It is impossible to tell how pleasant Matilda's room was to her that night. She had a beautiful white candle burning in a painted candlestick, and it shed light on the soft green furniture, and the mat, and the white quilt, and the pictures on the walls, till it all looked more fairylandish than ever; and Matilda could hardly believe her own senses that it was real. And when the candle was covered with its painted extinguisher, and the moonlight streamed in through the muslin curtains, it was lovelier yet. Matilda went to the window and gazed out. The fields and copses lay all crisp and bright in the cool moonbeams; and over beyond lay the blue mountains, in a misty indistinctness that was even more ensnaring than their midday beauty. And no bell of Mrs. Candy's could sound in that fairy chamber to summon Matilda to what she didn't like. She was almost too happy; only there came the thought, how she would ever bear to go away again.

That thought came in the morning too. But pleasure soon swept it away out of sight. She had a charming hour with Mrs. Laval in the greenhouse; after which they went up to Matilda's room; and Mrs. Laval made some little examination into the state of that small wardrobe which had been packed up the day before, and now lay in the drawers of the green dressing-table. Following which, Mrs. Laval carried Matilda off into another room where a young woman sat sewing; and her she directed to take Matilda's measure, and fit her with a dress from a piece of white cambrick which lay on the table.

"It's getting pretty cool, ma'am, for this sort of thing," said the seamstress.

"Yes, but it will be wanted, and it is all I have got in the house just now. I will get something warmer to-day or to-morrow, or whenever I go out. And Belinda, you may make a little sacque to wear with this; there is enough of that red cashmere left for it. That will do."

Two or three days saw the white frock done and the sacque. Mrs. Laval provided Matilda with pretty slippers and a black sash; and furthermore, desired that she would put these things on and wear them at once. Matilda did not know herself, in such new circumstances, but obeyed, and went down-stairs very happy. Norton cast an approving glance at her as she met him.

"Come here," said he, stretching out his hand to her; "mamma's busy with her new people, and we will have another drive presently. Come and sit down till it is time to go."

They went on the verandah, where it was warm and yet shady; the October sun was so genial, and the winds were so still.

"So they have come?" said Matilda.

"Yes, a lot of them. Look as if they had come from the other end of creation. Pink, I think I'll cover all that bank with bulbs."

"What are bulbs?"

"You don't know much, if you are a brick," said Norton. "I mean tulips, and hyacinths, and crocuses, and ranunculuses, and – well, I don't know all, but those specially. Wouldn't it be fine?"

Norton was a great gardener.

"I know tulips," said Matilda. "We have a bunch of red tulips in our garden. I think they are beautiful."

"I do not mean red tulips. Did you never see any but those?"

"No."

"Then you do not know what I mean by tulips. They are everything else except plain red; I shall not have one of those."

"Yellow?"

"Well perhaps I may have two or three yellow ones. They are pretty; – clear lemon colour, you know; the colour of evening primroses."

"Are there blue tulips too?"

"Not that ever I heard," said Norton. "No, there are red, and yellow, and yellow striped with red, and white striped with red, and white blotched with carmine, and yellow edged with brown or purple, and a thousand sorts; but never a blue."

"That's odd, isn't it?" said Matilda. "And nobody ever heard of a blue rose."

"Perhaps they will, though." said Norton. "There are black roses, and green roses. But I don't believe either there can be a blue rose; it is against nature."

"But how many tulips will you have, Norton? you said two or three yellow ones; and there are a thousand sorts."

"Well, I will not have all the sorts," said Norton; "but I tell you what I will do. I will fill all that bank with them and hyacinths, I shall want a hundred or so."

"Do they cost much?"

"Pretty well," said Norton; "if you get the costly sorts. They are a dollar a-piece, some of them. But plenty are nice for fifty cents, and thirty cents."

"Your tulip bed will cost – a great deal, Norton!"

"And that bed over there," Norton went on, pointing, "shall be your bed; and I will fill it with hyacinths for you. You shall choose what colours, Pink. They will be beautiful in May. Those shall be yours."

"Oh, thank you! But do they cost much?"

"You always ask that," said Norton, laughing. "Yes, some of them do. I will tell you what I will do, Pink – and then you will be easy. I will spend twenty-five dollars on my tulip bed, and you shall spend twenty-five dollars on your hyacinth bed; and you shall say now what sorts you will have."

