Matilda thought so much over Lilac Lane and the words Mr. Richmond had
given her, that Maria charged her with being unsociable. Much Matilda
wished that she could have talked with her sister about those same
words; but Maria was in another line.
"You are getting so wrapped up in yourself," she said, "there is no
comfort in you. I might as well have no sister; and I guess Aunt Candy
means I shan't. She gives you all the good times, up in her room, among
the pretty things; I am only fit for washing dishes. Well, it's her
opinion; it isn't mine."
"I don't have a good time up there, Maria, indeed. I would a great deal
rather be down here washing dishes, or doing anything."
"What do you go there for, then?"
"I have to go."
"We didn't use to _have_ to do anything, when mamma was living. I
wouldn't do it, if I were you, if I didn't like it."
"I don't like it," said Matilda; "but I think I ought to do what Aunt
Candy wishes, as long as it is not something wrong."
"She'll come to that," said Maria; "or it'll be something you will
think wrong; and then we shall have a time! I declare, I believe I
shall be glad!"
"What for, Maria?"
"Why! Then I shall have you again. You'll come on my side. It's lonely
to have the dirty work all to myself. I don't suppose you mind it."
"Indeed, but I do," said Matilda. "I don't like to sit up-stairs
darning stockings."
"And reading. And I don't know what."
"The reading is worse," said Matilda, sighing. "It is something I do
not understand."
"What does she make you do it for?"
"I don't know," said Matilda, with another sigh. "But I want to do
something else dreadfully, all the time."
The darning was very tedious indeed the morning after this talk.
Matilda had got her head full of schemes and plans that looked
pleasant; and she was eager to turn her visions into reality. It was
stupid to sit in her aunt's room, taking up threads on her long needle
exactly and patiently, row after row. It had to be done exactly, or
Mrs. Candy would have made her pick it all out again.
"Yes, that is very well; that is neat," said Mrs. Candy, when Matilda
brought her the stocking she had been at work on, with the heel
smoothly run. "That will do. Now you may begin upon another one. There
they are, in that basket."
"But, Aunt Candy," said Matilda, in dismay, "don't you think I have
learned now how to do it?"
"Yes, pretty well."
"Then, need I do any more?"
"A little further practice will not hurt you. Practice makes perfect,
you know."
"But do you mean that I must darn all those stockings."
"Aren't they yours?"
"Yes, ma'am; I believe they are."
"Who should darn them, then?"
Matilda very sorrowfully remembered the hand which did darn them once
and thought it no hardship. Her hand went swiftly up to her eyes before
she spoke again.
"I think it is right I should do them, and I will. May I take them away
and do them in my own room?"
"You may do exactly what I tell you, my dear."
"Does it make any difference, Aunt Candy?"
"That is something you need not consider. All you have to do is to obey
orders. The more promptly and quietly, the easier for you, Matilda."
Matilda coloured, bridled, kept down the wish to cry, and began upon
the second heel of her stockings. She was tired of that long needle and
its long needleful of double thread.
"Matilda," said her aunt, "put down your stocking and look at me."
Which Matilda did, much surprised.
"When you wish to answer any thing I say, I prefer always that you
should answer me in words."
"Ma'am?" said Matilda.
"You heard me."
"But I did not understand you."
"Again!" said Clarissa.
"I do not like to be answered by gestures. Do you understand that?"
"No, ma'am; I do not know what you mean by saying it."
"You do not know that you answered me by a toss of your head just now?"
"No, ma'am; certainly not."
"I am very glad to hear it. Don't do it again."
It would have been very like Matilda to do it again just there; but
bewilderment quite put down other emotions for the time, except the
sense of being wronged, and that is a feeling very hard to bear.
Matilda had scarcely known it before in her little life; the sensation
was as new as it was painful. She was utterly unconscious of having
done anything that ought to be found fault with. The darning needle
went very fast for the next half-hour; and Matilda's cheek was bright.
"They haven't got a fire up-stairs, have they?" Maria questioned, when
her little sister rejoined her.
"No, not to-day. Why?"
"You look as if you had been somewhere where it was warm."
But Matilda did not say what sort of fire had warmed her.
She forgot all about it, and about all other grievances, as soon as she
was free to go out in the afternoon; for now some of her visions were
to be realised. Yesterday afternoon had been so pleasant, on the whole,
that Matilda determined to seek a renewal of the pleasure. And first
and foremost, she had determined to get Mrs. Eldridge a tea-kettle. She
had money enough yet; only her Bible and yesterday's purchases had come
out of her twenty-five dollars. "A tea-kettle--and what else?" thought
Matilda. "Some towels? She does dreadfully want some towels. But then,
I cannot get everything!"
Slowly going towards the corner, with her eyes on the ground, her two
hands were suddenly seized by somebody, and she was brought to a
stand-still.
"Norton!" cried Matilda, joyously.
"Yes. What has become of you?"
"Oh, I have been so busy!"
"School?" said Norton.
"Oh no! I don't go to school. I have things to do at home."
