The Little Princess of Tower Hill

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Meade L. T.. The Little Princess of Tower Hill

THE LITTLE PRINCESS OF TOWER HILL

CHAPTER I. HER VERY YOUNG DAYS

CHAPTER II. FATHER'S SHORT VISITOR

CHAPTER III. SNUBBED

CHAPTER IV. THE STABLE CLOCK

CHAPTER V. THE EMPTY HUTCH

CHAPTER VI. JO'S ROOM

CHAPTER VII. IN VIOLET

CHAPTER VIII. CHOOSING HER COLORS

CHAPTER IX. A JOLLY PLAN

CHAPTER X. A GREAT FEAR

CHAPTER XI. GOING HOME

CHAPTER XII. IN THE WOOD

CHAPTER XIII. THANK GOD FOR ALL

TOM, PEPPER, AND TRUSTY

CHAPTER I. THE THREE FRIENDS

CHAPTER II. WHY HE WAS CALLED TRUSTY

CHAPTER III. TOM AT WORK

CHAPTER IV. IN TROUBLE

CHAPTER V. THE TEMPTATION

CHAPTER VI. TRUE TO HIS NAME

BILLY ANDERSEN AND HIS TROUBLES

CHAPTER I. BILLY'S BABY

CHAPTER II. MORE TROUBLE

CHAPTER III. TOM JONES' TRICK

CHAPTER IV. WHAT IT MEANT

CHAPTER V. BILLY'S ILLNESS

CHAPTER VI. THE END OF HIS TROUBLES

THE OLD ORGAN-MAN

CHAPTER I. PLAYING FOR LOVE

CHAPTER II. A FRIEND IN NEED

CHAPTER III. GLAD TIDINGS

CHAPTER IV. AT LAST

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All the other children who knew her thought Maggie a wonderfully fortunate little girl. She was sometimes spoken about as the "Little Princess of Tower Hill," for Tower Hill was the name of her father's place, and Maggie was his only child. The children in the village close by spoke of her with great respect, and looked at her with a good deal of longing and also no slight degree of envy, for while they had to run about in darned and shabby frocks, Maggie could wear the gayest and daintiest little dresses, and while they had to trudge sometimes even on little bare feet, Maggie could sit by her mother's side and be carried rapidly over the ground in a most delicious and luxurious carriage, or, better still, she might ride on her white pony Snowball, followed by a groom. The poor children envied Maggie, and admired her vastly, and the children of those people who, compared to Sir John Ascot, Maggie's father, might be considered neither rich nor poor, also thought her one of the most fortunate little girls in existence. Maggie was nearly eight years old, and from her very earliest days there had been a great fuss made about her. At the time of her birth bonfires had been lit, and oxen killed and roasted whole to be given away to the poor people, and Sir John and Lady Ascot did not seem at all disappointed at their baby being a girl instead of a son and heir to the old title and the fine old place. There was a most extraordinary fuss made over Maggie while she was a baby; her mother was never tired of visiting her grand nurseries and watching her as she lay asleep, or smiling at her and kissing her when she opened her big, bright blue eyes. The eyes in question were very pretty, so also was the little face, and the father and mother quite thought that there never was such a baby as their little Maggie. They had christened her Margarita Henrietta Villiers; these were all old family names, and very suitable to the child of proud old county folk. At least so Sir John thought, and his pretty young wife agreed with him, and she gave the servants strict directions that the baby was to be called Miss Margarita, and that the name was on no account whatever to be abridged or altered. This was very fine as long as the baby could only coo or make little inarticulate sounds, but that will of her own, which from the earliest minutes of her existence Maggie had manifested, came fully into play as soon as she found the full use of her tongue. She would call herself Mag-Mag, and would not answer to Margarita, or pay the smallest heed to any summons which came to her in this guise, and so, simply because they could not help themselves, Sir John and Lady Ascot had almost virtually to rechristen their little daughter, and before she was two years old Maggie was the only name by which she was known.

Years passed, and no other baby came to Tower Hill, and every year Maggie became of a little more importance, and was made a little more fuss about, and as a natural consequence was a little more spoiled. She was a very pretty child; her hair was wavy and curly, and exquisitely fine; in its darkest parts it was nut-brown, but round her temples, and wherever the light fell on it, it was shaded off to the brightest gold; her eyes were large, and blue, and well open; her cheeks were pink, her lips rosy, and she had a saucy, never-me-care look, which her father and mother and the visitors who saw her thought wonderfully charming, but which now and then her nurse and her patient governess, Miss Grey, objected to. All things that money could buy, and all things that love could devise, were lavished at Maggie's feet. Her smallest wishes were instantly granted; the most expensive toys were purchased for her; the most valuable presents were given to her day by day. "Surely," said the village children, "there can be no happier little girl in all the wide, wide world than our little princess. If there is a child who lives always, every day, in a fairy-land, it is Miss Maggie Ascot."

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"Spoil her! Bless me, I never saw a better child."

"Yes, my dear, she is all that is good and sweet to us, but she ought to be taught to obey her governess; indeed, I think we must not allow her to have the victory in this matter. If we sent Miss Grey away, Maggie would feel she had won the victory, and she would behave still more badly with the next governess."

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