Maggie had found it very delightful to talk to Susy on the doorstep of her aunt's house. The little mystery of the whole proceeding fascinated her, and as she was in reality a very romantic and imaginative child, she thought nothing could be finer than going off privately with Susy, and sacrificing her best hat for the benefit of this young person. She had also a decidedly mixed and perhaps somewhat naughty desire to out-do Ralph in this matter, and to be herself the person who was to rescue poor Susy and her family from the depths of starvation. When Susy went away, she crept upstairs and went softly into her little room, no one having heard her either leave it or return to it.

There was one part, however, of the programme marked out by Susy which was not quite so agreeable to little Miss Ascot. Susy had adjured her, with absolute tears starting to her black eyes, to keep the whole thing a secret. Maggie had not the smallest difficulty in promising this at the moment, but she had no sooner reached her little bedroom than she became possessed with a frantic desire to tell her little adventure to some one. She was not yet eight years old; she had never kept a secret in her life, and the moment she possessed this one it began to worry her. Little Maggie, however, was not without a certain code of morals; she knew that it would be very wrong indeed to tell a lie. She had given her word to Susy; she must keep her poor little secret at any cost.

Miss Grey, who of course knew nothing of all that had transpired, came in at her accustomed hour to assist her little pupil at her toilet. Maggie capered about and seemed in excellent spirits while she was being dressed. She had no idea of betraying her secret, but she liked, so to speak, to play with it, to show little peeps of it, and certainly fully to acquaint those she was with, with the fact that she was the happy possessor of such a treasure. She remembered Waters' remarks of the night before. Waters had said how very faithfully she preserved anything told to her in confidence. Waters kept her secrets in violet. Maggie did not quite understand the double meaning of this expression; but, as she was being dressed, she became violently enamored of what she called the "secret" color.

"No, no, I won't have my pink sash this morning, please, Miss Grey; I don't like pink; I mean it isn't the fit color for me to wear to-day. You don't know why; you'll never of course guess why, but pink isn't my color to-day anyhow."

"Well, Maggie, you need not wear it," replied the patient governess; "here is a very pretty blue sash, dear; it will go quite nicely with your white frock; let me tie it on in a hurry, dear, for the breakfast gong has sounded."

But Maggie would not be satisfied with the blue sash, nor yet with the tartan, nor even with the pale gold.

"I want a violet sash," she said; "I'll have nothing but a violet sash; I'm keeping something in violet; you'll never, never guess what."

The breakfast gong here sounded a second time, and of course Miss Grey could not find any violet ribbons in Maggie's box; fortunately she had a piece of the desired color among her own stores; so when the little princess was decked in it, she went downstairs, feeling very happy and proud.

Miss Grey's violet sash did not happen to be of a pretty shade; it was an old ribbon, of a dark tint of color, and was a great deal too short for its present purpose.

"What a hideous thing you have round your waist," whispered Ralph to his little cousin; but here he caught his mother's eye; she did not allow him to make personal remarks, and although she herself was considerably surprised at Lady Ascot's allowing such a ribbon into Maggie's wardrobe, nothing further was said on the subject. Even the wearing of the violet sash, however, could scarcely keep the secret from bubbling to Maggie's lips. Mrs. Grenville began to form her plans for the day. Maggie and Ralph were to employ themselves over their lessons until twelve o'clock and then Mrs. Grenville would take them both out with her, first to Madame Tussaud's, and later on for a drive in the park.

"To-morrow," she continued, "you are both going with me to a children's garden party. Mrs. Somerville – you know Mrs. Somerville, Ralph, and what nice children hers are – happened to hear that you and Maggie were coming to me for a short time, and she sent an invitation for you both last night. We shall not return until quite late, as it will be Hugh Somerville's birthday; and they are going to have fireworks in the evening, and even a little dance."

Ralph rubbed his hands together with delight.

"Won't Maggie jump when she hears the fireworks?" he said. "You never saw fireworks, did you, Mag? Oh, I say, what a jolly time we are going to have!"