"Things!" said Norton. "Why don't you speak straight? What things? your
lessons?"
"I don't have lessons, Norton," said the child, patiently, lifting her
eyes to Norton's face. "My aunt gives me other things to do."
"Don't you have lessons at all?" said Norton.
"Not now. I wish I did."
"Where are you going now, Pink?"
"Pink!" echoed Matilda.
"Yes, that's your name. Where are you going? Come home with me."
"I have got business, Norton."
"You haven't got"--said Norton, peering round--"yes, I declare she
_has_ got--that Bible tucked under her arm! Are you going to see nobody
again?"
Matilda nodded.
"I'll go too," said Norton, "and find out what it all means. Give me
the book, and I'll carry it."
"But, Norton!" said Matilda, holding the Bible fast, "I would like to
have you, but I am afraid you wouldn't like it."
"Like what, Pink? The Bible?"
"Oh no. Oh _yes_, I wish you did like that; but I mean, where I am
going."
"Do you like it?"
"I like to go. I don't like the place, Norton, for the place is very
disagreeable."
"So I should think. But I might like to go too, you know. I'm going to
try."
Matilda stood still and looked very dubious.
"I'm going," Norton repeated, laughing. "You want me to go, don't you?"
"Why, I would like it very much, if you would not"----
"What? No, I will not," said Norton, shaking his head.
"But, Norton, I am going into Mr. Forshew's, first."
"Well; I can go into Mr. Forshew's too. I've been _there_ before."
"I am going to buy a tea-kettle."
"I shall not interfere with that," said Norton.
"But I am going to get a tea-kettle and take it along with me--to Lilac
Lane."
"What for? They'll send it if you want it."
"I want it immediately, and Mr. Forshew's boy is never there when he is
wanted, you know."
"_You_ want the tea-kettle immediately. You are not going to make tea
immediately, are you?"
"Exactly that, Norton. That is one of the things I am going to do. And
the poor old woman I am going to see has no tea-kettle."
"Then I don't believe she has tea."
"Oh yes, but I know she has tea, Norton."
"And bread and butter?"
"Yes, and bread and butter too," said Matilda, nodding her little head
positively. Norton looked at her with a perfectly grave face.
"It must be a very odd house," said he, "I don't see how you can be so
sure of things."
Matilda began to walk on towards the corner.
"Who took her tea and bread and butter?" said Norton. "I suppose you
know, if you know the rest."
"Of course, somebody must have done it," said Matilda, hesitating.
"I wonder if there was a Pink anywhere among the things," said Norton.
"Did you see anything of it?"
Matilda could not help laughing, and they both laughed; and so they
went into Mr. Forshew's shop. It was a little, low shop, just on the
corner; but, to be sure, there was a great variety, and a good
collection of things there. All sorts of iron things, and a great many
sorts of tin things; with iron dust, and street dust, plentifully
overlying the shop and everything in it. Stoves were there in variety;
chains, and brooms, and coal-skuttles; coffee-mills, and axes, and
lamps; tin pails, and earthen batter jars; screws, and nails, and
hinges, and locks; and a telegraph operator was at work in a corner.
Several customers were there too; Matilda had to wait.
"It is odd now," said Norton. "I suppose, if I wanted to spend money
here, I should buy everything else in the world _but_ a tea-kettle.
That's what it is to be a girl."
"Nonsense!" said Matilda, and the set of her head was inimitable.
Norton laughed.
"That's what it is to be a Pink," he said. "I forgot. I don't believe
there is another girl in town wants a tea-kettle but you. What else do
you want, Pink?"
"A great deal," said Matilda; "but I can't get all I want."
"You don't want an axe, for instance; nor a coffee-mill; nor a tin
pail, nor an iron chain, nor a dipper; nor screws, nor tacks; nor a
lamp, do you? nor a box of matches"----
"Oh yes, Norton! Oh yes, that is just what I do want; a box of matches.
I never should have thought of it."
"How about stoves, Pink? Here are plenty."
"She has a stove. Don't be ridiculous, Norton."
And Mr. Forshew being just then at leisure, Matilda purchased a little
tin tea-kettle, and came out with it in triumph.
"Now is that all?" said Norton. "How about the bread and butter?
Perhaps it has given out."
"No, I think not. I guess there is enough. Perhaps we had better take
another loaf of bread, though. We shall pass the baker's on our way."
"Have you got money enough for every thing you want, Pink? does your
aunt give you whatever you ask for?"
"Oh, I never ask her for anything," said Matilda.
"Take it without asking?"
"I do not ask, and she does not give me, Norton. But once she did, when
she first came; she gave me, each of us, twenty-five dollars. I have
got that, all that is left of it."
"How much is left of it?"
"Why, I don't know exactly. I spent four dollars for something else;
then eighty-five cents yesterday; and a dollar just, to-day. That
makes"----
"Five eighty-five," said Norton. "And that out of twenty-five, leaves
nineteen fifteen."
"I've got that, then," said Matilda.
"And no hope of more? That won't do, Pink. Nineteen dollars won't last
for ever at this rate. Here's the baker's."
