It was growing dusk when Matilda got home. She tapped at Mrs. Laval's
door before seeking her own.
Mrs. Laval was sitting on a low chair in front of the fire. She had bid
"come in," at the knock, and now received Matilda into her arms; and
making her sit down on her lap, began taking off her things between
kisses.
"You have got home safe and warm," she said, as she pulled off
Matilda's glove and felt of the little fingers.
"O yes! I had a beautiful ride," Matilda answered.
"And a pleasant visit?"
Now the answer to this was not so easy to give. Matilda struggled for
an answer, but truth would not find one. Mortification did. She flung
her arms round Mrs. Laval's neck and hid her face, for she felt the
tears were coming.
"My darling!" said the lady, very much surprised,--"what is the matter?
Was it not pleasant?"
But Matilda would not say that either. She let her action speak for
her. Mrs. Laval kissed and caressed her, and then when the child lifted
up her head, asked in a more business-like tone, "What was it, Matilda?"
"I don't know,"--was all that Matilda could say.
"Were they not glad to see you?"
"I thought they were, at first," said Matilda. "I was very glad to see
them. Afterwards"--
"Yes, what afterwards?"
"Something was the matter. I think--maybe--they felt a little bad
because I have so much more than they have; and I don't deserve it any
more."
"I understand," said Mrs. Laval. "I dare say. Well, dear, we will try
and find some way of making them feel better. Don't you be troubled.
What have you been about all day? I have scarcely seen you. Did you go
to Laddler's this morning?"
"Yes, ma'am. Norton took me there."
"And you got your boots, such as you wanted?"
"I got them--I believe so. They are narrow toes."
"Was that what you wanted?" said Mrs. Laval smiling.
"I could have got broad toed boots for a good deal less, but he said
they were out of fashion; they were last year's style."
"Yes, he knows," said Mrs. Laval. "Of course he knows, for he makes
them."
"Don't other people know?"
"I suppose so," said Mrs. Laval; "but really I never think about it. I
take what he gives me and am sure it is all right. That is the comfort
of going to Laddler."
"But wouldn't you have found it out, if I had got the square toes?"
"I might have found it out," said Mrs. Laval laughing, "but I should
not have known it was wrong. I should have taken it for the last style."
"Then what difference does it make?" said Matilda.
"It makes a good deal of difference to the shoemaker," said Mrs. Laval;
"for as often as he can bring in a new fashion he can make people buy
new shoes. But how was it at Madame Fournissons?"
"It was all right," said Matilda. "She tried everything on, and made
them all fit."
Mrs. Laval wrapped arms a little closer about the tiny figure on her
lap.
"Now do you know," she said, "there is another piece of work you have
got to attend to. Has Norton told you about Christmas?"
"Yes, ma'am; something."
"You know there is a great time of present giving. You must take your
turn, with the rest. How will you manage it?"
"Manage what, ma'am?"
"Manage to get gifts for all these people? Shall I do it for you?"
"Why I cannot do it," said Matilda simply; "because I have nothing to
get them with."
Mrs. Laval laughed and kissed her. "Suppose I supply that deficiency?
You could not very well do it without money, unless you were a witch.
But if I give you the money, darling? Here are twenty dollars; now you
may spend them, or I will spend them for you. Would you like to do it?"
"I would like to do it very much!" said Matilda flushing with
excitement,--"if I can."
"Very well. Norton will shew you where pretty things are to be bought,
of various sorts. You can get everything in New York. I expect I shall
not see you now for three weeks to come; you will be shopping all the
time. You have a great deal to do."
Matilda flushed more and more, clasped the notes in her hand, and
looked delighted.
"Well, I suppose I must let you go," said Mrs. Laval, "for I must get
ready for dinner, and you must. But first,--Matilda, when are you going
to call me mamma? This is not to make you forget the mother you had,
maybe a better one than I am; but I am your mother now. I want you to
call me so."
Matilda threw her arms round Mrs. Laval's neck again. "Yes--I will,"
she whispered. There were new kisses interchanged between them, full of
much meaning; and then Matilda went up to her room.
