Maggie's face worked; her candle shook; she put up her other hand to wipe away the fast-flowing tears.
"Oh, don't cry!" said Flower, stamping her foot impatiently. "Tears do no good, and it wasn't you who did it."
"No, Miss, no, Miss; that's a bit of a comfort. I wouldn't be you, Miss Flower, for all the wide world. Well, I must go now; I'm a-sleeping in Miss Polly's room to-night, Miss."
"Only her foot's bad. I mustn't stay, really, Miss Flower."
"Look here," said Flower, struck by a sudden thought, "before you go tell me something. Your mother lives in the village, does she not?"
"Why, yes, Miss, just in the main street, down round by the corner. There's the baker's shop and the butcher's, and you turn round a sharp corner, and mother's cottage is by your side."
"I've a fancy to go and see her. Good-night."
"That's true. Well, I must go to Miss Polly now. Don't you make any noise when you're coming in, Miss! Oh, my word!" continued Maggie to herself, "what can Miss Flower want with mother? Well, she is a contrairy young lady mischievous, and all that, and hasn't she wrought a sight of harm in this yer house! But, for all that, mother'll be mighty took up with her, for she's all for romance, mother is, and Miss Flower's very uncommon. Well, it ain't nought to do with me, and I'll take care to tell no tales to Miss Polly, poor dear."
The night was still and calm; the stars shone peacefully; the wind, which had come in gusts earlier in the evening, had died down. It took Flower a very few minutes to reach the village, and she wasn't long in discovering Mrs. Ricketts' humble abode.
That good woman had long retired to rest, but Flower's peremptory summons on the door soon caused a night-capped head to protrude out of a window, a burst of astonishment to issue from a wonder-struck pair of lips, and a moment later the young lady was standing by Mrs. Ricketts' fireside.
"I'm proud to see you, Miss, and that I will say. Set down, Miss, do now, and I'll light up the fire in a twinkling."
"No, you needn't," said Flower. "I'm hot; I'm burning. Feel me; a fire would drive me wild."
"To be sure, so you are, all in a fever like," said Mrs. Ricketts, laying her rough hand for a moment on Flower's dainty arm. "You'll let me light up the bit of a paraffin lamp, then, Miss, for it ain't often as I have the chance of seeing a young lady come all the way from Australy."