A JOLLY PLAN.
Maggie, on the whole, was inclined to wake early; she was not a
particularly sound sleeper, and on the summer mornings she always had an
intense longing to be up and about. It occurred to her, however, as Miss
Grey was helping her to undress that night, how very, very dreadful it
would be if Susy were to wait down in the street on the following morning,
and she were all unconsciously to oversleep herself. She thought that such
a thing ought not to be left to chance, and she cast about in her active
little brain for some means of rousing herself. The little room she slept
in used to be occupied by Ralph; and among the rest of its furniture, it
held a nice little book-shelf, full of gayly covered boy's books. Maggie
could not read, but Ralph during the day had come up with her and told her
the names of some of his favorite volumes. Maggie now thought that these
books might help her to wake; and accordingly, after Miss Grey had left her
tucked up comfortably in her little white bed, she slipped on to the floor,
and going to the book-case, selected a green and gayly bound volume, which
Ralph had called "Robinson Crusoe;" another, which he had entitled "Swiss
Family Robinson," and a book bound in brown, which he assured her was as
heavy in its contents as in its exterior, and which bore the name of
"Sandford and Merton."
Maggie carried these three books into her bed, and then arranged them with
system.
"I am sure to wake now," she said to herself. "And poor little Susy shall
not be disappointed of her tambourine. The green book is 'Robinson Crusoe,'
he'll do to begin with; he's rather thick, and he'll make a good clatter.
Now I do call this a lovely plan."
Maggie now arranged herself in bed, and placed "Robinson Crusoe" on her
feet.
"I'll go sound asleep, and though he's rather weighty I don't mind him,
and then when I turn, he'll go bang on the floor, and that'll wake me the
first time," she said. "The other two books can stay handy until they're
wanted under my pillow."
Then the little princess shut up her curly fringed eyes and went happily
off into the land of dreams.
It so happened that Miss Grey was getting into bed when the bump occasioned
by "Robinson Crusoe's" fall occurred. She rushed into her little pupil's
room to inquire what was wrong. Maggie was sitting up in bed and rubbing
her sleepy eyes.
"He did come down with a bang," she said; "it's a jolly plan. Please, Miss
Grey, it's only 'Robinson Crusoe;' do you mind putting him on the shelf?"
Miss Grey picked up the volume in great wonder, but concluding that Maggie,
who could not read a word, must have been amusing herself looking at the
pictures, laid the book down and retired to rest.
In the course of the night she had again to fly into the little princess'
bedroom. This time Maggie was very sleepy, and only murmured drowsily:
"I think it's his 'Family' that has got on the floor now."
Miss Grey picked up the "Swiss Family Robinson," and with a not unnatural
reflection that there seldom was a more troublesome little girl than her
pupil, once more sought her couch.
The third bang was the loudest of all, and it came with daylight, and
strange and unfortunate to say, awoke the pupil, and not the governess.
Maggie was out of bed in a moment, and approached the window, and was
gazing out to see some sign of Susy in the street. It was not yet five
o'clock, and certainly Susy was not likely to put in an appearance so
early; but Maggie determined not to risk going to sleep again, and she
accordingly dressed herself, and then getting on the window-sill, which
happened to be rather deep, curled herself up, and pressed her little face
against the glass. The band-box containing the precious hat was by her
side. The moment Susy appeared, therefore, she was ready to start.
Six o'clock struck from a church tower hard by, but another hour had very
nearly passed before a somewhat stout little figure was seen eagerly
turning the corner and gazing right up to the window where Maggie, cold and
tired with waiting, sat. At the sight of Susy, however, her spirits revived
and her enthusiasm was once more kindled. With the band-box containing the
new hat in her hand she rushed out of the room--she was too excited to be
very prudent this morning--and dashed downstairs in a way which certainly
would have aroused any one in the dead of the night, but was only mistaken
now for a frantic housemaid's extra cleaning.
Once more she reached the hall without any one seeing her, and opening the
street door, found Susy Aylmer waiting on the steps.