At the top of the stairs, in each story, there was a large open space,
a sort of lobby, carpeted and warm and bright, into which the rooms
opened. Matilda paused when she got to her own, and stood by the rails
thinking. The twenty dollars had not at all taken away her regret on
the subject of Letitia's dress; rather the abundance which came pouring
in upon her pricked her conscience the more with the contrast between
her own case and that of her sister, which a little self-denial on her
part would have rendered less painful. Mrs. Laval had unwittingly
helped the feeling too by her slight treatment of the matter of the
boots; it appeared that she would never have known or cared, if Matilda
had got the objectionable square toes. Judy would; but then, was Judy's
laugh to be set against Letitia's joy in a new dress? a thing really
needed? Matilda could not feel satisfied with her action. When she
bought those boots, she had not done it according to her motto; that
was the conclusion.
She came to that conclusion before she opened the door of her room; but
then she took up the consideration of how the mischief might be
remedied; and all the while she was dressing and putting away her
walking things, her head in a delightful bustle of thoughts tried
different ways of disposing of her money. She must consult Norton; that
was the end of it.
"Well," said Norton, when she had a chance to do this after dinner,--"I
see what is before us; we have got to go into all the stores in New
York between this and Christmas; so we had best begin to-morrow.
To-morrow we will go-- Do you know what sort of things you want, Pink?"
"Only one or two."
"See now. You must have something for everybody. That is, counting
great and small, six persons in this house. Any beside?"
"O yes; but I know what to do for _them_, Norton; at least I shall
know; it is only these that trouble me."
"What will you offer to grandmamma?"
"I just don't know, Norton! I can't even imagine."
Norton pondered.
"Hollo, Davy!" he cried presently. "You and Judy come over here. I want
to talk to you."
Judith and her brother came over the room to where Norton and Matilda
were. Judith sat down, but David stood waiting.
"The thing is, friends and relatives," Norton began, "how and by what
measures we can jointly and severally succeed in distinguishing
ourselves, in the matter of our Christmas offerings to Mrs. Lloyd. I
want your opinion about it. It is always nearly as much bother as
Christmas is worth. The old lady don't want anything, that I ever
discovered, and if she did, no one of us is rich enough to relieve her.
Now a bright plan has occurred to me. Suppose we club."
"Club what?" said David.
"Forces. That is, put our stock together and give her something
clever--from the whole of us, you know."
David looked at the new member of the quartette, as if to see whether
she would do to work with; Judy whistled softly.
"What shall we give her?" said that young lady. "She has got everything
under the sun already."
"Easier to find one thing than four things, then," said Norton.
"I think it will do," said David. "It is a good idea. And I saw the
article at Candello's yesterday."
"What was it?"
"A liqueur stand. Grandmamma was admiring it. It is very elegant; the
shapes of the flasks and cups are so uncommon, and so pretty."
"David is a judge of that," said Norton by way of comment to Matilda.
"I go in for colour, and he for shapes."
"There is no colour here," said David; "it is all clear glass."
"The cordial will give the colour," said Norton. "Yes, I think that
will do. Hurra! Grandmamma is always on my mind about this time, and it
keeps down my spirits."
"Who'll go and get it?" said Judy.
"We'll all go together," said Norton. "We are _all_ going to get it;
didn't you understand? I want to see for myself, for my part, before
the thing's done. I say! let us each give a glass, and have our names
engraved on them."
"I don't want anybody to drink out of 'Judy,'" said the young lady
tossing her head.
"Grandmamma will think she is kissing you," said Norton. "She'll wear
out that glass, that's the worst of it."
"Then somebody else will have to drink out of 'David,'" said Judy's
brother. "I don't know about that."
"Well, she'd like it," said Norton.
"But I wouldn't," said Judy. "I have no objection to her kissing me;
but fancy other people!"
"It won't hurt," said Norton. "You'll never feel it through the glass.
But anyhow, we'll all go to Candello's to-morrow and see the thing, and
see what we'll do. Maybe she'll give us cordial in our own cups. That
would be jolly!--if it was noyau."
"You are getting jolly already," said Judith. "Does Matilda ever get
jolly?"
"You'll find out," said Norton; "in course of time, if you keep your
eyes open. But I don't believe you know a brick when you see it, Judy."
"A brick!" said that young lady.
"Yes. There are a great many sorts, David can tell you. Bricks are a
very old institution. I was studying about Chaldaean bricks lately.
They were a foot square and two or three inches thick; and if they were
not well baked they would not stand much, you know."
"What nonsense you are talking!" said Judith scornfully.