"Twenty-five dollars!" said Matilda. "O Norton, thank you. How nice! And I never saw a hyacinth in my life. What are they like?"

Norton was endeavouring to tell, when Mrs. Laval came upon the verandah. She came with business upon her lips, but stopped and her face changed when she saw Matilda.

"My dear child!" she said.

"Mamma," said Norton, "isn't she a brick?"

"A brick?" said Mrs. Laval, taking Matilda in her arms, and sitting down with her. "A brick! this soft, sweet, fresh delight of mine!" And as she spoke she emphasised her words with kisses. "My darling! There is nothing rough, or harsh, or stiff about you, nor anything angular, nor anything coarse; and he calls you a brick!"

"I think he means something good by it, ma'am," Matilda said, laughing.

"I don't know about the angles," said Norton. "Pink has a stiff corner now and then that I haven't been able to break off yet."

"Break off!" said Mrs. Laval, sitting with her arms round Matilda. And then they all went off into a laugh together.

"I had forgotten what I was going to say," Mrs. Laval resumed. "When you are out, Norton, I wish you would stop and send the doctor here."

"What's the matter?"

"I don't know; but those poor people are in a state under the bank, and maybe the doctor could best tell what they want."

"Ill?" said Norton.

"No, not ill, but dull and spiritless. I don't know what is the matter. They are tired with their journey perhaps, and forlorn in a strange place. Maybe they would feel better if they saw the doctor. I think such people often do."

And then Norton and Matilda had another ride in the basket waggon.

On their return, Norton proposed that they should go down under the bank and see the new-comers. Matilda was ready for anything. Under the bank was the place for Mrs. Laval's farm-house, and dairy house, and barn, and stables; a neat little settlement it looked like. A pretty little herd of cows had come home to be milked, and a woman in a strange costume, never before known at Shadywalk, had come out with a milking pail. To her Norton marched up, and addressed her in French; Matilda could not understand a word of it; but presently Norton went off into the farm-house. Here, in the kitchen, they found the rest of the family. A pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman was busy with supper; a young pretty girl was helping her; and two men, travel-worn and bearing the marks of poverty, sat over the fire holding their heads. Norton entered into conversation here again. It was very amusing to Matilda, the play of face and interchange of lively words between him and these people, while yet she could not understand a word. Even the men lifted up what seemed to be heavy heads to glance at the young master of the place; and the women looked at him and spoke with unbent brows and pleasant and pleased countenances. But the elder woman had a good deal to say; and Norton looked rather thoughtful as he came out.

"What is it all, Norton?" Matilda asked. "Is all right?"

"Well, not exactly," said Norton. "Those two men are ill."

"Hasn't the doctor come yet?"

"Yes, and he says they want a few days of rest; but I say they are ill."

"But the doctor must know?"

"Perhaps," said Norton. "Perhaps he don't."

The people under the bank were forgotten soon, in the warm luxury of the drawing-room and the bright tea-table, and the comfort of sugared peaches. And then Matilda and Norton played chess all the evening, talking to Mrs. Laval at intervals. The tulip bed and the hyacinth bed were proposed, and approved; a trip to Poughkeepsie was arranged, to see Maria; and Norton told of Miss Redwood's doings in Lilac Lane. Mrs. Laval was much amused.

"And you two children have done that!" she said.

"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 passed 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 passed 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 buttered 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."

"When what is the matter? what do you mean? Are you going away?"

"Faith, it's glad I be, to be off; and none too soon. I'd show 'em the back of me head, you, dear, if it was me, goin' out at the front door. The likes o' you isn't obleeged to stop no more nor meself." This advice was given in the same mysterious undertone, and puzzled Matilda exceedingly.

"But, Jane," she said, catching the woman's shawl as she would have left her, "you know York is away; and there is nobody to do things. Mrs. Laval will want you."

"She's welcome to want me," said the girl. "I didn't engage fur to serve in an hospital, and I won't do it. Me life is as good to me, sure, as her own, or anybody's."

"But what shall I tell Mrs. Laval? Aren't you coming back?"

"Niver a bit, till the sickness is gone." And with that the girl would not be kept, but got away.

Matilda stood bewildered. Yes, she saw the broom and duster had been nowhere that morning. Everything was left. It was early yet. The sunbeams came slant and cool upon the white frost outside, as Jane opened the door; and so when the door was shut they stole in upon the undusted hall and rooms. Matilda softly made her way to the kitchen stairs and went down, fearing lest there might be more defaulters in the house hold. To her relief, she found the cook moving about preparing for some distant breakfast. But breakfast was never an early meal.