The bread Norton paid for and carried off, and the two stepped along
briskly to Lilac Lane.
Matilda was very glad privately that she had swept Mrs. Eldridge's
floor yesterday. The place looked so much the more decent; though as it
was, Norton cast his eyes around him whistling low, and Matilda knew
well enough that he regarded it as a very odd place for either himself
or Pink to find themselves in.
"What's to be done now?" he inquired of her, as she was putting the
bread and matches on a shelf of the cupboard.
"The first thing is to make a fire, Norton. I've got wood enough here.
And the matches."
"_You_ have got," said Norton, stooping to fetch out the sticks from
the lower cupboard where Matilda had stowed them. "Did you get it?
Where did you get it?"
"Mr. Swain split it up for me,--at the iron shop, you know."
"Did you go to the iron shop for it? And bring it back yourself?"
"There was nobody else to do it," said Matilda.
"You're a brick!" said Norton. "That's what I said. But is this all,
Pink?"
"It is plenty, Norton."
"Plenty for to-day. It won't last for any more. What then?"
"I don't know," said Matilda. "O Norton, are _you_ going to make the
fire?"
Norton showed that such was his intention, and showed besides that he
knew very well what he was about. Matilda, after looking on admiringly,
ran off to the pump with her kettle. The pump was at some distance;
before she could fill her kettle and come back, Norton overtook her. He
quietly assumed the tea-kettle, as a matter of course.
"Oh, thank you, Norton! how good you are," Matilda exclaimed. "It was
heavy."
"Look here. Do you come here to do this sort of thing all by yourself?"
said Norton.
"I cannot help that," said Matilda. "And I like to do it, too."
"You mustn't," said Norton.
"Who will, then, Norton? And the poor old woman cannot do anything for
herself."
"Isn't there somebody in the world to take care of her?"
"No; nobody."
"That's a shame. And I don't believe it, either."
"Oh, but there is nobody, Norton. She is quite alone. And if some one
will not help her, she must go without everything."
Norton said no more, but he looked very much disgusted with this state
of society. He silently watched what Matilda was doing, without putting
in any hinderance or hinting at any annoyance further, which, she
thought, was very good of him. Instead of that, he looked after the
fire, and lifted the kettle when it was needful. Matilda, as yesterday,
made the tea, and spread bread and butter, and cooked a herring; and
then had the satisfaction of seeing the poor old woman luxuriating over
what was to her a delicious meal. She had said very little since their
coming in, but eyed all they did, with a gradual relaxing of the lines
of her face. Something like pleasure, something like comfort, was
stealing into her heart, and working to soften those hard lines.
Matilda waited now until the meal should be quite finished before she
brought forward anything of different interest.
"That's a new kettle," was the first remark, made while Matilda was
clearing away the remains of the supper.
"How do you like it?" said Norton.
The old woman looked at him, she had done that a great deal already,
and answered, "Who be you?"
"I'm the fellow that brought the kettle from the shop," said Norton.
"Whose kettle is it?"
"It ought to be your's--it's on your stove."
"It is your's, Mrs. Eldridge," said Matilda.
"Well, I hain't had a tea-kettle," said the old woman, meditatively,
"since--I declare, I don't know when 'twas. I hain't had a tea-kettle,
not since my old un fell down the well. I never could get it out. That
one hadn't no kiver."
"Don't let this one get down in the well," said Norton.
"I shan't go to the well no more," said Mrs. Eldridge. "When I had a
place, and a well, and a bucket, it was good times! That ain't my
kettle."
"Yes, Mrs. Eldridge, it is," said Matilda. "It is your's; and it just
fits the stove hole."
"A kettle's a good thing," said the old woman. "It looks good."
"Now would you like to have a little reading again?" Matilda inquired,
bringing out her Bible.
"Have you got anything more about the--what was it? I don' know what
'twas."
"About the shepherd? the Good Shepherd?"
"You may read a bit about that," said the old woman. "There ain't no
shepherds now, is there?"
"Plenty of 'em," said Norton.
"It don't seem as if there was no place for 'em to keep the sheep. _I_
don't see none. But he used for to be a shepherd; and he took good care
of 'em, he did."
"The Lord Jesus is the Good Shepherd; and He takes good care of His
sheep," said Matilda. "He cares for them always. He cares for you, Mrs.
Eldridge."
The old woman made no answer to this; but instead, sat with so
meditative a look upon her face that Matilda, though she had her book
open to read, forbore, and waited.
"Did He send you?" said Mrs. Eldridge.
Norton glanced a quick look of amusement at Matilda, but Matilda simply
answered. "Yes."
"I didn't know as there was any one as cared," she said, slowly.
Matilda began to read, upon that; giving her the twenty-third psalm
again; then the tenth chapter of John; finishing with one or two
passages in the Revelation. Norton stood in the doorway while she read,
looking out and looking in, very quiet; and Mrs. Eldridge sat and
listened and gave tremulous shakes of her old head, and was very quiet
too.