"Some of those bricks were not nonsense, for they have lasted four
thousand years. That's what I call--a brick!"
"You wouldn't know it if you saw it though," David remarked.
"You shut up!" said Norton. "Some of your ancestors made them for
Nebuchadnezzar."
"Some of my ancestors were over the whole province of Babylon," said
David. "But _that_ was not four thousand years ago."
"When I get back as far as Nebuchadnezzar," said Norton shutting his
eyes, as if in the effort at abstraction, "I have got as far as I can
go. The stars of history beyond that seem to me all at one distance."
"They do not seem so to me," said David. "It was long before
Nebuchadnezzar that Solomon reigned; and the Jews were an old people
then."
"I know!" said Norton. "Nothing can match you but the Celestials. After
all, Noah's three sons all came out of the ark together."
"But the nations of Ham are all gone," said David; "and the nations of
Japhet are all changing."
"This fellow's dreadful on history?" said Norton to Matilda. "I used to
_think_," he went on as the coloured waiter just then came in with
coffee, "I used to _think_ there were some of Ham's children left yet."
"But not a nation," said David.
The one of Ham's children in question came round to them at this
minute, and the talk was interrupted by the business of cream and
sugar. The four children were all round the coffee tray, when Mrs.
Laval's voice was heard calling Matilda. Matilda went across the room
to her.
"Are they giving you coffee, my darling?" said Mrs. Laval, putting her
arm round her.
"I was just going to have some."
"I don't want you to take it. Will it seem very hard to deny yourself?"
"Why no," said Matilda; then with an effort,--"No, mamma; not if you
wish me to let it alone."
"I do. I don't want this delicate colour on your cheek," and she
touched it as she spoke, "to grow thick and muddy; I want the skin to
be as fair and clear as it is now."
"Norton takes coffee," said Mrs. Bartholomew.
"I know. Norton is a boy. It don't matter."
"Judy!" Mrs. Bartholomew called across the room, "Judy! don't _you_
touch coffee."
"It's so hot mamma, I don't touch it. I swallow it without touching. It
goes right down."
"I don't like you to drink it."
"It would be a great deal pleasanter to drink it, than to swallow it in
that way," said Judy, coming across the room with a hop, skip and jump
indescribable. "But coffee is coffee anyhow. Mayn't I take it a little
cooler and a little slower next time?"
"It will make your complexion thick."
"It will make my eyes bright, though," said Judy unblushingly.
"I never heard that," said Mrs. Bartholomew laughing.
"O but I have, though," said Judy. "I have seen your eyes ever so
bright, mamma, when you have been drinking coffee."
"Yours are bright enough without it," said her mother.
"Yes'm," said Judy contentedly, standing her ground.
Matilda wondered a good deal at both mother and daughter, and she was
amused too; Judy was so funnily impudent, and Mrs. Bartholomew so
lazily authoritative. She nestled within Mrs. Laval's arm which
encircled her, and felt safe, in the midst of very strange social
elements. Mrs. Lloyd eyed her.
"How old is that child, Zara?"
"About Judith's age."
"No, she isn't, aunt Zara," said Judy. "She is about seven years and
three months."
"And what are you?" said her aunt.
"Judith is over twelve," said Mrs. Bartholomew. "Surely that child is
not so old?"
"Matilda is the shortest," said Mrs. Laval, looking from one to the
other.
"And much the youngest looking," said Mrs. Lloyd. "How do you like New
York, my dear?"
"She likes it," said Judy,--"if she only could have got a black satin
cloak."
Matilda stared at her in mingled amazement and shame. Mrs. Laval
laughed and hugged Matilda up a little closer.
"A black satin cloak?" she repeated. "Did you wish for a black satin
cloak, my dear?"
"Trimmed with a deep fall of lace," added Judy.
"O Judy," exclaimed Matilda, "you said nothing about lace!"
"You wanted it, though," said Judith.
"I never thought of such a thing, mamma, as lace," said Matilda
appealingly.
"But you did wish for the satin?"
"Judy seemed to think it would be pretty. She wanted me to ask you to
get it."
The shout of laughter which was raised upon this, Matilda did not at
all understand. They all laughed, Judy not the least of them. Matilda
was very much ashamed.
"Oh Judy, Judy!" her aunt said. "Matilda, black satin is what old
ladies wear. She has been fooling you, as she fools everybody. You
mustn't believe Judy Bartholomew in anything she tells you. You would
be a little old woman, in a black satin cloak with deep lace."
