Part 31 (1/2)
”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 gla.s.ses 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.”