"I must go now," said Matilda, when she had done and had paused a few
minutes.
"It has a good sound," said the old woman.
"It's true," said Matilda.
And she and Norton took their leave. Then began a joyous walk home.
"Pink," said Norton, when they were got a little way from the house,
"you made your tea in a tea-cup."
"Yes; there is only a wretched little tin tea-pot there, not fit to be
used; it is in such a state."
"No spoons either?"
"No, and no spoons. There is hardly anything there at all, Norton."
"I don't see how people come to be so poor," said Norton.
"No, _I_ don't," said Matilda. "But she is old, you see, and cannot
help herself, and has no one left that does care about her. Nobody in
the world, I mean."
"That house is in a tremendous condition," said Norton. "For dirt I
mean."
"Yes, I know it."
"I don't see why somebody hasn't cleaned it before now."
"Why, Norton, who should do it? None of the neighbours care anything
about her."
"Is she bad?"
"No, Norton, not bad at all; but they are poor too, and ill, some of
them, and they have their own work to do, and their own things to get,
and they haven't anything to spare for her."
"She was glad of that tea-kettle."
"Wasn't she! I could see that."
"But I say, Pink! I don't see how people come to be so poor. There's
money enough."
"For some people," said Matilda.
"Money enough for everybody."
"Perhaps, if it was divided," said Matilda. "But, Norton, it isn't. The
rich people have got it almost all."
"Have they?" said Norton. "Then they ought to look out for such poor
chaps as this."
"So I think, Norton," said Matilda, eagerly.
"But, Pink, _you_ can't do it. You are only one, and you can't take
care of all Lilac Lane, to begin with. That's what I am thinking about."
"No, not all the lane. But I can do something. I can read to Mrs.
Eldridge, and Mrs. Rogers."
"You can't buy tea-kettles, though, for Mrs. Eldridge and Mrs. Rogers,
with the tea, and the sugar, and the bread and butter, and the fish,
and the mutton-chops they will all want. Your nineteen dollars will
soon be gone at that rate."
"Mutton-chops!" echoed Matilda. "Norton, they do not see anything so
good as mutton-chops."
"They ought to," said Norton. "They have as much right as other folks."
"But they _can't_, Norton."
"Yes, they can, Pink. We'll take 'em some for once. They shall know how
mutton tastes."
"O Norton!" said Matilda in a low voice of delight, "how good that
would be!"
"But what I _say_," continued the boy, with emphasis,--"you cannot go
on doing this. Your money will not last."
"I can do what I can," said Matilda, softly.
"But what's the use, Pink? All you can do will just touch one old
woman, perhaps, a few times; and then Lilac Lane will not be any better
off than it was. And anyhow, you only touch one. What's the use?"
"Why--the use of that one."
"Yes, but it don't really make any difference to speak of, when you
think of all the people that you cannot help. The world won't be any
better; don't you see?"
"If I was the one to be helped, I should think it made a great deal of
difference, Norton."
Norton could not dispute that view of the case, though he whistled over
it.
"Pink, will you come and play croquet to-morrow?"
"To-morrow? I will see if I can," said Matilda, with a brightening face.
"What's to hinder you?"
"I don't know that anything. If Aunt Candy will let me."
"Does _she_ hinder you?"
"Sometimes," Matilda said, hesitating.
"What for?"
"I do not know. That puzzles me, Norton."
"_How_ does she hinder you?" said the boy, stopping short with a scowl
upon his brow.
"She won't let me go out, sometimes; I don't know why. Then besides, I
have to spend a good deal of time reading to her, and darning
stockings; and I have a great many other things to do, Norton."
"Well, come to-morrow, Pink; or I shall come after you. Hulloa! see
that squirrel"----
And Norton set off on such a race and chase after the squirrel, that
Matilda stopped to look on in sheer admiration. The race was not
fruitful of anything, however, but admiration, and the rest of the way
they hurried home.
It was a trembling question with Matilda, could she go to play croquet
the next day? She could not go in her work dress; and she feared to
change her dress and so draw attention, lest her aunt should put a stop
to her going out at all. She debated the matter a good deal, and
finally concluded to make an open affair of it and ask leave.
"To go to Mrs. Laval's," said Mrs. Candy, meditating.
"Who is going to play croquet, besides you?" inquired Clarissa.
"I do not think anybody is to be there besides me," said Matilda.
"Well," said Mrs. Candy, "I suppose you had better go, with my
compliments and thanks to Mrs. Laval. Put on your white dress, Matilda,
and I will tie a ribband round your waist."
The white dress and the black ribband were duly put on, and Matilda set
out, very happy indeed, only sorry that Maria was left behind. She got
a glad welcome from Norton, who was at the iron gate watching for her.
