' like nothin' at all."

"Thank you, Tildy; I'll see mother immediately," said Maggie. "And I
don't want any breakfast, for I've had it already."

"With the haristocracy?" asked Tildy in a low, awed kind of voice.
"You always was one o' they, Miss Maggie."

"No, not with the aristocracy," said Maggie, trying to suppress her
feelings. "Tildy, your smut is on your left cheek this morning. You
can remove the breakfast-things, and I'll go up to mother."

Maggie ran upstairs. Mrs. Howland had eaten a little, very indifferent
breakfast, and was looking weepy and washed-out as she sat in her
faded dressi