"Oh! here you are, miss--my heart was in my mouth for fear as you'd fail
me. Oh, not that band-box please, Miss Maggie, anybody would notice us with
the band-box! I have brought round the little broken-victual basket, and
we'll stuff the hat into that."
Maggie on this occasion was certainly not going to be particular, but she
did feel a pang of some annoyance when she saw her lovely hat crushed and
squeezed into a by no means clean basket. She concluded, however, that as
the hat was now absolutely Susy's, she need not trouble any further about
it.
"That's all right now," she said; "you'll be able to buy the tambourine
now, won't you?"
"Well, I 'ope so, miss; that's if the 'at ain't a sham, and it don't look
like a sham--it looks like a real good 'at. Now, then, Miss Maggie, hadn't
we better come along?--it's a good step from here to the pawnshop--we'll
get there a little before eight, and they opens at eight. It's a good plan
to be at the pawn bright and early, and then you get served first; come
along, miss."
"But I didn't know you wanted me to go with you to the shop," said Maggie;
"I thought you might do that by yourself; I have gived you the hat, and I
thought you'd sell it by yourself. Why, what is the matter Susy?"
Susy Aylmer's face had grown crimson, redder, indeed, than any face Maggie
had ever seen; she began opening the basket and pulling out the hat.
"Oh! oh!" she said, "and is that your kind? Is it me that 'ud take this hat
and sell it by myself? Why, I'd be took for a thief, that's what I'd be
took for, and I'd be put in the lock-up, that's where I'd be found. There,
Miss Maggie, take back your hat, miss; it's better to be ever so hungry and
holler, and have your bit of liberty. I must do without the tambourine, and
Jo's day dream won't come, that's all. Good-morning to yer, miss."
Susy began to walk very slowly away, but Maggie flew after her.
"Why, Susy," she said, "I don't mind going with you; I think perhaps I'd
rather like going, only I didn't know you wanted me. You shan't be put in
the lock-up, Susy, though I'm sure I don't know what the lock-up is, and
you shall have your tambourine. But oh, Susy, I hope they won't take me for
a thief and put me into that funny place!"
"Oh, dear, no, missy darling--any one might see at a glance that you was
the rightful owner of that 'ere pretty hat, and might well sell what was
your own. Come, missy dear, it's all right now, and I never thought as
you'd be that real mean as to desert me."
"We must be very quick, then, Susy," said Maggie; "for my Aunt Violet is
going to have breakfast at half-past eight this morning and I have been up
a long time--a very long time, and I never was so hungry in all my life. I
had a very disturbed night, Susy, for 'Robinson Crusoe' did bump so when he
fell on the floor, and so did the 'Family,' but none of them bumped quite
so hard as 'Sandford and Merton.'"
All the time the two little girls were talking they were going further and
further away from Mrs. Grenville's door, and by the time Maggie had quite
made up her mind to accompany her little companion they had turned into a
side street, and if she had wished it she could not now have found her way
home.
Maggie, however, no longer wished to go back; it was great fun going with
Susy to the pawnbroker's, and she felt very important at having something
of her own to sell. She was a strong, healthy little girl, and did not feel
particularly tired when they at last reached the special pawnbroker's which
Susy had fixed upon as the best place for making their bargain. The doors
of this shop were not yet open, but they were presently pushed back, the
shutters were taken down, and a dirty-looking girl and a slovenly red-faced
man entered the establishment. Maggie had never seen such an
unpleasant-looking pair, and she was very glad to shelter herself behind
Susy, and felt much inclined to refuse to enter the shop at all.
Susy, however, marched in boldly, and very soon the white hat was laid upon
the counter, and a fierce haggling ensued between this young person and the
red-faced man. The dirty girl also came and stared very hard at Maggie, for
certainly such a refined little face and such a lovely hat had not been
seen in that pawnshop for many a day. The hat was new, and had cost several
guineas, but Maggie's eyes quite glistened when the red man presented her
with seven shillings in exchange for it. She thought this a magnificent
lot of money--her cheeks became deeply flushed, and she poured the silver
into Susy's hand with the delighted remark:
"Oh, now you can get a tambourine! This will more than make up the sixteen
added to fourteen, won't it?"