And when she came to the door of the house, Matilda was fain to stand
still and look, everything was so beautiful. It was very different from
last winter, when the snow covered all the world. Now the grass was
soft and green, cut short and rolled smooth, and the sunlight made it
seem almost golden. The rose-bushes were heavy and sweet with great
cabbage roses and delicate white roses, and gay yellow roses made an
elegant variety. Overhead, the golden clusters of a laburnum tree
dropped as if to meet them. Then there were pinks, and violets, and
daisies; and locust trees a little way off, standing between the house
and the sun, made the air sweet with their blossoms. Every breath was
charged with some delicious perfume or other. The house stood
hospitably and gaily open in summer dress; the farm country lay rich in
the sun towards the west; and the mountains beyond, having lost all
their white coating of snow long ago, were clothed in a kind of drapery
of purple mist.
"What's the matter?" said Norton.
"It's so beautiful!" said Matilda.
"Oh, is that all! Come in. Mamma wants to see you."
In the house, over floors marble and matted, through rooms green with
the light that came through the blinds, cool in shadow, but from which
the world without looked like a glittering fairyland, so they went
passing from one to another, till they found the mistress of the house.
She was not in the house, but in a deep wicker chair on the shady side
of the verandah.
"Here she is!" the lady exclaimed as she saw them, throwing aside the
book which had been in her hands, and drawing Matilda into her arms
instead. "My dear child--so you've come. Norton and I are very glad.
How do you do? You are thin."
"Am I?" said Matilda.
"I am afraid you are. What are you going to do? play croquet? it's too
warm yet. Sit down here and have some strawberries first. Norton, you
get her some strawberries."
She put Matilda affectionately into a chair and took off her hat.
"And how do you like croquet?"
"Oh, very much! But I do not know how to play yet," said Matilda.
"Norton will teach you."
"Yes, ma'am," Matilda said, with a happy look.
"I think Norton is making a little sister of you," Mrs. Laval said
tenderly, drawing her hand down Matilda's cheek. "Do you know, Norton
once had a little sister as old as you?"
The lady's tone had changed. Matilda only looked, she dared not speak
in answer to this.
"I think he wants to make a sister of you," Mrs. Laval repeated
wistfully, her hand dropping to Matilda's hand and taking hold of that.
"How would you like to be Norton's sister?"
"Oh, I should like it very much!" Matilda answered, half eagerly, but
her answer touched with a soberness that belonged to the little sister
and daughter that Norton and Mrs. Laval had lost. There was a delicate,
sensitive manner about both her face and her voice as she spoke,
perfectly intelligible to the eyes that were watching her; and the
response to it was startling, for Mrs. Laval suddenly took the child in
her arms, upon her lap, though Matilda never knew how she got there,
and clasping her close, half smothered her with kisses, some of which
Matilda felt were wetted with tears. It was a passion of remembered
tenderness and unsatisfied longing. Matilda was astonished and passive
under caresses she could not return, so close was the clasp of the arms
that held her, so earnest the pressure of the lips that seemed to
devour every part of her face by turns. In the midst of this, Norton
came with the strawberries, and he too stood still and offered no
interruption. But when a pause in Mrs. Laval's ecstasy gave him a
chance, he said low,--
"Mrs. Beechy, mamma, and Miss Beechys, are there."
Mrs. Laval was quiet a moment, hiding her face in Matilda's neck; then
she put her gently down, rose up, and met some ladies who were coming
round the corner of the verandah, with a tone and bearing so cool, and
careless, and light, that Matilda asked her ears if it was possible.
The guests were carried off into the house; Matilda and Norton were
left alone.
It was Matilda's turn then. She set down the plate of strawberries
Norton had given her, and hid her face in her hands.
Norton bore this for a minute, and no more. Then one of his hands came
upon one of Matilda's, and the other upon the other, very gently but
decidedly suggesting that they should come down.
"Pink!" said he, "this may do for mamma and you, but it is very poor
entertainment for me. Come! leave that, and eat your strawberries, and
let us go on the lawn. The sun will do now."
Matilda felt that this was reasonable, and she put by her own
gratification. Nevertheless her eyes and eyelashes were all glittering
when she lifted them up.
"What has mamma done to you?" said Norton, wondering. "Here, Pink, do
you like strawberries?"
"If you please, Norton," said Matilda, "couldn't I have them another
time? I don't want them now."
"Then they may wait till we have done playing," said Norton; "and then
I'll have some too. Now come."
The great trees cast a flickering shadow on the grass before the house.
Norton planted his hoops and distributed colours, and presently
Matilda's sober thoughts were driven as many ways as the balls; and
_they_ went very widely indeed.
"You must take _aim_, Matilda?" Norton cried.
"At what?"
"Why, you must learn at what; that's the game. You must fight; just as
I fight you. You ought to touch my ball now, if you can. I don't
believe you can. You might try."
Matilda tried, and hit it. The game went on prosperously. The sun got
lower, and the sunbeams came more scattering, and the breeze just
stirred over the lawn, not enough to bend the little short blades of
grass. Mrs. Laval's visitors went away, and she came out on the
verandah to look at the children; they were too much engaged to look at
her. At last the hard-fought battle came to an end. Norton brought out
another plate of strawberries for himself along with Matilda's, and the
two sat down on the bank under the locust trees to eat them. The sun
was near going down beyond the mountains by this time, and his setting
rays changed the purple mist into a bath of golden haze.
