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  CHAPTER VI.

  The arrangements were all made; the room was ready; the cupboard wasstocked with its hardware; even a carpet lay on the floor, for Mrs.Lloyd having heard from David a laughing declaration of Matilda'spresent longing for an old carpet, had immediately given permission tothe children to rummage in the lumber room and take anything they foundthat was not too good. Matilda was very much afraid there would benothing that did not come under that description; however, a little oldpiece of carpet was found that somehow had escaped being thrown away,and that would be, she judged, a perfect treasure to Mrs. Staples; itwas sent by the hands of a very much astonished footman to Mrs. Leary'shouse, and by Mrs. Leary herself put down on the floor; Matilda havingbargained for the cleaning of the floor as a preliminary.

  Her imagination dwelt upon that carpet, and the furnished, comfortablelook it gave the room, with as much recurring delight as other peopleoften find in the thought of their new dresses and jewels. With more,perhaps. Everything was ready now. Mr. Wharncliffe was engaged to tellthe good news to Sarah and her mother, and the moving was to take placeon Thursday of the next week. All was arranged; and on Monday Matildasickened.

  What could be the matter? Nobody knew at first; only it was certainthat the little girl was ill. Dull and feverish and miserable, unableto hold herself up, or to think much about anything when she was laidin bed. It was needful to send for the doctor; and Mrs. Laval took herstation by Matilda's pillow.

  How time went, for some days thereafter, Matilda but dimly knew. Shewas conscious now and then of being very sick, heavy and oppressed andhot; but much of the time was spent in a sort of stupor. Occasionallyshe would wake up to see that Mrs. Laval was bending tenderly over her,offering a spoonful of medicine or a glass of apple water; it wassometimes night, with the gas burning low, sometimes the dusk ofevening; sometimes the cool grey of the morning seemed to be breaking.But of the hours between such points Matilda knew nothing; she kept nocount of days; a general feeling of long weariness and dull headachesfilled up all her consciousness; she reasoned about nothing.

  So that it was quite a new experience, at waking one morning, to feelMrs. Laval's lips pressed to hers for a kiss, and to hear a cheerfulvoice say,--

  "My darling is better!"

  Matilda looked up.

  "I believe I have been sick," she said, in a weak little voice.

  "Indeed you have, darling--very sick. But you are better now. How doyou feel?"

  "Better," Matilda answered in that same faint, _thin_ littlevoice;--"weak."

  "Of course you are weak! Here is something to make you stronger."

  Mrs. Laval brought a tea-cup presently, and fed Matilda with sodabiscuit dipped in tea; very nice it seemed; and then she went off againinto a sweet deep sleep.

  When she awaked from this, it was high day, and the light was let intothe room as it had not been for a good while. It all looked natural,and yet new; and Matilda's eyes went from one object to another with asort of recognizing pleasure; feeling languid too, as if her eyelidscould just keep open and that was all. But the light seemed sweet. Andher gaze lingered long on the figure of Mrs. Laval, who was standing bythe mantle-piece; going over with quiet pleasure every graceful outlineand pretty detail; the flow of her soft drapery; the set of the daintylittle French muslin cap which set lightly on her hair. Till Mrs. Lavalturned, and smiled to see her eyes open.

  "Ready for breakfast?" she said gayly.

  "I don't believe I could get up, mamma," said the weak little voice.

  "Get up! I don't believe you could! But what do you think of havingbreakfast in bed? Wait; you shall have your face washed first."

  She brought a basin and bathed Matilda's face and hands, first withwater and then with cologne. It was pleasant to be tended so, and thefine, soft, sweet damask was pleasant, with which the drying was done.Then Mrs. Laval rang the bell, and presently came up a tray which shetook from the servant's hands and brought to the bedside herself. ThenMatilda was raised up and propped up with pillows, till she could seewhat was on the plate.

  "How nice that cologne is! I haven't had breakfast in a good whilebefore, have I?"

  "No, my darling." And Mrs. Laval stooped to press her lips fondly."What do you say to a little bit of roast bird?"

  Matilda was very glad of it; and she enjoyed the delicate thin slice oftoast, and the fragrant tea out of a sort of eggshell cup; the chinawas so thin it was semi-transparent. She made a bird's breakfast, butit was very good, and did her good.

  "Mamma," she said, as she drank the last drops from that delicatecup,--"it must be a dreadful thing to be poor! When one is sick, Imean."

  "_You_ never will be, darling," said Mrs. Laval.

  She was slowly but surely mending all that day. The next morning shehad another roast bird for breakfast, and could eat more of it.