"She said nothing about lace," Matilda repeated. "But I shall learn
what is proper, in her company."
And Matilda's little head, despite her confusion, took the airy set
upon her shoulders which was with her the unconscious expression of
disdain or disapprobation. There was another burst of laughter.
"Your shoulders are older than your face, my dear," observed Mrs.
Lloyd. "Judith must take care what she does. I see there is something
in you."
Happily this speech was Greek to Matilda; she had not the least
knowledge of what called it forth. However, she took it as a sign that
Mrs. Lloyd was beginning to like her a little. All the more she was
sorry, as her feet went up the stairs that night, that the way was not
clear about the Christmas gift for the stately old lady.
She had meant to speak of it to the other children, but had no chance.
After Mrs. Laval called her to tell her about the coffee, the quartette
party was broken up; the two boys had left the room and not come back
again. So what would have been better disposed of at once, was of
necessity laid over to the next day. Matilda had scruples about taking
part in a gift that had anything to do with the promotion of drinking.
She knew well enough what liqueur was; she had tasted it on the
occasion of that first memorable visit she and Maria had made to Mrs.
Laval's house; she knew it was very strong, stronger than wine, she
thought; for people only drank it out of little glasses that would not
hold much more than a good thimbleful. She had seen it once or twice
already at Mrs. Lloyd's served after dinner. She had seen David and
Norton and Judy all take it. Now she herself was pledged to do all she
could in the cause of temperance. Her all would not be much here,
something said to her; nobody would mind what she thought or said;
true. Nevertheless, ought she not to do _what she could?_ according to
her old motto. And following her new motto, to "do all in the name of
the Lord Jesus," could she rightly join, even silently, in a plan to
make a present of drinking flasks and glasses? But if she refused, what
a fuss it would make!
Matilda went slowly up the stairs thinking of it; and arrived in her
room, she turned on the gas and opened her Bible and sat down to study
the question. She found she could not read, any more than those few
strong words; they seemed to cover the whole ground; "Whatsoever ye do,
in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus." Could she, as
his little servant, help the other children in giving such a gift? And
she was pledged, as a member of the Commission no less than as a
servant of Christ, to do all she could for the cause of temperance.
Would it not be _something_ for the cause of temperance, if she
declared off from having anything to do with the liqueur stand? She had
felt she must try somehow to speak to David and Norton about their own
drinking wine; this was a good chance, and if she let this chance go--I
can never do it another time, she thought to herself. But oh, the
difficulty and the pain of it! They thought her a baby, and a little
country girl, who knew nothing; they would laugh at her so, and perhaps
be angry too. How could she do it! And once or twice Matilda put her
head down on her book in the struggle, wishing with all her heart it
were not so hard to be a Christian.
But all her thoughts and her prayers only made her more and more sure
which way lay the course of duty; and along with that grew a heavy
looking forward to the next day and the trial it would bring. How to
manage the matter best was a question. To speak privately to Norton
alone would be far the easiest; but then, that might not secure the
effect of her protest against wine and cordials and all such things, as
she wished to make it; Norton would perhaps cover it up, for the sake
of shielding her and himself from the reproaches of the others; and so
the work would not be done. She could not decide. She was obliged to go
to bed and leave it to circumstances to open the way for her. She half
made up her mind that the "opportunities" of her new position were as
likely to be opportunities for self denial as for anything else. This
was not what she had expected.
Saturday morning rose still and fair. The wind had gone down; the
severe cold had abated; the weather was beautifully prosperous for the
children's expedition. Now if Matilda could get a chance to speak
before they set out--It would be awkward to have to speak in the store,
maybe before a shopman, and when they were all on the very point of
finishing what they came to do. Matilda was ready to wish the day had
been stormy; and yet she wanted to go to Tiffany's, where Norton had
said he would take her; and to Candello's too, for the matter of that
There was another question Matilda had to settle with herself, only she
could not attend to so many things at once. Her twenty dollars for
Christmas purchases; how was all _that_ to be spent "in the name of the
Lord Jesus"? She could not think of it just now, except by snatches;
she kept remembering it, and trying to reckon how many people she had
to buy things for. New York certainly was a very puzzling place to live
in.