"How nice and cold these are," said Matilda.
"They have been in the ice. That makes things cold," observed Norton.
"And being warm one's self makes them seem colder," said Matilda.
"Why, are you warm, Pink?"
"Yes, indeed. I have had to fight you so hard, you know."
"You did very well," said Norton, in a satisfied tone.
"Norton, how pretty it all is to-night."
Norton ate strawberries.
"Very different from Lilac Lane," said Matilda, looking at the china
plate in her hand, on which the painting was very fine and delicate.
"Rather different," said Norton.
"Norton,--I was thinking of what you said yesterday; how odd it is that
some people should be rich and others poor."
"I am glad I am one of the first sort," said Norton, disposing of a
very large strawberry.
"But isn't it strange?"
"That is what I said, Pink."
"It don't seem right," said Matilda, thoughtfully
"Yes, it does."
"It doesn't to me."
"How can you help it?"
"Why _I_ cannot help it, Norton; but if everybody that is rich chose,
they could help it."
"How?"
"Don't you think they ought?"
"Well how, Pink? If people were industrious and behaved right, they
wouldn't be poor, you see."
"Oh, but, Norton, they would sometimes. There is Mrs. Eldridge, and
there are the poor women at Mrs. Rogers', and a great many more like
them."
"Well if _somebody_ hadn't behaved wrong," said Norton, "they wouldn't
be so hard up."
"Oh, but that does not help them."
"Not much."
"And they ought to be helped," said Matilda, slowly examining the
painted flowers on the china in her hand, and remembering Mrs.
Eldridge's cracked delf tea-cup.
"That plate would buy up the whole concern where we were yesterday,
wouldn't it?"
Matilda looked up suddenly, at Norton's thus touching her thought; but
she did not like to pursue it. Norton, however, had no scruples.
"Yes; and these strawberries, I suppose, would feed her for a week--the
old woman, I mean. And one of our drawing-room chairs would furnish her
house, pretty near. Yes, I guess it would. And I really think one week
of the coal we burned a few months ago would keep her, and Mrs. Rogers
too, warm all winter. And I am certain one of mamma's dresses would
clothe her for a year. Seems queer, don't it."
"And she is cold, and hungry, and uncomfortable," said Matilda. The two
looked at each other.
"But then, you know, if mamma gave one of her dresses to clothe this
old woman, she would have to give another to clothe some other old
woman; and the end would be, she would have no dresses for herself. And
if she tried to warm all the cold houses, she wouldn't have firing to
cook her own dinner. You see it has to be so, Pink; some rich and some
poor. And suppose these strawberries had been changed into some poor
somebody's dinner, I couldn't have had them to give to you. Do you see,
Pink?"
"But, O Norton!" Matilda began, and stopped. "These strawberries are
very nice."
"But you would rather turn them into mutton-chops and give them away?"
said Norton. "I dare say you would! Wouldn't you?"
"Norton," said Matilda, cautiously, "do you think anything I _could_
have bought with that dollar would have given me so much pleasure as
that tea-kettle yesterday?"
"It was a good investment," said Norton. "But it is right to eat
strawberries, Pink. Where are you going to stop?"
"I'll take Mrs. Eldridge some strawberries," said Matilda, smiling,
"when they get plenty."
"Well, agreed," said Norton. "Let us take her some other things too.
I've got money. Stop--let me put these plates in the house and fetch a
piece of paper;--then we'll see what we'll take her."
Matilda sat while he was gone, looking at the golden mist on the
mountains and dreaming.
"Now," said Norton, throwing himself on the turf beside her, with his
piece of paper, and thrusting his hand deep down in his pocket to get
at his pencil, "Now, let us see what we will do."
"Norton," said Matilda, joyously, "this is better than croquet."
Norton looked up with those bright eyes of his, but his reply was to
proceed to business.
"Now for it, Pink. What shall we do for the old lady? What does she
want? Pooh! she wants everything; but what to begin with?"
"Strawberries, you said."
"Strawberries! Not at all. That's the last thing. I mean we'll fix her
up, Pink. Now what does she want to be comfortable. It is only one old
woman; but we shall feel better if she is comfortable. Or you will."
"But what do you mean, Norton? how much can we do?"
"Just as much as we've a mind to. I've got money, I tell you. Come;
begin. What goes down first?"
"Why, Norton," said Matilda, in an ecstasy, "it is like a fairy story."
"What?"
"This, that we are doing. It is like a fairy story exactly."
"How is it like fairy stories?" said Norton. "_I_ don't know."
"Did you never read fairy stories?"
"Never. What are they like?"
"Why some of them are just like this," said Matilda. "People are rich,
and can do what they please; and they set out to get things together
for a feast, or to prepare a palace for some princess; and first one
nice thing is got, and then another, and then some thing else; until by
and by you feel as if you had been at the feast, or seen the palace, or
had done the shopping. I do."
"This isn't for a princess," said Norton.
