My Pretty Maid; or, Liane Lester

"I did not think you would be so ready to take away another girl's chance, Liane."

"But he has broken with Miss Clarke. They quarreled last night," said Lottie Day.

"I did not mean Miss Clarke. I meant myself. Liane knows he has paid me some attention, and that I have set my cap at him! I thought she was my true friend, but I caught her making eyes at him last night!" Dolly exclaimed ruefully.

The gay girls all laughed at Dolly's jealousy, but Liane could not say a word for embarrassment, knowing in her heart how baseless were Dolly's hopes.

The angry little maiden continued:

"He told me last night that he was free from Miss Clarke; and I believe I could win him if no one tried to spoil the sport. I would never have introduced him to Liane if I had thought she would try to cut me out."

"Oh, Dolly, you know I have not tried. Could I help his coming to speak to me last night?" cried Liane.

"No, but you needn't have encouraged him by flirting when he spoke to you, blushing and rolling up your eyes."

A derisive groan went around among the merry band at Dolly's charge, and Mary Lang spoke up spiritedly:

"Dolly Dorr, you are simply making yourself ridiculous, putting in a claim to Mr. Devereaux because he happened to speak to you once or twice! Any one with half an eye can see he's in love with Liane, and I'll state for your benefit that he told her last night he sent her that bouquet of roses, and he wanted to walk home with her, only Mr. Dean was ahead of him!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" ran the chorus of voices, Liane drooping her head in blushing confusion, and Dolly pouting with disappointment, while she cried spitefully:

"He's nothing but a wretched flirt! He flirted with Miss Clarke, and then with me, and next with Liane! I'm glad he got ashamed of himself, and sneaked off; and I hope he will never come back!"

Her little fit of temper spoiled the rest of the day for the girls, and Liane Lester was glad to get away at six o'clock, where, after a while, she could be alone with her own thoughts.

But granny was sniveling, with her apron to her eyes, when she entered the poverty-stricken room.

"What is it, granny? Are you ill?" she asked.

"No, I have bad news!"

"Bad news?"

"Yes; I've heard from my daughter, your mother, at last. She's dying down to Boston, and wants you and me to come," with an artful sob.

"But, of course, we cannot go!" Liane said, with strange reluctance.

"But, of course, we can. I've got a little money; enough for the trip. I've just been waiting for you to come and help me to pack our clothes."

"That will not take long. Our wardrobes are not extensive. But, I—I don't want to go!" declared Liane.

"You unnatural child, not to want to see your poor dying mother!" snapped the old woman.

"She has been an unnatural mother!" answered the girl warmly.

"No matter about that! She is my child, and I want to see her before she dies, and you've got to go, willy-nilly! So go along with you and get the tea ready; then we will get packed to go on the first train!" declared granny, with grim resolution.

CHAPTER XVI.

A LOVE LETTER

Liane's little sewing chair was vacant the next day, and there was grief and surprise among the five girls present when Miss Bray explained the reason.

Liane had sent her a little note the night before, she said, telling her that her grandmother was taking her to Boston to see a dying relative, and she did not know when she should be back, but hoped Miss Bray would have work for her on her return. She left her dear love for all the girls, and hoped she should see them soon again.

Every one expressed sorrow but Dolly Dorr, who from spite and envy had suddenly changed from a friend to an enemy of Liane.

Dolly tossed her pretty, flaxen head scornfully and insinuated ugly things about Liane following Jesse Devereaux to Boston. A dying relative was a good excuse, but it could not fool Dolly Dorr, she said significantly.

The other girls took the part of the absent one, and even Miss Bray gently reproved Dolly for her slanderous words. The upshot of the matter was that she grew red and angry, and developed the rage of a little termagant. Taking offense at Miss Bray's rebuke, she angrily resigned her position, tossed her jaunty cap on her fluffy, yellow head, and flew home.

The ambition to captivate Jesse Devereaux had quite turned the silly little noddle, and she was passionately angry at Liane for what she denominated "her unfair rivalry."

But on reaching home and finding that her father had just been thrown out of work, Dolly was a little flustrated at her own precipitancy in leaving her place, especially as Mrs. Dorr, a weak, hard-worked woman, bewailed their misfortunes in copious tears.

"Don't cry like that, mamma, I know of a better place than Miss Bray's, where I can find work. Miss Clarke wants a maid," cried Dolly eagerly.

Mrs. Dorr's pride rebelled at first from her pretty daughter going into service like that, but the notion had quite taken hold of Dolly, and in the end the worried mother yielded to her persuasions, especially as the wages were liberal, and would help them so much in their present strait.

Dolly hurried off to Cliffdene, and asked for Miss Clarke, offering her services for the vacant place, as Liane Lester had gone away.

Roma's red-brown eyes flashed with joyful fire as she cried:

"Where has she gone?"

"Her grandmother took her to Boston to see a dying relative, miss."

"Ah!" exclaimed Roma, and her heart leaped with joy as she realized that granny had kept her promise to take Liane far away.

"Now I may have some chance of winning Jesse back again," she thought.

But Dolly's next words threw a damper on her springing hopes.

"Liane can't fool me with a tale of a dying relative! I believe she had an understanding with Jesse Devereaux to follow him down to Boston," she exclaimed spitefully.

Roma started violently, her rich color paling to ashen gray.

"Jesse Devereaux gone!" she cried, in uncontrollable agitation that betrayed her jealous heart to Dolly's keen eyes.

The girl thought shrewdly:

"She loves him even if he did tell me he was not engaged. Whew! won't she hate Liane when she knows all!"

And, taking advantage of Roma's mood, she added:

"Liane has been flirting for some time with Mr. Devereaux, and the night she got the beauty prize he sent her roses to wear, and voted for her, and offered to walk home with her that night, only he was disappointed, because Mr. Malcolm Dean had asked her first."

Roma, inwardly furious with jealous rage, tossed her proud head carelessly, and answered: