Off she went, leaving Maggie alone with the great, tall, broad gentleman, smiling at her from his frame in the door-way, but never speaking.  She went on dusting a wine-glass most assiduously.

“Well done, little girl,” came out a fine strong voice at last.  “Now I think that will do.  Come and show me the parlor where I may sit down, for I’ve had a long walk, and am very tired.”

Maggie took him into the parlor, which was always cool and fresh in the hottest weather.  It was scented by a great beau-pot filled with roses; and, besides, the casement was open to the fragrant court.  Mr. Buxton was so large, and the parlor so small, that when he was once in, Maggie thought when he went away, he could carry the room on his back, as a snail does its house.

“And so, you are a notable little woman, are you?” said he, after he had stretched himself (a very unnecessary proceeding), and unbuttoned his waistcoat, Maggie stood near the door, uncertain whether to go or to stay.  “How bright and clean you were making that glass!  Do you think you could get me some water to fill it?  Mind, it must be that very glass I saw you polishing.  I shall know it again.”

Maggie was thankful to escape out of the room; and in the passage she met her mother, who had made time to change her gown as well as her cap.  Before Nancy would allow the little girl to return with the glass of water she smoothed her short-cut glossy hair; it was all that was needed to make her look delicately neat.  Maggie was conscientious in trying to find out the identical glass; but I am afraid Nancy was not quite so truthful in avouching that one of the six, exactly similar, which were now placed on the tray, was the same she had found on the dresser, when she came back from telling her mistress of Mr. Buxton’s arrival.

Maggie carried in the water, with a shy pride in the clearness of the glass.  Her mother was sitting on the edge of her chair, speaking in unusually fine language, and with a higher pitched voice than common.  Edward, in all his Sunday glory, was standing by Mr. Buxton, looking happy and conscious.  But when Maggie came in, Mr. Buxton made room for her between Edward and himself, and, while she went on talking, lifted her on to his knee.  She sat there as on a pinnacle of honor; but as she durst not nestle up to him, a chair would have been the more comfortable seat.

“As founder’s line, I have a right of presentation; and for my dear old friend’s sake” (here Mrs. Browne wiped her eyes), “I am truly glad of it; my young friend will have a little form of examination to go through; and then we shall see him carrying every prize before him, I have no doubt.  Thank you, just a little of your sparkling cowslip wine.  Ah! this gingerbread is like the gingerbread I had when I was a boy.  My little lady here must learn the receipt, and make me some.  Will she?”

“Speak to Mr. Buxton, child, who is kind to your brother.  You will make him some gingerbread, I am sure.”