"No, nor a palace," said Matilda; "but it seems just as good."
"Go on, Pink; let us quit princesses and get to the real business. What
do you want to get, first thing?"
"_First_ thing," said Matilda, "I think would be to get somebody to
clean the house. There are only two little rooms. It wouldn't be much.
Don't you think so, Norton?"
"As we cannot build a palace, and have it new, I should say the old one
had better be cleaned."
"Sabrina Rogers would do it, I dare say," Matilda went on; "and maybe
that would be something good for her."
"Teach her to clean her own?" said Norton.
"Why no, Norton; her own is clean. I meant, maybe she would be glad of
the pay."
"There's another princess, eh, that wants a palace?" said Norton. "If
we could, we would new build Lilac Lane, wouldn't we? But then, I
should want to make over the people that live in it."
"So should I, and that is the hardest. But perhaps, don't you think the
people _would_ be different, if they had things different?"
"I'm certain I should be different, if I lived where they do," said
Norton. "But go on, Pink; let us try it on--what's her name. We have
only cleaned her house yet."
"The first thing, then, is a bedstead, Norton."
"A bedstead! What does she sleep on?"
"On the floor; with rags and straw, and I think a miserable
make-believe of a bed. No sheets, no blankets, nor anything. It is
dreadful."
"Rags and straw," said Norton. "Then a bedstead wants a bed on it,
Pink; and blankets or coverlets or something, and sheets, and all that."
Matilda watched Norton's pencil as it noted the articles.
"Then she wants some towels, and a basin of some sort to wash in."
"H'm!" said Norton. "Herself, I hope?"
"Yes, I hope so. But she has nothing to make herself clean with."
"Then a stand, and basin, and towels; and a pitcher, Pink, I suppose,
to hold water."
"Yes, a pitcher, or jug, or something. We want to get the cheapest
things we can. And soap."
"Let's have plenty of that," said Norton, putting down soap. "Now
then--what next?"
"A little wooden table, Norton; she has nothing but a chair to set her
tea on."
"A table. And a carpet?"
"Oh, no, Norton; that's not necessary. It is warm weather now. She does
not want that. But she _does_ want a pail for water. I have to take the
tea-kettle to the pump."
Norton at this laughed, and rolled over on the grass in his amusement.
Having thus refreshed himself, he came back to business.
"Has she got anything to go on her fire, except a tea-kettle?"
"Not much. A saucepan would be a very useful thing, and not cost much.
I bought one the other day; so I know."
"What's a saucepan?" said Norton. "A pan to make sauce in?"
It was Matilda's turn to laugh. "Poor Mrs. Eldridge don't have many
puddings, I guess, to make sauce for," she said.
"Well, Pink, now we come, don't we, to the eating line. We must stock
her up."
"Put down a broom first, Norton."
"A broom! here goes."
"Yes, you can't think how much I have wanted a broom there. And a
tea-pot. Oh yes, and a little milk pitcher, and sugar bowl. Can't we?"
"I should think we could," said Norton. "Tea-cups?"
"I guess not. She's got two; and three plates. Now, Norton--the
eatables. What did you think of?"
"I suppose there isn't anything in the house," said Norton.
"Nothing at all, except what we took there."
"Then she wants everything."
"But you see, Norton, she can't do any thing herself; she couldn't use
some things. There would be no use----"
"No use in what?"
"Flour, for instance. She couldn't make bread."
"I don't know anything about flour," said Norton. "But she can use
bread when she sees it, I will take my affidavit."
"Oh yes, bread, Norton. We will take her some bread, and a little
butter; and sugar; and tea. She has got some, but it won't last long."
"And I said she should have a mutton-chop."
"I dare say she would like it."
"I wonder if a bushel of potatoes wouldn't be the best thing of all."
"Potatoes would be excellent," said Matilda, delightedly. "I suppose
she would be very glad of anything of that sort. Let's take her some
cheese, Norton."
"Cheese. And strawberries. And cake, Pink."
"I am afraid we should be taking too much at once. We had better leave
the cake to another time."
"There's something we forgot," said Norton. "Mr. What's-his-name will
not split up box covers for your fire every day; we must send in a load
of firing. Wood, I guess."
"Oh, how good!" said Matilda. "You see, Norton, she has had no wood to
make a fire even to boil her kettle."
"And no kettle to boil," added Norton.
"So that she went without even tea. I don't know how she lived. Did you
see how she enjoyed the tea yesterday?"
"Pink," said Norton, "do you expect to go there to make her fire every
day?"
"No, Norton, I cannot every day; I cannot always get away from home.
But I was thinking--I know some other girls that I guess would help;
and if there were several of us, you know, it would be very easy."
"Well," said Norton, "we have fixed up this palace and princess now.
What do you think of getting the princess a new dress or two?"
"Oh, it would be very nice, Norton. She wants it."
"Mamma will do that. Could _you_ get it, Pink? would you know how?
supposing your purse was long enough."
"Oh yes, Norton. Of course I could!"
"Then you shall do it. Who will see to all the rest?"
