‘I know that you’ve been the best girl to me that ever lived,’ said Iris, gently. ‘That you have stood my friend through everything--often my protector--and that I have found my best comfort in you.’ The only answer Maggie made to this speech was conveyed by throwing herself on her knees at her mistress’s feet, and burying her disorganised head in her lap. ‘Don’t speak to me like that,’ she gasped through her tears. ‘I ain’t deserving of it; and if you knew what a bad girl I am, you’d turn me out of your house to-morrow.’ ‘I don’t think I should, Maggie. If I believed you to be bad (which I don’t) I should try to return your kindness to me by pointing out a better mode of life to you. But don’t talk nonsense. I have no fault to find with you--so you need find none with yourself.’ ‘You’re an angel, that’s what you are,’ said Maggie, standing up and drying her eyes, ‘and I’m a brute, and so is he. But what vexes you now, my pretty?’ This question brought poor Iris back to a remembrance of her own troubles. ‘Oh! I can’t tell you, Maggie--at least not yet--for I am not even sure if I have any right to feel vexed. But my future looks very dark to me--very dark indeed, and I cannot help fretting to think what may be in store.’ ‘And _he’s_ at the bottom of it, of course,’ observed Maggie, with an irreverent motion of her thumb towards the sitting-room. Iris sighed. Was _he_ not at the bottom of all her troubles? ‘Has that letter got anything to do with the matter, mistress?’ asked Maggie, looking at the paper in her hand. ‘Yes; but don’t ask me any more questions about it, Maggie. If Mr Harland forces me to act, I promise you shall know all.’ ‘You _promise_ that, mistress, on your word of honour?’ ‘I do promise, dear Maggie,’ replied Iris, bending forward to kiss the earnest face raised to hers. But Maggie started as if she had been shot. ‘No! no! you sha’n’t kiss me! I ain’t fit for you to touch. But let me kiss your hand, dear. There! that can’t hurt you--and I wouldn’t hurt you (God knows), not to save my own life.’ And with a smothered sob, and an application of her grimy apron to her eyes, Maggie Greet took her way down to the lower regions again. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER IV. LES NOUVEAUX RICHES.