Susy, too, thought seven shillings a splendid lot of money, and the two
were leaving the pawnbroker's in a state of ecstasy, when Susy suddenly
felt even her florid complexion turning pale, and Maggie exclaimed
joyfully:
"Oh, it's dear Waters! Waters, where have you come from, and how did you
learn my secret?"
For answer to Maggie's eager inquiries Waters stooped down and lifted the
little girl into her arms; she held her close, and even kissed her in a
quite tremulous and agitated manner.
"Thank God, Miss Maggie!" she exclaimed; "thank God, my pretty innocent
lamb, I'm in time. Oh, what a bad, bad girl that Susy must be! How could
she tempt you to do anything so wicked? Why, Miss Maggie, you might have
been stolen yourself--you might have been--you might have been! Oh, poor
dear Sir John! What a near escape he has had of having his heart broke!"
Here Waters shed some tears and leaned up against the counter in her
agitation.
"Susy was not to blame," said Maggie, when she could speak in her utter
astonishment. "Poor Susy wanted the tambourine, and I wanted to give it
her, and I couldn't think of no other way, 'cause I'm a dunce and can't
write, and so I couldn't send no letter to father to ask him to give me the
money. Don't you be frightened, Susy; come here; poor Susy you shall have
your tambourine."
But here the untidy-looking girl who served behind the counter raised her
shrill voice.
"Ef you're looking for the red-faced young person what came with you into
the shop, miss, she runned away some minutes since."
"And I'm grieved to say taking the money with her," added the pawnbroker.
"It seems provoking," he continued, "as of course if the money had been
returned I might have given up the hat. As things now stands this here hat
is mine."
"Not quite so," interposed Waters; "you know quite well, sir, you had no
right to buy a hat from a little lady like Miss Ascot. Here's seven
shillings from my purse, sir, and I'd be thankful to you to restore me the
hat."
Of course the pawnbroker and Waters had a rather sharp quarrel upon the
spot, but in the end the pawnbroker was the better of that morning's
transaction to the tune of several shillings, and Waters rescued the pretty
white hat, which, much bent out of shape, and with some black marks on its
pure white trimmings, was carried home.
"Not that you shall wear it, my dear--not that you shall attempt to put it
on your head again, for nobody knows what the hat may have contracted, so
to speak, in so horrid and dirty a shop, but that I didn't wish that man to
have more of a victory than I could help. Oh, Miss Maggie, darling, you did
give me a fright and no mistake!"
"But how did you know where I was, Waters? I kept my secret so well."
"Yes, my dearie; but somehow I got fidgety last night, and I kept thinking
and thinking of your words, and the idea got hold of me that maybe the
secret wasn't just between you and Master Ralph. This morning I woke
earlier than my wont, and as I couldn't sleep, I got up. I had to put one
or two little matters right with regard to my mistress' wardrobe, and then
I thought I'd see, just when I had a quiet hour, whether you had everything
right to go to the garden party. Your new dress was hung up in my mistress'
room, and I took it out and saw that the tucker was fastened round the
neck, and that your gloves were neat, and your little white French boots
wanted no buttons, and then it occurred to me that I'd just curl up the
feathers of the hat. The hat was not with the dress, so I ran up to your
room to fetch it, thinking of course to see you, dearie, like a little bird
asleep in your nest. Well, my dear, the poor little bird was flown, and the
beautiful hat was nowhere, and, I must say, I was in a taking, and it
flashed across me that was the secret. I put on my bonnet and flew into the
street, only just in time to see you and Susy talking very earnestly
together, and turning the corner. The street, as you know, is a long one,
and I couldn't get up with you, run as I might, but thank God, I kept you
in sight, and at last overtook you at the pawnshop. Oh, what a wicked girl
Susy Aylmer is!"
"She isn't," said Maggie, "Oh, poor Susy isn't wicked. Waters, I'm sorry
you found us. I did want to do something for Susy and for Jo!"
Here Maggie burst into such bitter weeping that Waters found it absolutely
impossible to comfort her.