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I am not a man to waste my money, and breakfast with Little-sing won't cost me anything." "But under the circumstances you will waste a little money in order to oblige me?" said Maggie. "There now, I admire your cheek. So be it. You don't deserve anything from me, for a ruder 'ittle dirl than you were yesterday to poor Bo-peep could not have been found in the length and breadth of England."
Martin with the other hand, returned with her to the dining-room. "Now, you sit there, Little-sing," he said, "while I piece the letter together. There is something in it that you want hidden from me; but you've quite mistook your man. There are to be no secrets between you and me. I'm not the least bit angry with you, but I am not going to have that girl ruling you.
She opened it, tore it from its envelope, and read the contents: "DEAR POPSY, I came across a cheap lot of frocks the other day at a bankrupt's sale, and thought at once of Little-sing and her daughter Popsy-wopsy. I am sending the dresses off to you without saying a word to Little-sing. You will be well off now for some time, and won't require the five pounds from me for dress at Christmas.
He had been in Liverpool, engaged on special business, for the greater part of a week; but he was now returning to his beloved Little-sing, who had missed him, and he was pleased to feel that he would be with her again. She knew his tastes to a nicety, and had desired the cook to prepare a very special dinner for his delectation.
"She is, James; she is." "Now, what on earth do you call me James for? Ain't I Bo-peep ain't I?" "Yes, Bo-peep, of course you are." "And you are Little-sing. You're a wonderfully elegant-looking woman for your years, Victoria." Mrs. Howland did not like to have her years mentioned. Mr. Martin had been careful never to do so until Maggie appeared on the scene.
We'll soon fill your poor mother's thin cheeks out, and get her rosy and plump, and then she'll be a more charming Little-sing to her own Bo-peep than ever." Maggie was silent. "Come, come," said Martin, patting her hand; "it's all right about Laburnum Villa, ain't it, my girl?" "No, Mr. Martin," said Maggie then. She withdrew her hand and turned and looked at him fixedly.
Martin looked intensely nervous. A bright spot of color came into her left cheek. Her right cheek was deadly pale. "I I cannot help it," she said. "I never meant Bo-peep to go; I never wished him to go. But he said, 'Little-sing, I will go' I I forgot myself of course you don't understand. He is a very good husband to me, but he and Maggie never get on."
"Nonsense, Little-sing," he replied, restored once more to the height of good humor. "You have roused my curiosity; nothing will induce me not to see every word of the letter now." It took Martin some time to piece together poor Maggie's letter; but at last the greater part of its meaning was made plain to him. Mrs. Martin sat, white as death, looking at her lord and master.
"I have something to say to you, and when I have said it you may do what you please." "Stay quiet, dear Maggie, for the present," said Mrs. Howland. The poor woman felt a queer sense of shame. Bo-peep and Little-sing had quite an agreeable time together when they were alone. She did not mind the boisterous attentions of her present swain; but with Maggie by there seemed to be a difference.
Then she approached the window, trembling and blushing. Bo-peep uttered a huge laugh of delight, let himself in by the back way, and ran up the stairs. "Little-sing!" he said, and clasped his wife in his arms.
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