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“Won’t you come, then, Magsie? Shall I bring you a bit o’ pudding when I’ve had mine, and a custard and things?”

“Ye-e-es,” said Maggie, beginning to feel life a little more tolerable.

“Very well,” said Tom, going away. But he turned again at the door and said, “But you’d better come, you know. There’s the dessert–nuts, you know, and cowslip wine.”

Slowly she rose from amongst her scattered locks, and slowly she made her way downstairs. Then she stood leaning with one shoulder against the frame of the dining-parlour door, peeping in as it stood ajar. She saw Tom and Lucy with an empty chair between them, and there were the custards on a side-table. It was too much. She slipped in and went towards the empty chair. But she had no sooner sat down than she wished herself back again.

Mrs. Tulliver gave a little scream as she saw her, and felt such a “turn” that she dropped the large gravy-spoon into the dish, with the most serious results to the table-cloth.

Mrs. Tulliver’s scream made all eyes turn towards the same point as her own, and Maggie’s cheeks and ears began to burn, while Uncle Glegg, a kind-looking, white-haired old gentleman, said,–

“Heyday! What little gell’s this? Why, I don’t know her. Is it some little gell you’ve picked up in the road, Kezia?”

“Why, she’s gone and cut her hair herself,” said Mr. Tulliver in an undertone to Mr. Deane, laughing with much enjoyment. “Did you ever know such a little hussy as it is?”

“Why, little miss, you’ve made yourself look very funny,” said Uncle Pullet.

“Fie, for shame!” said Aunt Glegg in her loudest tone. “Little gells as cut their own hair should be whipped, and fed on bread and water–not come and sit down with their aunts and uncles.”

“Ay, ay,” said Uncle Glegg playfully “she must be sent to jail, I think, and they’ll cut the rest off there, and make it all even.”

“She’s more like a gipsy nor ever,” said Aunt Pullet in a pitying tone. “It’s very bad luck, sister, as the gell should be so brown; the boy’s fair enough. I doubt it’ll stand in her way i’ life, to be so brown.”

“She’s a naughty child, as’ll break her mother’s heart,” said Mrs. Tulliver, with the tears in her eyes.

“Oh my, Maggie,” whispered Tom, “I told you you’d catch it.”

The child’s heart swelled, and getting up from her chair she ran to her father, hid her face on his shoulder, and burst out into loud sobbing.

“Come, come, my wench,” said her father soothingly, putting his arm round her, “never mind; you was i’ the right to cut it off if it plagued you. Give over crying; father’ll take your part.”

“How your husband does spoil that child, Bessy,” said Mrs. Glegg in a loud “aside” to Mrs. Tulliver. “It’ll be the ruin of her if you don’t take care. My father niver brought his children up so, else we should ha’ been a different sort o’ family to what we are.”

Mrs. Tulliver took no notice of her sister’s remark, but threw back her cap-strings and served the pudding in silence.

When the dessert came the children were told they might have their nuts and wine in the summer-house, since the day was so mild; and they scampered out among the budding bushes of the garden like small animals getting from under a burning-glass.

Chapter VI.

THE MAGIC MUSIC.

The children were to pay an afternoon visit on the following day to Aunt Pullet at Garum Firs, where they would hear Uncle Pullet’s musical-box.

Already, at twelve o’clock, Mrs. Tulliver had on her visiting costume. Maggie was frowning, and twisting her shoulders, that she might, if possible, shrink away from the prickliest of tuckers; while her mother was saying, “Don’t, Maggie, my dear–don’t look so ugly!” Tom’s cheeks were looking very red against his best blue suit, in the pockets of which he had, to his great joy, stowed away all the contents of his everyday pockets.