"Good morning, Mrs. Mattison," said the child. "I came down to see if there was anybody here. I met Jane just now, going out."

"I'm here yet," said Mattison. "I'll get your breakfast, before I'm off."

"Are you going too?"

"Take my advice, and don't you stop," said the woman. "You ain't a fixture so you can't get away. I'd go, fust thing, if I was you."

"Why?" said Matilda; "and what for are you all going like this? It is using Mrs. Laval very badly, I think."

"Folks must take care of their own flesh and blood," said the woman. "Wages don't pay for life, do they? I'm off as soon as I've got the breakfast. I'll do that, and give Mrs. Laval that much chance. She ain't a bad woman."

"Is the laundry-maid going too?"

"O' course. She had her warning, weeks ago, and so had I mine. Mrs. Laval sent for them furriners to fill her house with them; and now she must make the best of 'em she can. It ain't my fault if they're no use to her."

Matilda went up-stairs again, pondering what was to be done. She went softly up to Norton's door and knocked. It was not easy to rouse him; nothing stirred; and Matilda was afraid of awaking his mother, whose door was not far off. At last she opened Norton's door a bit and called to him.

"What is it?" cried Norton, as soon as the noise found a way to his brain. "Is it you, Pink? Hold on, – I'll be there in less than no time! What's to pay?"

Matilda waited, till in another minute Norton presented himself, half dressed, and with his hair all shaggy, outside his door.

"O Norton, can you be dressed very quickly?"

"Yes. What's the matter? I am going down to see to the horses. What do you want, Pink?"

"O Norton – speak softly! – everybody's going away; and I thought, maybe you would come down and help me get things in order."

"What do you mean, Pink?" said Norton, opening his eyes at her.

"Hush! They are all going away."

"Who?"

"The servants. All of them. Jane is off, and the cook will only stay till after breakfast. The laundry woman is going too. Francis is away, you know, and York. There is nobody but you and me in the house – to stay. I don't know what has got into all their heads."

"You and me!" said Norton. "The unconscionable fools! what are they afraid of?"

"Afraid of trouble, I suppose," said Matilda. "Afraid they will have nursing to do. I don't know what else."

"They ought to be put into the penitentiary!"

"Yes; but Norton, can you come down presently and help?"

"Help what?"

"Me. I want to set the table for breakfast, and I don't know where things are, you know. I am going to set the table, if you'll show me."

"I should think you didn't know where things are! Stop – I'll be there directly."

Norton disappeared, but Matilda had no idea of stopping. She went down-stairs softly again, and opened the windows, such of them as she could manage; applied to the powers below-stairs for broom and duster, and went at her old work of putting rooms in order. But it seemed like play now, and here. She was almost glad the servants were going away, to give her the chance.

"Well, you are a brick!" was Norton's remark, when he came in. "I suppose you know what it means by this time?"

"I wish you'd open those two windows for me, Norton; I can't undo the fastenings. Then perhaps you'd be a brick too?"

"I don't know," said Norton, laughing. "Well – there, Pink. What now?"

"Show me, Norton, where the things are."

"All at once, is rather too much," said Norton, as he and Matilda went into York's pantry. "All for nothing, too. Nursing! nonsense! they wouldn't have to nurse those people. It's jealousy."

"Yes, I think they are jealous," said Matilda, "from something the cook said."

Norton stood and looked on admiringly, while Matilda found the tablecloth, and arranged cups and saucers, and plates, and spoons, and mats, and all the belongings of the breakfast-table.

"Have you got to go to the stables, Norton?"

"Yes."

"Well, won't you go and get back, then? The breakfast will be ready, you know."

"Forgot all about that," said Norton.

While he was gone Matilda finished her arrangements; and was watching for him from the verandah when Mrs. Laval came behind her.

Of course it had become necessary to tell her the state of affairs. Mrs. Laval set down in one of the verandah chairs as soon as Matilda began to speak, and drew the child to her arms; wrapping them all round her, she sat thoughtfully caressing her, kissing her brow, and cheeks, and lips, and smoothing her hair, in a sort of fond reverie; so fond, that Matilda did not stir to interrupt her, while she was so thoughtful, that Matilda was sure she was pondering all the while on what was best to do.

"Who set the table?"