The other children seemed to be as full of business as she, and much
less quiet about it. So Matilda did not find a chance to speak to
Norton in private, which in her trouble she would have done if she
could. It was all bustle and discussion till they went to get ready for
their walk. Matilda laced on her new boots, Judy won't have any
occasion to look scornfully at those, she said to herself. They are as
nice as they can be.
A little to her surprise, when she got downstairs she found Miss Judy
dressed in a black silk pelisse. What was the difference between silk
and satin, Matilda wondered? Judy caught her glance perhaps, for with a
twinkle of her own sharp black eyes she burst out into a peal of
laughter.
"What is the matter now?" her brother asked.
"Things become people so differently," said Judith saucily. "Something
you couldn't understand, Davy; men don't, nor boys neither. Matilda and
I understand."
"Matilda don't understand much that you do," said Norton.
"An' that's thrue for ye!" said Judy with a strong Irish accent.
"Faith, the craythur, she's just innicent!"
"Hush, Judy," said her brother laughing; and "You're a case, Judy,"
said Norton; and so they went out at the front door. Matilda's
opportunity was gone; she had thought to speak out to them all while
they were in the hall; and now she was a little too vexed to speak, for
a while. However, it was a gay walk down the avenue and then down
Broadway. The day was very fine and all the world seemed to be out and
astir. Norton was talking very busily too, and the excitement of
business soon chased away the momentary excitement of displeasure. In
the midst of all this, every few blocks they came to street sweepers. A
little girl or a little boy, grey and ragged, keeping a clean crossing
and holding out eager little hands for the pennies they did not get.
David and Norton and Judith did not so much as look at the children,
passing the outstretched hands as if unseen; and Matilda had no
pennies; nothing but her twenty dollar bill. Every few blocks there was
one of these poor, grey dusty figures and one of those little empty
hands. Matilda might have forgotten one or two, if that had been all;
it was impossible to forget this company. How came their life to be so
different from her life? What a hard way to spend one's days! always at
a street corner. And where did they hide themselves at night? And did
any of those poor little ones ever know what Christmas meant? And most
of all, what could or ought she to do for them, she who had so much?
What could be squeezed out of those twenty dollars to refresh the
corners of the streets? anything?
Thinking about this, and replying to Norton, and finding her way among
the crowds of people, they had come to Candello's before Matilda had
found a time to speak anything of what was chiefly on her mind.
It was a long bright store, elegant with its profusion of beautiful
things in glass and porcelain and bronze. Every foot of the counters
and of the floor, along the sides of the room, seemed to Matilda to be
filled with things to be looked at. Such beautiful basins and ewers,
just for washing! Such charming vases and flower glasses! Such handsome
clocks and statuettes and lamps! Then there were painted cups, and
flowered goblets and tumblers, and flasks wonderfully cut, and bowls,
large and beautiful, but clearly not for toilet use, that excited
Matilda's wonderment. She was lost in delight as well as wonder.
"Here," said David, and the word struck like a blow upon her nerves of
hearing,--"here is the article. Isn't that unexceptionable now?"
With the others, Matilda turned to see what he was pointing at. A glass
liqueur stand, with a crystal flask and tiny cups to match; as pretty
and elegant as it could be; even rare in its delicate richness among so
many delicate and rich things. The others were eager in their praise.
Matilda was silent.
"Don't you like it, Pink?" said Norton.
"It is as pretty as it can possibly be," Matilda answered. "But
Norton"--
"Then we might as well get it," said Norton. "We're all agreed. There's
no use in looking further when you are suited."
"So I think," said David. "I never do."
"That is as good as Mrs. Lloyd could do for herself," said Judith.
"But Norton"--said Matilda.
"Shall we have our names put on the cups?" said Norton.
"But Norton," said Matilda desperately, "we are not all agreed. I am
very sorry!--I like it very much--it's beautiful"--
"You are afraid you haven't money enough?" said Norton. "Never fear!
Davy and I will pay the largest half; you and Judy shall give less, but
it don't make any difference. I'll tell you! David and I will get the
stand and the flask; and you two shall give the cups."
"It isn't that," said Matilda, very much distressed; "it is not that,
Norton; it is something else. It is"--
"What in the world is it?" said Judy, balancing herself daintily on one
toe.
"It is--that I don't drink wine, you know."
"What's that to do?" said Judy, while the two boys both looked at
Matilda. "_You_ haven't to drink or let it alone; it is not for your
use anyhow."
