Part 41 (1/2)

”You gave me the money for it, ma'am,” said Matilda.

”It was yours after I had given it,” said the lady. ”I wonder how much good _really_ now, all that will amount to? or whether it is just a flash in the pan? That is the question that always comes to me.”

Matilda looked up from the chess men, wondering what she could mean.

”It is a real good to have the house cleaned; you would never doubt that, mamma, if you had seen it,” Norton remarked.

”And it is a real good that the poor woman is ready to have Mr.

Richmond come to see her now,” said Matilda.

”Mr. Richmond,” repeated Mrs. Laval. ”That's your minister. You think a great deal of Mr. Richmond, don't you, Matilda?”

”Everybody does,” said Matilda. Mrs. Laval smiled.

”I don't know him, you know. But about your doings in the lane--there is no end to that sort of work. You might keep on for ever, and be no nearer the end. That is what always discourages me. There are always new old women to comfort, and fresh poor people to help. There is no end.”

”But then,” said Matilda. She began timidly, and stopped.

”What then?” said Mrs. Laval, smiling.

”Yes, just hear Pink, mamma,” said Norton.

”What then, Matilda?” said Mrs. Laval, still looking at her as at something pleasant to the eyes.

”I was going to say,” Matilda began again, with a blush, ”isn't it meant that we _should_ 'keep on for ever'?”

”Doing good to the poor? But then one would soon have nothing to do good with. One must stop somewhere.”

Clearly, one must stop somewhere. A line must be found; inside or outside of her bed of hyacinths, Matilda wondered? She did not press her doubts, though she did not forget them; and the talk pa.s.sed on to other things. Nothing could be more delightful than that evening, she thought.

The next day there was charming work to be done. Norton was to take her by the early train the morning after to go to Poughkeepsie; and Matilda was to prepare to-day a basket of fruit, and get ready some little presents to take to her sister. The day was swallowed up in these delights; and the next day, the day of the journey, was one long dream of pleasure. The ride to the station, the hour in the cars, or less than an hour; but the variety of new sights and sensations made it seem long; the view of a new place; the joyful visit to Maria, and the uncommonly jolly dinner the three had together at a good restaurant, made a time of unequalled delight. Only Maria looked gloomy, Matilda thought; even a little discomposed at so much pleasure coming to her little sister and missing _her_. And in this feeling, Matilda feared, Maria lost half the good of the play-day that had come to her. However, nothing could spoil it for the other two; and Matilda came home in the cars towards nightfall again with a heart full of content. Only a pang darted through her, as they were driving home under the stars, at the thought how many days of her fortnight were already gone. Matilda did not know it was to be a month.

They found Mrs. Laval in perplexity.

”I wish, Norton,” she said, ”that you would go and bring the doctor here immediately. The two women are ailing now, and the men are quite ill. I don't know what to do. York is gone to town, you know, to look after the interest on his bonds; and Francis demanded permission this afternoon to go and see his father who is dying. I have no one to send for anything. I could not keep Francis, and I do not believe he would have been kept.”

”Who's to look after the horses, mamma?”

”I don't know. You must find some one, for a day or so. You must do that too, to-night.”

Norton went and came back, and the evening pa.s.sed as gayly as ever; York's absence being made up by the services of the children, which, Mrs. Laval said, were much better. Matilda made toast at the fire, and poured out tea; and Norton managed the tea-kettle and b.u.t.tered the toast, and fetched and carried generally; and they had a merry time.

But the next morning showed a change in the social atmosphere.

Matilda came down-stairs, as she always did, the earliest of the family. In the hall she encountered the housemaid, not broom in hand as usual, but with her bonnet and shawl on.

”I'm going out this way, Miss, ye see, becaase it's shorter,” she said with a certain smothered mystery of tone.

”What is shorter? and where are you going, Jane?” Matilda asked, struck by something in the girl's air.

”Och, it's no lady wouldn't expict one to stop, whin it's _that's_ the matter.”