"I did, ma'am. Norton showed me where things were."

"Ma'am," repeated Mrs. Laval, drawing the child closer. "Would it be very hard to call me 'mamma' – some time – when you know me better? I can't let you go."

Matilda flushed and trembled; and then Norton came running up the bank. He smiled at the sight of his mother, with Matilda in her arms and her face resting upon Matilda's forehead.

"What's the word down there this morning, Norton?"

"I don't know, mamma; I've only been to see the horses. They are well."

"To the stables, have you been? Then do run and change your dress, Norton."

"Yes, and breakfast's ready, Norton," Matilda called after him. She slid off Mrs. Laval's lap and rang for it, and when it came up on the dumb waiter, she did York's work in setting it on the table with a particular pleasure. She began to have a curious feeling of being at home in the house.

"There is but one thing for me to do," said Mrs. Laval, as they sat at breakfast. "I must go down to the city and get a new houseful of servants, to do till these are well. But I'm in a great puzzle how to leave you two children. There will be nobody here; and I may very possibly be obliged to stay a night in town. It is not at all likely that I can do what I have to do, in time to take an evening train."

"I can take care of Pink, mamma."

"Who will take care of you?"

"I'll try," said Matilda.

"What can you do, to take care of me?" said Norton.

"You will want something to eat," said Matilda. "I think you will – before to-morrow night."

"If I do, I can get it," said Norton.

"He thinks dinner grows, like a cabbage," said Mrs. Laval; "or like a tulip, rather. His head is full of tulips. But I cannot go to-day to New York; I could not catch the train. I'll go down-stairs and see these people after breakfast, and make them stay."

But when Mrs. Laval descended half an hour later to the regions of the kitchen, she found them deserted. Nobody was there. The fire, in a sullen state of half life, seemed to bear witness to the fact; the gridiron stood by the side of the hearth with bits of fish sticking to it; the saucepan which had held the eggs was still half full of water on the hob; the floor was unswept, the tray of eggs stood on one table, a quantity of unwashed dishes on another, but silence everywhere announced that the hands which should have been busy with all these matters were no longer within reach of them. Mrs. Laval went up-stairs again.

"Every creature is gone," she said. "I am sure I do not know what we are to do. Jealousy, Norton, did you say?"

"Because you have sent for these Swiss people, mamma."

"Is it possible? Well – I don't know what we are to do, as I said. We shall have no dinner."

"I can get the dinner," said Matilda. At which there was some laughing; and then Mrs. Laval said she must go and see how the poor people were. Norton was despatched to find some oysters if he could; and Matilda quietly went down-stairs again, with her little head full. She was there still an hour later, when Mrs. Laval came home and called for her. Matilda came running up, with red cheeks.

"Ah, there you are! What are you doing, Matilda? you have got your face all flushed."

"It's just the fire," said Matilda.

"Fire? What are you doing, child?"

"Nothing, much. Only trying to put things a little in order."

"You," said Mrs. Laval. "Leave that, my darling. You cannot. There will be somebody to do it by and by. But I wish I had somebody here now, to make gruel, or porridge, or something, for those poor people. They are without any comforts."

Mrs. Laval looked puzzled.

"Are they better?" Matilda asked.

"Two of them are unwell; indeed they are all ill, more or less; but the men are really bad, I think."

"If I had some meal, I could make gruel," said Matilda. "I know how. I have made it for – I have made it at home, often."

"Could you?" said Mrs. Laval. "There must be some meal here somewhere."

She went down to search for it. But it was found presently that she did not know meal when she saw it; and Matilda's help was needed to decide which barrel held the article.

"I am a useless creature," Mrs. Laval said, as she watched Matilda getting some meal out. "If you can manage that, darling, I will be for ever obliged to you, and so will those poor people. It is really good to know how to do things. Why, what have you done with all the dishes and irons that were standing about here? You have got the place in order, I declare! What have you done with them, dear?"

"They are put away. Shall I put on a pot and boil some potatoes, Mrs. Laval? I can; and there is a great piece of cold beef in the pantry."

"Boil potatoes? no, indeed!" said Mrs. Laval. "Norton will get us some oysters, and some bread and some cake at the baker's. No, dear, do not touch the horrid things; keep your hands away from them. We'll fast for a day or two, and enjoy eating all the better afterwards."