"To buy the things, do you mean?"
"To buy them, and to choose them, and to get them to their place, and
all that?"
"Why, you and I, Norton. Shan't we?"
"I think that is a good arrangement. The next question is, when? When
shall we send the things there?"
"We must get the rooms cleaned. I will see about that. Then, Norton,
the sooner the better; don't you think so?"
"How is it in the fairy stories?"
"Oh, it's all done with a breath there; that is one of the delightful
things about it. You speak, and the genie comes; and you tell him what
you want, and he goes and fetches it; there is no waiting. And yet, I
don't know," Matilda added; "I don't wish this could be done in a
breath."
"What?" said a voice close behind her. The two looked up, laughing, to
see Mrs. Laval. She was laughing too.
"What is it, that is not to be done in a breath?"
"Furnishing a palace, mamma--(getting it cleaned first,) and setting up
a princess."
Mrs. Laval wanted to hear about it, and gradually she slipped down on
the grass beside Matilda, and drew an arm round her, while she listened
to Norton's story. Norton made quite a story of it, and told his mother
what Matilda had been doing the day before in Lilac Lane, and what
schemes they had presently on hand. Mrs. Laval listened curiously.
"Dear, is it quite safe for you to go to such a place?" she asked
Matilda then.
"Oh yes, ma'am."
"But it cannot be pleasant."
"Oh yes, ma'am!" Matilda answered, more earnestly.
"How can it be?"
"I thought it would not be pleasant, at first," said Matilda; "but I
found it was."
"What made it pleasant, dear?"
"If you saw the poor old woman, Mrs. Laval, and how much she wanted
comfort, I think you would understand it."
"Would you come and see _me_, if I wanted comfort?" the lady inquired.
Matilda smiled at the possibility. Then something in Mrs. Laval's face
reminded her that even with such a beautiful house and so rich
abundance of things that money can buy, there might be a sad want of
something that money cannot buy; and she grew grave again.
"Would you?" Mrs. Laval repeated.
And Matilda said "Yes." And Mrs. Laval again put her face down to
Matilda's face and pressed her lips upon hers, again and again, as if
she drew some sweetness from them. Not so passionately as the time
before; yet with quiet earnestness. Then with one hand she stroked the
hair from Matilda's forehead, and drew it forward, and passed her
fingers through it, caressing it in a tender, thoughtful way. Norton
knelt on the grass beside them and looked on, watching and satisfied.
Matilda was happy and passive.
"Have you got money enough, love, for all you want to do?" Mrs. Laval
asked at length.
"_I_ haven't much," said Matilda; "but Norton is going to help."
"Have you got enough, Norton?"
"I guess so, mamma."
Mrs. Laval put her hand in her pocket and drew out a little morocco
pocket-book. She put it in Matilda's hand.
"Norton shall not do it all," she said. "I don't know exactly how much
is in this; you can use what you choose on this fairy palace you and
Norton are building."
"Oh, ma'am!" Matilda began, flushing and delighted. Mrs. Laval stopped
her mouth with a kiss.
"But, ma'am, won't you please take out what you wish I should spend for
Mrs. Eldridge."
"Spend just what you like."
"I might take too much," said Matilda.
"It is all your's. Do just what you like with it. Spend what you like
in Lilac Lane, and the rest for something else."
"Oh, ma'am!"--Matilda began again in utter bewildered delight.
"No, darling, don't say anything about it," Mrs. Laval answered,
finding Matilda's pocket and slipping the pocket-book in. "You shall
talk to me about it another time. I wish you could give me your secret."
"What secret, ma'am?" said Matilda, who for the very delight that
flushed her could hardly speak.
"How to get so much satisfaction out of a little money."
Matilda wished she could give Mrs. Laval anything that would do her a
pleasure, and she began to think, _could_ she let her into this secret?
It seemed a simple secret enough to Matilda; but she had a certain
consciousness that for the great lady it might be more difficult to
understand than it was for her. Was it possible that elegant
pocket-book was in _her_ pocket?
But now came the summons to tea, and they got up off the grass and went
in. So beautiful a table Matilda had never seen, and more thorough
petting no little girl ever had. No one else was there but those three,
so she was quite at home. Such a pleasant home it was, too. The windows
all open, of the large, airy, pretty dining-room; the blue mountains
seen through the windows at one side; from the others, the green of the
trees and the gay colours of flowers; the evening air drew gently
through the room, and flowers and fruit and all sorts of delicacies and
all sorts of elegances on the table made Matilda feel she was in
fairyland.
"When are you coming again?" said Mrs. Laval, taking her in her arms
when she was about going.
"Whenever you will let me, ma'am."
"Could you learn to love me a little bit, some day?"
Matilda did not know how to answer. She looked into the handsome dark
eyes that were watching her, and with the thought of the secret
sympathy between the lady and herself, her own watered.
"I see you will," said Mrs. Laval, kissing her. "Now kiss me."
She sat quite still while Matilda did so; then returned it warmly, and
bade Norton take care of her home.