Maggie MacKeever Read Online Free PDF

principles had been passed on to her niece. Alas for Madame’s peace of mind. Melly then added: “I didn’t like him half well enough for that sort of thing. At any event, Captain Birmingham was raked over the coals for neglecting the drill, and I was turned off without a character. Again! And so I have come here to you, so that you may tell me what I must do next.”
    What Madame le Best contemplated bidding her niece do did not accord with either high-mindedness or principles. “Since Brighton did not do for you, we must think of something else.”
    “Bless my heart! I did not dislike Brighton!” Melly was pleased to set forth at least one assertion with perfect truth. “It was great fun and I liked it very well, Aunt Hel—— Perhaps I should just call you Aunt Hell But Lady Birmingham didn’t like me.”
    Madame le Best clearly understood how that dislike could be inspired. Melly was precisely the sort of giddy young female whom any quiet and modest—and in the case of Lady Birmingham, homely—female must instinctively distrust. Madame had a tendency to distrust Melly herself.
    Melly watched her aunt, feeling rather like a prisoner at the bar, awaiting the judge’s verdict. It was a sensation with which Melly was not unfamiliar, though thus far no true practitioner of law had been called upon to evaluate her scrapes. They would probably have been more lenient than her aunt, thought Melly glumly. Doubtless, Aunt Helen would pack her off somewhere as far away from London as could be found. Melly sighed. It wasn’t her fault that her Creator had made her so highly susceptible.
    As Madame le Best perambulated around the perimeter of her showroom, seeking a resolution to the problem posed her by her niece, she heard Melly sigh. Though Madame was ambitious, she was not devoid of feeling. Covertly, she studied the child. Child? Melly was nineteen, and so very flighty and mischievous in demeanor that any gentleman who espied her must stop  and stare. For her own sake, the chit should be married, Madame decided.
    “Melly!” she said.
    That damsel looked up from an issue of La Belle Assemblée, through which she had been leafing with an envy that made her feel half-sick.
    Her aunt was looking cross, Melly thought. “I’m in the basket again, ain’t I?” she sighed, letting the book drop. “I am very sorry! I do not mean to get into trouble, you know.” Tears filled her big brown eyes anew.
    Almost, Madame le Best’s determination to discover some permanent solution for her niece failed her; she looked away from Melly’s woeful face. “Very well!” she said, quickly, before she could change her mind. “I have been thinking of engaging an assistant to help me in the showroom. You may have the position, Melly, providing I have your promise that you will do only as I tell you and keep a still tongue in your head!” The child could hardly get up to her usual mischief whilst dwelling under her aunt’s thumb.
    It was fortunate for Madame’s spiritual well-being that she had bent to retrieve La Belle Assemblée from the floor, where Melly had let it fall, and thus was spared observing the excitement that blazed in Melly’s eyes. “Thank you, Aunt Hel!” murmured Melly, with her most sincere and virtuous expression. “I will try very hard to be good!”
     

Chapter Four
     
    “A nice bit of cross-and-jostle work, with a muzzier to finish it!” avowed Sir Malcolm, looking rueful. “I have a very handy bunch of fives, I promise you that! Even my victim, when he awakened from his slumbers, was of the opinion I gave a good account of myself. In proof of his lack of hard feelings, he brought forth some excellent ale.”
    Lady Davenham’s side ached with suppressed merriment. “And what of the serving-wench?”
    “Ah, the serving-wench! She sampled the ale, also—not for the first time, I suspect!” Sir Malcolm innocently replied.
    “Rogue!” said Lady Davenham, appreciatively. “You haven’t altered