She opened the drawing-room door and entered. Mrs. Howland was lying on a sofa, which was covered with faded rep and had a broken spring. She had a handkerchief wrung out of aromatic vinegar over her forehead. Her eyes were shut, and her exceedingly thin face was very pale. When her daughter entered the room she opened a pair of faded eyes and looked at her, but no sense of pleasure crossed Mrs. Howland's shallow face. On the contrary, she looked much worried, and said, in a cross tone, "I wish you would not be so noisy, Maggie. Didn't Tildy tell you that I had an acute headache?" "Yes, mother; and I didn't know I was noisy," replied Maggie. "I came upstairs as softly as possible. That door"--she pointed to the door by which she had entered--"creaks horribly. That is not my fault." "Excusing yourself, as usual," said Mrs. Howland. "Well, mother," said Maggie after a pause, "may I kiss you now that I have come back against my will?" "I knew you'd be horribly discontented," said Mrs. Howland; "but of course you may kiss me." Maggie bent down and touched her mother's cheek with her young lips. "I was having a beautiful time," she said, "and you don't seem glad now that I have come back. What is the matter?" "I have something to communicate to you," said Mrs. Howland. "I did not think I could write it; therefore I was obliged to have you with me. But we won't talk of it for a little. Have you ordered tea?" "Yes, mother. Tildy is bringing it." "That's right," said Mrs. Howland. "What a hot day it is!" she continued. "This room is stifling," replied Maggie. "Do you mind if I pull down the Venetian blinds? That will keep some of the sun out." "The blinds are all broken," said Mrs. Howland. "I have spoken to that woman Ross till I am tired, but she never will see to my wishes in any way." "I can't imagine why we stay here, mother." "Oh! don't begin your grumbles now," said Mrs. Howland. "I have news for you when tea is over." Just then the drawing-room door was opened by means of a kick and a bump, and Tildy entered, weighed down by an enormous tea-tray. Maggie ran to prepare a table for its reception, and Tildy looked at her with eyes of fresh admiration. Mrs. Howland raised herself and also looked at the girl. "Have you kept the cakes downstairs, and the muffins that I ordered, and the gooseberries?" "No, um," said Tildy. "I brought them up for Miss Maggie's tea." "I told you they were not to be touched till Mr. Martin came." "Yes, um," said Tildy; "but me and Mrs. Ross thought as Miss Maggie 'u'd want 'em." Mrs. Howland glanced at her daughter. Then all of a sudden, and quite unexpectedly, her faded face grew red. She perceived an expression of inquiry in Maggie's eyes which rather frightened her. "It's all right," she said. "Now that you've brought the things up, Tildy, leave them here, and go. When Mr. Martin comes, show him up. Now leave us, and be quick about it." Tildy departed, slamming the door behind her.