  "Norton wants to see you dreadfully," Mrs. Laval said as she wasfeeding her. "And so does David, I believe. How have you and David gotto be such good friends?"

  "I don't know, mamma. I like David very much."

  "Do you?" said Mrs. Laval laughing; "perhaps that is the reason. Likemakes like, they say. You are one of the few people that like DavidBartholomew!"

  "Am I? Why, mamma? Don't you like him?"

  "Certainly; he is my nephew. I ought to like him."

  "But that don't make us like people," said Matilda meditatively.

  "What? that little word ought? No, I think it works the other way."

  "But I think I like everybody," Matilda went on. "Everybody _some_. Idon't like all people one as much as another."

  "No," said Mrs. Laval. "That would be too indiscriminate. Well, Davidlikes you. _That_ is not strange. And he wants to see you."

  "Yes, and Norton. Mamma, I think I would like better to be up, before Isee the boys."

  "I shall not let them come in before that."

  So one or two days still passed, in sleeping and resting and waking tofeel stronger every time; and then one afternoon Matilda was taken upand dressed in a warm wrapper, and placed in a delightful easy chairwhich Mrs. Laval had had brought up for her. She felt very weak, butexceedingly comfortable. Then she saw the door of her room slowlypushed inwards, and the bright head of Norton softly advancing beyondit. So soon as he caught sight of Matilda in her easy chair, he came inwith two bounds, knelt down before her, and taking her in his armskissed her over and over.

  "There is one person glad to see you," remarked Mrs. Laval.

  Matilda's eyes were glittering with tears; she said not a word.

  "Glad?" echoed Norton. "Pink, the house has been too stupid foranything without you. It's astonishing, what a difference one girlmakes."

  "_One_ girl--" said Mrs Laval.

  "Ah!" said Norton. "I didn't say anything about the other. It wouldn'tdistress me at all to have Judy shut up in her room a few days."

  "But not by sickness!" said his mother.

  "Not particular how, mamma; do Judy no harm either. She wants takingdown somehow."

  "Why, Norton," said Matilda, "I thought you were so busy with yourgreenhouse, you wouldn't miss me much. And Judy and you were getting onnicely with the flowers, I thought."

  "Nicely!" repeated Norton. "She doesn't care any more for the flowersthan if they were grown to make door mats of. Greenhouse! why, it's asmuch as I can do to prevent her pulling all the buds off; and whenshe's got them, as I said, she don't care the least for them. No; theone thing Judy Bartholomew cares for is mischief; and the second is herown way."

  "Gently, Norton!" said his mother. "I know somebody else that likes hisown way."

  "Yes, ma'am, and can't get it--worse luck!"

  "O Norton!" said Matilda.

  "Well I'd just like to have you tell me then, how I'm to get JudyBartholomew out of my greenhouse!"

  "How did you get her in?" asked his mother.

  "I went into partnership with her."

  "And I ask, why?"

  "Because she had money, mamma; and I wanted the greenh
ouse in order;and Pink wouldn't."

  "Couldn't"--said Matilda. She did not feel like using many words justthen.

  "Pink, mamma, is the very worst person in the world about having herown way."

  "And the very best person in the world about being sick."

  "How, mamma?" said Matilda. "I haven't done anything at all but liestill and be taken care of."

  "Mamma, she looks pale; and her voice sounds thin; aren't you going togive her something to strengthen her up?"

  "She is going to have her supper in a few minutes."

  "What are you going to give her?"

  "Roast oysters and bread and butter."

  "That sounds jolly. I'd stay and have some too; only I have got to seea fellow round the corner. Good-bye, Pink. I'm off. Eat as many oystersas you can!"

  And off he ran. Matilda was disappointed; she was very fond of him, andshe thought he might have liked better to stay with her this firstevening. A little creeping feeling of homesickness came over her; notfor any place that was once called home, but for the clinging affectionof more hands and voices than one.

  "He's a boy, dear," said Mrs. Laval, noticing her look. "Boys cannotbear to be shut up, even with what they love the best. And you are agirl--just full of womanly tenderness. I see it well enough. You willhave something to bear in this world, my child. Boys will be boys, andmen will be men; but Norton loves you dearly, for all that."

  "I know he does, mamma," said Matilda.

  But when a few minutes later, Mrs. Laval was called downstairs to seesomebody, the feeling she had kept back rushed upon her again. Shewanted something she had not got. And she began to think of her bestFriend. Matilda had not forgotten him; yet through these days ofsickness and weakness, and the constant presence of somebody in herroom, she had missed for a long time her Bible readings and all butvery short and scattering prayer. She recollected this now; and longingafter the comfort of a nearer thought of God and closer feeling of hispresence, she got up out of her chair and tottered across the room,holding by everything in her way, to the place where she kept herBible. Once back in her easy chair, she had to rest a bit before shecould read; then she found a place of sweet words that she knew, andrested herself in a more thorough fashion over them.

