"Oh, dear James," said Mrs. Howland, "don't take all the poor child says in earnest now! She'll be down on her knees to you to-morrow. I know she will. Leave her to me, James dear, and I'll manage her." "You can manage most things, Little-sing," said Mr. Martin; "but I don't know that I want that insolent piece. She is very different from you. If she is to be about our pleasant, cheerful home snubbing me and putting on airs--why, I'll have none of it. Let her go, Victoria, I say--let her go if she wants to; but if she comes to me she must come in a cheerful spirit, and joke with me, and take my fun, and be as agreeable as you are yourself, Little-sing." "Well, at least," said Mrs. Howland, "give us till to-morrow. The child is surprised; she will be different to-morrow." "I hope so," said Mr. Martin; "but if there's any philandering, or falling back, or if there's any _on_-gratitude, I'll have naught to do with her. I only take her to oblige you, Victoria." "You had best leave us now, dear," said Mrs. Howland. "I will talk to Maggie, and let you know." Mr. Martin sat quite still for a minute. Then he rose, took not the slightest notice of Maggie, but, motioning Mrs. Howland to follow him, performed a sort of cake-walk out of the room. When he reached the door and had said good-bye, he opened it again and said, "Bo-peep!" pushing a little bit of his bald head in, and then withdrawing it, while Mrs. Howland pretended to admire his antics. At last he was gone; but by this time Maggie had vanished into the bedroom. She had flung herself on her knees by the bed, and pushed her handkerchief against her mouth to stifle the sound of her sobs. Mrs. Howland gently opened the door, looked at her daughter, and then shut it again. She felt thoroughly afraid of Maggie. An hour or two later a pale, subdued-looking girl came out of the bedroom and sat down by her mother. "Well," said Mrs. Howland, "he is very pleasant and cheerful, isn't he?" "Mother, he is horrible!" "Maggie, you have no right to say those things to me. I want a good husband to take care of me. I am very lonely, and no one appreciates me." "Oh mother!" said poor Maggie--"my father!" "He was a very good man," said Mrs. Howland restlessly; "but he was above me, somehow, and I never, never could reach up to his heights." "And you really tell me, his child, that you prefer that person?" "I think I shall be quite happy with him," said Mrs. Howland. "I really do. He is awfully kind, and his funny little ways amuse me." "Oh mother!"