House In Town — Chapter VIII

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.