  She was bending down with her volume in her hand to catch the fadinglight from the window, when another visiter came in. It was DavidBartholomew, who having knocked and fancied that he heard the word ofpermission, walked in and was at her side before she knew it. Matildastarted, and then looked very much pleased.

  "You are not strong enough to be studying," David said kindly.

  "O I am not studying."

  "What have you got there that interests you so much, then? to bebending over it like that."

  Now Matilda was afraid to say she was reading the Bible, knowing inwhat abhorrence David held part of her Bible; so she answered with aquick sort of instinct, "It was only a chapter in Isaiah, David."

  "Isaiah!" he repeated; "our Isaiah? Let me see, please."

  He took the book and looked keenly at the page.

  "What interested you so here, Matilda?"

  "I was reading that little twelfth chapter. I was thinking of those'wells of salvation.'"

  She was trembling with the fear of saying something or other todisplease him, afraid to answer at all; but the simplest answer seemedthe best; and she prayed for wisdom and boldness. David was lookinghard at the page, and alternately at her.

  "It is our Isaiah," he said, turning the leaves back and forward; "itis our Scriptures; but not the Hebrew. I shall learn to read theHebrew. What were you thinking about the 'wells of salvation,' Matilda?"

  Matilda was getting very nervous; but as before, she answered simplythe truth.

  "I was thinking how sweet the water is."

  "You?" said David, with a depth of astonishment which might have madeher laugh if she had not been so frightened. "You? what do you know ofthem, or think you know? These words belong to the time of Messiah benDavid."

  "Yes," said Matilda.

  "What do you think you know about them?"

  Matilda thought within herself that here was the end of David'sfriendship for her. Her heart sank, yet she spoke as before.

  "I have drawn water out of them, David; and I know that the water issweet."

  He stood and looked at her, as if he were full of something to say; butperhaps he guessed at her reference, or perhaps he saw her too feebleto be attacked with exciting topics. He shut his mouth and saidnothing; and just then the servant entered bearing the tray withMatilda's supper. That made a nice diversion. I think David was glad ofit. At any rate he made himself useful; brought up the little table toMatilda's side; set the tea-pot out of her way and spread her napkin onher lap. Then, hearing that Mrs. Laval was detained downstairs, he tookthe management of things upon himself. He made Matilda's cup of tea; hespread bread and butter; he opened oysters. Nobody could have done itbetter; but it was always acknowledged that David Bartholomew was borna gentleman. Matilda enjoyed it hugely. She was ready for her oysters,as a little convalescent child should be; and bread and butter wasgood; but to have David helping her and ministering to her gave to bothan exquisite flavour. He was so nice about it, and it was so kind ofhim.

  "That other supper has been sadly put off, hasn't it?" he said as heopened Matilda's last oyster.

  "What supper?" said Matilda.

  "The supper we had arranged so finely, a long while ago. Thecelebration of your good woman's moving in."

  "My good woman?--O, you mean Mrs. Staples. She hasn't moved in yet?"

  "No! we waited for you to get well."

  "Waited all this while!" said Matilda. "David, I wonder when I shall beable to go out?"

  "Not in a good while, Tilly, to any such entertainment as that. I daresay you can go driving in the Park in two or three weeks."

  "But she cannot wait all that while!" said Matilda; and then shestopped. If not, then the moving of Mrs. Staples, and all the delightof the supper to be prepared for her, and the pleasure of seeing herpleasure, must be for others; not for the little planner and contriverof the whole. For a minute Matilda felt as if she could not give it up;this rare and exquisite joy; such a chance might not come again in avery long while. She wanted to see how the stove would work; she wantedto hear the kettle sing, and to set the table with the new cups andsaucers, and to make the tea that first time, and give the in comers awelcome. _Could_ all that be lost? It seemed very hard. Matilda's eyesfilled with tears.

  "What is the matter?" said David kindly.

  Matilda struggled to speak. She knew what she must say; but at firstshe could hardly get the words out. She hesitated, and David repeatedhis question.

  "It won't do for them to wait so long," she said, lifting her eyes tohis face.

  "Who? your poor people there? Well, it does seem a pity, looking at theplace where they are now."

  "It won't do," Matilda repeated. "It is best for them to go right in,David. But I can't manage it. I can't do anything."