"No, I know that; but I don't think it is right--I mean,--I mean," said
Matilda, gathering courage, "I have promised to do all I can to prevent
people from drinking wine. I can't help in such a present as this."
"They don't drink wine out of these little cups," said David. "It is
something different; it is Noyau, or Curacoa, or Chartreuse, or
Maraschino, or some of those things, you know."
"Yes, but it is stronger," said Matilda in a low voice. "It's stronger
than wine."
"She's temperance!" exclaimed Judith, turning round on one heel and
coming back into position. "She's temperance! We are all wicked at Mrs.
Lloyd's; we drink Hock and we sip Curacoa. I suppose she has only been
where people drink gin and lager; and she thinks it's all alike."
"She has been at Briery Bank, Judy," said Norton, "where the wines are
as good as in Blessington Avenue."
"Then she ought to have learned better!" said Judy. "That's all I have
to say."
"But Pink," said Norton, and he was very kind, though he looked
vexed,--"this is not anything about _your_ drinking or not drinking,
you know. Grandmamma will have her wine and she will offer her cordial,
just the same; it don't make any difference; only we want to give her
something she will like, and she will like this; don't you see?"
"Yes, Norton, I see," said Matilda, her eyes filling with tears; "I am
_very_ sorry; but I wish you and David wouldn't have anything to do
with wine, either."
"She don't mention _me!_" exclaimed Judy. "Either I'm so good I'm safe;
or I'm so bad it's no use trying to take care of me. You poor boys, she
will try to take care of _you_. What impertinence!"
"No more than if you did it, Judy, come, now!" said Norton. "It's no
such thing; it's only nonsense. Now Pink, _don't_ be nonsensical!"
"We can do it without her being in the affair, if she doesn't like it,"
said David. "But I do not understand," he went on, addressing himself
to Matilda. "Giving a present isn't drinking wine, is it?"
"No," said Matilda, who by this time could hardly speak at all. "But
Mr. David, it is helping somebody else to drink."
"Do you think what you do would help or hinder?"
"What _you_ do might."
"We shall go on just the same, whatever way you take. What difference
can it make, whether your money is in it or not?"
"I don't know," said Matilda struggling;--"none, perhaps, whether my
money is in it. But my _name_ would be in it."
"Do you think that would make any difference?--stop, Norton, I want to
understand what she will say. What would your name do, in it or out of
it?"
"Ridiculous! to spend time talking to her!" said Judy. "That is just
what she wants."
But David waited for his answer; and Matilda's eyes were all
glittering, while her little head took its inexpressible air of
self-assertion.
"I don't know--I can't, tell," she said, answering David as if she had
not heard Judy;--"it might do nothing, but I have promised to use it on
the right side."
"Promised whom?" said David. "Maybe it is a promise that need not
stand. Promised whom?"
"Yes, whom did you promise, Pink?" said Norton.
Matilda hesitated and then spoke.
"I promised the Lord Jesus Christ," she said slowly.
She was looking at nobody in particular, yet her eye caught the
expression of annoyance on Norton's face; she did not see the cloud of
disgust and surprise that came over David's. He turned away. Judith's
eyes snapped.
"Isn't that neat now?" she said. "We have got a saint among us, sure
enough. Well--saints know how to take care of their money; we all know
that. What are we poor sinners going to do for grandmamma's present?
that's the question. I propose that we get her a prayerbook, very
large, and black, with gilt clasps and her name on the cover; then
everybody will know that Mrs. Lloyd is a good woman and goes to church."
"Be still, Judy!" said her brother sternly.
"Propose something yourself then," said Judith. "We can't do anything
at Candello's, that's clear. I don't believe there's an innocent thing
here beside tea cups. I've seen people drink brandy and water in
tumblers; and bowls hold whiskey punch. Dear me! what a pity it is that
good things are so bad!"
"Hush, Judy!" said Norton; "_you_ won't hurt anybody by being too good."
"It's a way I despise," said Judith coolly. "When I hurt anybody, I
like to know it. I never shut my eyes and fire."
"It's a wonder you don't take better aim, then," said Norton
impatiently. "You are firing wild just now. Matilda has a right to
think as she likes, and _she_ don't shut her eyes and fire. There's
nothing of a coward about her. But then we don't think as she thinks,
about some things; and I say we'll get this liqueur stand and she shall
find something else for her part."