Matilda made her gruel, nicely; and Mrs. Laval carried it herself down to the farmhouse. She came back looking troubled. They could not touch it, she said, after all; not one of them but the young girl; they were really a sick house down there; and she would go to New York and get help to-morrow. So by the early morning train she went.

It was rather a day of amusement to the two children left alone at home. They had a great sense of importance upon them, and some sense of business. Matilda, at least, found a good deal for herself to do, up-stairs and down-stairs; then she and Norton sat down on the verandah in the soft October light, and consulted over all the details of the tulip and hyacinth beds.

"Fifty dollars!" said Matilda, at last.

"Yes?" said Norton. "Well?"

"Nothing. Only – did you ever think, Norton, how many other things one could do with fifty dollars? I wonder if it is right to spend so much just on a flower-bed?"

"It isn't. It's on two flower-beds," said Norton.

"Well, on two. It is the same thing."

"That's a very loose way of talking," said Norton. "Two and one are not at all the same thing. They are three."

"O Norton! but you are twisting things all round, now. I didn't say anything ridiculous."

"I am not so sure of that. Pink, one would never spend money any way, if one stopped because one could spend it some other way."

"But it ought to be always the best way."

"You can't tell what the best way is," said Norton. "I can't think of anything so good to do with this fifty dollars, as to make those two beds of bulbous roots."

Matilda sat thinking, not convinced, but longing very much to see the hyacinths and tulips, when a voice at the glass door behind her made her start. It was the doctor.

"Good morning. Is nobody at home?"

"Nobody but us," said Norton.

"Mrs. Laval gone out, eh?"

"Gone to New York, sir."

"To New York, eh? Ah! Well! Unfortunate!"

"What shall I tell her, sir, when she comes back?"

"Is there anybody in the house that can make beef tea?"

"No, sir," said Norton.

"If you will tell me how, Dr. Bird, I will have some," Matilda said.

"You, eh? Well, you do know something more than most girls. You can remember and follow directions, if I tell you, eh?"

"Yes, sir, I think I can."

"Then I'll tell you. You take a piece of juicy beef – he can see to that – juicy beef; not a poor cut, mind, nor fat; mustn't be any fat; and you cut it into dice; and when you have cut it all up fine, you put it in a bottle, and cork it up. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. But I don't know what dice are."

"Don't, eh? well, little bits as big as the end of my finger, will do as well as dice. Then when you have got your bottle corked, set it in a pot of water, and put the pot on the fire, and let it boil, till the juice of the beef comes out. Then strain that juice. That's beef tea."

"I mustn't put any water in with the beef, sir? – in the bottle?"

"Not a drop. Keep the water all in the pot."

"Who is to have the beef tea, doctor, when it is made?"

"Those two Frenchmen at the farmhouse. I told the women. They ought to have it now. And a nurse, too; the women are ill themselves."

Dr. Bird went his way, and Matilda persuaded Norton to go at once in quest of some juicy beef. It would be a difficult job, he said, for the butchers' shops were shut up; but he would go and try. While he was gone Matilda amused herself with getting a dinner for him and herself down in the kitchen; and there, when he came back, the two went, to eat their dinner and to set the beef tea a-going. They had rather a jolly time of it, to tell the truth; and were so very social, and discussed so many things besides their beef and bread, that the beef tea was ready to strain by the time Matilda had cleared the things away. And then she and Norton went down to the farmhouse to carry it.

They could get nobody to come to the door, so they opened it for themselves. It was a sad house to see. In two rooms all the family were gathered; the men lying on beds in the inner room, one woman on the floor of the other, and one on a cot. All ill. The girl alone held her head up, and she complained it was hard to do even that. Matilda and Norton went from one room to another. The men lay like logs, stupid with fever; one of the women was light-headed; not any of them would touch what Matilda had brought. The poor girl who was still on her feet was crying. There was no fire, no friend, no comfort or help of any sort. Nor ton and his little companion made the rounds helplessly, and then went out to consult together.

"Norton, they are dreadfully ill," whispered Matilda. "I know they are."

"I guess you are right," said Norton. "But you and I can't do anything."

"I can," said Matilda. "I can give them water, and I can give them beef tea. And you, Norton, I will tell you what you can do. Go for Miss Redwood."

"Miss Redwood? who's she?"

"Don't you remember? Mr. Richmond's housekeeper. She'll come, I know."

"She'll be very good if she does," said Norton. "But I'll tell her you said so. Do you think she would come?"

"I'm certain of it."