  "Will you trust me?"

  "O yes! if you'll do it. But won't it be a great trouble to you, David?"

  "On the contrary, I shall like it capitally. You tell me exactly whatyou want done, and I'll attend to it."

  "O thank you! Then you'll have to get the supper things, David."

  "Yes, I know all about that."

  "And get Mr. Wharncliffe to tell Mrs. Staples."

  "Yes."

  "And--can you buy some calico for me?"

  "Certainly. But I'd put something warmer on them than calico, Tilly."

  "What?"

  "I don't know," said David laughingly; "I don't know what women wear.But I suppose I can find out. Something _warm_, Tilly; the air issnapping and biting out of doors, I can tell you."

  "O well, do see about it as soon as you can, David, and let them movein by Saturday; can't you?"

  David promised. And when he was gone, and Matilda was alone in bedagain at night, she fought out h
er whole fight with disappointment.Rather a hard fight it was. Matilda did not see why, when she was abouta very good thing, so much of the pleasure of it should have been takenaway from her. Why could not her sickness have been delayed for oneweek? and now the very flower and charm of her scheme must fall intothe hands of others. She dwelt upon the details, from which she hadlooked for so much pleasure, and poured out hearty tears over them. Shewas as much in the dark nearly as Job had been; as much at a loss toknow why all this should have befallen her. All the comfort she couldget at was in imagining the scenes she could not now see, and fancyingall over and over to herself how Sarah and her mother would look andfeel.

  After that day Matilda's improvement was steady. Soon she had Nortonand Judy and even David running in and out at all hours, to see her orto tell her something.

  "Great news," said Norton bursting in as usual one evening. "What doyou think, Pink? David and Judy have been to be catechized."

  "Catechized?" Matilda repeated. "Do they learn the catechism?"

  "Not yours, I promise you," said Norton. "No, not exactly. But theyhave been to a Jewish catechizing; to be examined in the Jews'Scriptures, you know, and all that. They ought to have been catechized,it seems, when they were younger; but David and Judy have beentravelling about and there has been no chance. Now they've got it! AndO how Davy has been studying his Bible."

  "His Bible is just like ours, isn't it?--all but the New Testament?"

  "_He_ thinks that's a pretty large 'all but.'"

  "But the rest is just the same as ours?"

  "I suppose so; yes, I believe so. And they have had a great time, andDavy has come off with a blue ribband or something, and been greatlydistinguished."

  "Well?" said Matilda eagerly.

  "Well. They all went to it, grandma and aunt Judy, and they don't knowwhether they are most pleased or most vexed."

  "Vexed?" repeated Matilda.

  "Yes. You see, their Jew friends and relations are getting great holdof Davy; and now I suppose he will be more of a Jew than ever."

  "How will that make him different?" said Matilda, puzzled.

  "Different?" said Norton. "Why, you don't think Jews are like all therest of the world, do you?"

  "I don't know," Matilda answered. "I think--if I was a Jew--I wouldlike it."

  To which Norton answered at first with a questioning frown; thencleared his brow and laughed.

  "You'd like anything that made you different from the rest of theworld," he said. "But you're a Pink! and that makes it of course."

  "You used to say I was a brick," said Matilda.

  "So you are. I'll fight any boy that says you aren't."

  But that made Matilda laugh so much that Mrs. Laval, coming in, wasafraid she would fatigue herself; and she sent Norton away. Matildaafter this was very curious and a little anxious to see David, and findout what change his being "more of a Jew than ever" would have made inhim. When he came, she could not find any change. It was Saturdayevening, after tea; so rather late. He came to bring her the news shewanted.

  "Well, it's done, Matilda," he said as he entered.

  "And all right, David?"

  "Right as can be. Don't you get excited, and I will tell you all aboutit."

  "You are very kind, David," said Matilda, trying to be quiet; but therewere two pink spots on her pale cheeks.

  "The carpet was down, and made the place look like another thing. ThenMrs. Leary had brightened up the bureau and the chairs and table, andblacked the stove and made a fire. It seemed quite like a home waitingfor somebody. Mrs. Leary folded her arms, and made me take notice whatshe had done, and 'expicted I would consider it,' she said."

  "Expected you would consider it?" said Matilda.

  "Yes. Don't you know what that means? Expected I would pay her for hertrouble."

  "Ah!" said Matilda. "Did you?"

  "Yes, of course. But I made her make up the bed and fill the kettlebefore she had done. 'An' sure it was iligant, and fit for society,'she said; whatever that meant."

  "Fit for company, I suppose, David. But who made the coffee?"