"I'll tell all about it, though, at home," said Judy.
"I dare say Matilda would as lieve you did," said Norton. "Come,
David--will you finish this business? You and I and Judy will go thirds
in it. I've got some other matters to attend to with Matilda, and time
is running away; and Monday school begins. Come, Pink--we have got to
go to Tiffany's."
"What o'clock is it, Norton?" Matilda asked as soon as they were
outside of the shop.
"Near twelve, Pink. I declare! time does run."
"Norton, couldn't we go home first, and go to Tiffany's after luncheon?
there'll be a long afternoon, you know."
"Every place is so crowded in the afternoon," said Norton. "But you
want to go home, Pink? Well, you shall. We shouldn't have much time
before luncheon, that's a fact."
So they got into a street car that was passing.
"Whatever made you say that, Pink?" Norton burst out when they were
seated. "David and Judy are set against you now."
"I think they were before, Norton."
"No, they weren't; or if they were, I don't care; they had nothing to
say. Now you have given them a handle."
"I didn't say anything very bad," said Matilda with her voice trembling
a little.
"No, but they'll take it so. What is it to us, what grandmamma, or any
one else, does with a thing after we have given it? _That_ is none of
our affair. We only make the present."
"It would be very strange, though, to give anybody something you were
not willing he should use," said Matilda.
"Of course. I am willing. I don't care what anybody does with a thing,
after I have done with it."
"I care," said Matilda softly.
"Why? Now Pink, you don't. What do you care whether grandmamma drinks
curacoa or not after dinner?"
Matilda hesitated.
"I wish she wouldn't," she said then again softly. "Then you and David
and Judy wouldn't."
"Why shouldn't we?" said Norton rather shortly.
"Because, people get too fond of such things. And it ruins them."
"It hasn't ruined me yet," said Norton.
But that was about as far as Matilda could go, and she burst into
tears. She kept them back bravely, while they were in the car, but she
could not find voice to reply to any of Norton's kind words, which were
meant to be very soothing; and as soon as they got home she went
straight to her room. Norton went to his mother.
"We have had a splendid confounded time! mamma," he burst out.
"Splendid and confounded?" his mother repeated.
"No, ma'am. Splendidly confounded, I should have said. We went to get
grandmamma's present. And Pink, she has contrived to make David and
Judy as mad with her as they can be; and that's saying a good deal,
when you are talking English. Now how it's to be undone, I don't know.
I suppose Pink is crying her eyes out about it. She had no heart to go
to Tiffany's or anything. We are going after dinner, though."
"But what is the matter? what has she done, Norton?"
"Came out with temperance and _religion_, and all that sort of thing,
to David and Judy; fancy it, mamma! and more than that, with the very
part of religion that they like least of all. Wouldn't help us buy a
liqueur stand for grandmamma, because she doesn't think it is right to
use cordials."
"What a child!" exclaimed Mrs. Laval.
"She's got pluck," said Norton, picking up a pin from the floor and
energetically giving it a cast into the fire; "she's a brick, she is! I
knew that the first day I saw her; but mamma, she is very soft in that
spot."
Mrs. Laval looked sober. Perhaps she remembered that the late Mr. Laval
had also been soft in that spot, though in an entirely different way.
Perhaps she recollected how many variously shaped glasses were needed
around his dinner plate, and how he carried about a strong breath and a
red face for hours afterward, and how she had been sometimes ever so
little ashamed of him. She was now silent.
"Mamma, can't you talk to her?" Norton began again.
"About what?" said Mrs. Laval starting.
"This, ma'am; and make her a little more like other people."
"I would just as lieve she wouldn't drink wine, Norton; or you either."
"Or grandmamma either, mamma?"
"You have nothing to do with that. Your grandmamma is an old lady. I am
not talking of grandmamma, but of you."
"Well do you want Matilda to preach temperance, ma'am?"
"You let Matilda alone. She will not go far wrong. She is _never_
forward. Was she to-day?"
"No," said Norton laughing a little; "it was like a small canary bird
chirping out a lecture."
"You let her alone," Mrs. Laval repeated; "and don't let the others
plague her. And go get yourself ready to go to the table, my boy; the
time for luncheon is very near."
"I can't help Judy's plaguing her," said Norton as he turned to go.
"David won't do anything. But won't he hate her, from now!"