Maggie felt her cheeks flushing, more particularly as she had seen a few rockets, and even some Catharine wheels, and in consequence she had hitherto believed herself rather knowing on the subject of fireworks; but when Ralph proceeded to enlighten her with regard to the style of fireworks likely to be exhibited at Mrs. Somerville's garden party; when he spoke about the fairy fountains, and the electric lights, and the golden showers of fire-drops, and last, but not least, the bouquet which was to end the entertainment, she felt she had better keep silent with regard to the rockets and Catharine wheels which her father had once displayed for the amusement of the villagers.

Mrs. Grenville here began to speak earnestly to Miss Grey.

"I want Maggie's dress to be quite suitable. Is there anything we ought to get for her, Miss Grey?"

"I think not," replied Miss Grey. "She has just had a beautifully worked Indian muslin frock from Perrett's, in Bond Street, which she has not yet worn; and I don't think anything could be more dressy than her new hat with the ostrich feathers."

"Oh, yes, it is a charming hat," replied Mrs. Grenville. "Of course she must wear it to-day when she drives with me in the carriage, but that won't injure it for to-morrow. Then I need not trouble about your wardrobe, my darling; you will accompany me to-morrow, quite the little princess your father is so fond of calling you."

During this brief conversation, Maggie's little face had been changing color.

"I think," she said suddenly, "that perhaps I'd better have a new hat."

"Why so, my love? your hat is quite new and charming. It came from Perrett's, too, did it not, Miss Grey?"

"Yes, Mrs. Grenville; it was sent in the same box as the muslin costume."

"Oh, it will answer admirably, Maggie, dear. Why, what is the matter, my child?"

Maggie's lips were quivering, and her eyes were fixed on her violet sash.

"Only perhaps – perhaps the new hat might get lost or something," she muttered incoherently.

Mrs. Grenville looked at her for a moment, but as her remark was not very intelligible, she dismissed it from her mind.

The rest of the day passed happily enough. In half an hour Maggie ceased to fret about her hat. She comforted herself with the thought that her plain brown straw garden-hat, trimmed with a neat band of brown velvet, and a few daisies, would be after all just the thing for a garden party, and that in any case it did not greatly matter what she wore. What was of much more consequence was, that to-morrow Susy would be capering about with her tambourine, and that pennies would be pouring in for the Aylmer children, and for Jo in particular. She was obliged to wear her best hat when she went out that afternoon, and she certainly was remarkably careful as to how she put it on, and she quite astonished Miss Grey, when she came home in the evening, by the extreme care with which she herself placed it back in its box.

"Waters," she said that night, when she suddenly met Mrs. Grenville's maid, "I am quite happy again; I have done just as you do, and I have kept it in violet all day long."

"What, my darling?" asked the surprised servant.

"Oh, my secret; I have got such a darling secret. It would be very wrong of me to tell it, wouldn't it, Waters?"

Waters looked dubious.

"I don't approve of secrets for a little lady."

"But, Waters, how queer you are! You always keep your own secrets in violet, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, dear; yes. But I haven't many. They're sort of burdensome things; at least, I find them so. And in no case do I approve of secrets for little ladies, Miss Maggie; in no single case."

Maggie knit her brows, looked exceedingly perplexed, felt a great longing to pour the whole affair into Waters' sympathizing ears, then remembered Susy and refrained.

"But I promised not to tell," she said; "I promised most solemn not to tell."

"Well, well; I s'pose it's something between you and Master Ralph," remarked the servant, who felt worried she scarcely knew why.

Maggie jumped softly up and down.

"It isn't Ralph's secret, but it's about Ralph. He needn't save up his pennies no more. It's about Ralph's pennies and the half-crown. I know what it is; I'll tell you exactly what it is, Waters, and yet I know you won't never guess. It's add sixteen to fourteen makes thirty. My secret's the sixteen. You'll never, never, never guess, will you, Waters?"

Here Waters had to confess herself bamboozled, and Maggie skipped off to bed with a very light heart. She had kept her secret all day long, and now all she had to do was to wake up quite early in the morning, and go off with Susy to the pawnbroker's.

CHAPTER IX.
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.