  "Wait a bit: I'm coming to that. I was in a puzzle about it; for Iwasn't sure of Mrs. Leary, and Norton and I didn't know enough."

  "Norton? was Norton there?"

  "To be sure; at first. He and I got everything else together. Mrs.Leary had washed the china and the tin ware; and we bought cheese, andtea and coffee, and herring, and buns, and gingerbread."

  "And bread?" said Matilda, looking in tensely interested.

  "No; buns. And soap we ordered in too, Tilly; Norton is great on soap.I should never have thought of it. And when we had done all we couldthink of, we sat down to watch the fire and guard the things till somebody came. And we got talking about something else and forgot where wewere; when all of a sudden the door pushed softly open and a girl camein--"

  "Sarah!" cried Matilda.

  "Wait. There came in this girl, and stood there, looking. And welooked. 'Is this Mrs. Leary's?' she asked. 'No,' said I; 'the rest ofthe house is. Mrs. Leary's, I believe; but this room belongs to Mrs.Staples.' 'And you're Sarah, aren't you?' Norton cried out. I wish youhad seen the girl, Tilly! She came a little way further in, and stoppedand looked round, and had all the work in the world to keep herselffrom breaking down and crying. Her face flushed all over. She wanted toknow if we were sure if there was no mistake? So I told her about you,and how you were sick, and how you had commissioned us to get ready allthese things; and Norton shewed her where to hang her bonnet and shawl;for she was in a bewildered state. And then I bethought me and told herwe wanted somebody to make the coffee. I think, Tilly, she was as nearthe condition of Aladdin, when he got into the magician s cave, as evera mortal could be in this actual world. But she went to work, and thathelped her to feel she was not dreaming, I suppose. She made thecoffee,--and all the while I could see her fingers trembling;--and shecooked the herring; and I stood it, herring smoke and all; it was thebest fun I've seen this winter--"

  "Since Christmas," Matilda put in, but her own eyes were very brightand glittering.

  "Christmas was nothing to it!"

  "I wish I had been there."

  "I wish you had. There was nothing else wanting. And I wish you couldhave seen Sarah's eyes; I think she was afraid to look around her. Shewould give a glance at something, the chest of drawers, or the bed, andthen the tears would spring and she would have just as much as shecould do to mind her cooking and not break down. I didn't know coffeesmelt so good, Tilly."

  "Doesn't it!"

  "You know about that, eh? Well, we were all ready, and Sarah set thetable, but Norton and I had to bring out the buns and gingerbread andthe cheese; for I don't think she would have dared. And then the dooropened once more, and in came Mr. Wharncliffe, and Sarah's mother andthose two poor little imps of boys."

  "I don't know much about them," said Matilda.

  "I know they are very ragged. Of course, how could they help it? Themother looked as if she would easily fall to pieces too. But I saw thesmell of the coffee brightened her up."

  "And then you came away, I suppose?"

  "Yes, of course. Mr. Wharncliffe just saw that everything was right andlooked after the coal and things; and then we left them to take theirsupper in peace."

  "I'm so glad!" said Matilda, heaving a deep sigh. "And I am very muchobliged to you, David."

  "For nothing," said David. "I had a good time, I can tell you. I shouldjust like to do the whole thing over again. Why, it didn't cost much."

  "Only Mr. Wharncliffe says we have to be very careful to know aboutpeople first, before we give them things; there are so many deceivers."

  "Yes, I know that," said David. He stood looking into the light andthinking. Matilda wondered what he was thinking about; she could notask him as she would Norton.

  "It isn't right!" he broke out.

  "What, David?"

  "It isn't right that there should be such a difference in people; wehere, and they there."
>
  "Mr. Wharncliffe says there must be a difference. Some people areclever and industrious, and others are idle and lazy; and that makesdifferences."

  "That ought," said David; "but then the people that are not idle orlazy, but sick or unfortunate, like these people; they ought not to beleft in hunger and cold and rags."

  "So I think," said Matilda eagerly; and then she stopped; for she wasnot so free with David as to tell him all her thoughts; at least notunless he asked for them.

  "It puzzles me," David went on. "I can't see my way out of the puzzle;only I am sure there is wrong somewhere."

  "And it must be right for each of us to do all he can to help," saidMatilda.

  David shook his head. "_One_ goes very little way."

  "But that is all we _can_ do. And if every one would--"

  "Every one will not, Tilly; there it is."

  "No. I know it; but still, David, people have to do so."

  "So how?"

  "Why, each one by himself, I mean."

  "Well," said David, smiling, "that's safe for you. I mean to study thesubject."