"Norton," said Matilda, cautiously, "do you think anything I could have bought with that dollar would have given me so much pleasure as that tea-kettle yesterday?"

"It was a good investment," said Norton. "But it is right to eat strawberries, Pink. Where are you going to stop?"

"I'll take Mrs. Eldridge some strawberries," said Matilda, smiling, "when they get plenty."

"Well, agreed," said Norton. "Let us take her some other things too. I've got money. Stop – let me put these plates in the house and fetch a piece of paper; – then we'll see what we'll take her."

Matilda sat while he was gone, looking at the golden mist on the mountains and dreaming.

"Now," said Norton, throwing himself on the turf beside her, with his piece of paper, and thrusting his hand deep down in his pocket to get at his pencil, "Now, let us see what we will do."

"Norton," said Matilda, joyously, "this is better than croquet."

Norton looked up with those bright eyes of his, but his reply was to proceed to business.

"Now for it, Pink. What shall we do for the old lady? What does she want? Pooh! she wants everything; but what to begin with?"

"Strawberries, you said."

"Strawberries! Not at all. That's the last thing. I mean we'll fix her up, Pink. Now what does she want to be comfortable. It is only one old woman; but we shall feel better if she is comfortable. Or you will."

"But what do you mean, Norton? how much can we do?"

"Just as much as we've a mind to. I've got money, I tell you. Come; begin. What goes down first?"

"Why, Norton," said Matilda, in an ecstasy, "it is like a fairy story."

"What?"

"This, that we are doing. It is like a fairy story exactly."

"How is it like fairy stories?" said Norton. "I don't know."

"Did you never read fairy stories?"

"Never. What are they like?"

"Why some of them are just like this," said Matilda. "People are rich, and can do what they please; and they set out to get things together for a feast, or to prepare a palace for some princess; and first one nice thing is got, and then another, and then some thing else; until by and by you feel as if you had been at the feast, or seen the palace, or had done the shopping. I do."

"This isn't for a princess," said Norton.

"No, nor a palace," said Matilda; "but it seems just as good."

"Go on, Pink; let us quit princesses and get to the real business. What do you want to get, first thing?"

"First thing," said Matilda, "I think would be to get somebody to clean the house. There are only two little rooms. It wouldn't be much. Don't you think so, Norton?"

"As we cannot build a palace, and have it new, I should say the old one had better be cleaned."

"Sabrina Rogers would do it, I dare say," Matilda went on; "and maybe that would be something good for her."

"Teach her to clean her own?" said Norton.

"Why no, Norton; her own is clean. I meant, maybe she would be glad of the pay."

"There's another princess, eh, that wants a palace?" said Norton. "If we could, we would new build Lilac Lane, wouldn't we? But then, I should want to make over the people that live in it."

"So should I, and that is the hardest. But perhaps, don't you think the people would be different, if they had things different?"

"I'm certain I should be different, if I lived where they do," said Norton. "But go on, Pink; let us try it on – what's her name. We have only cleaned her house yet."

"The first thing, then, is a bedstead, Norton."

"A bedstead! What does she sleep on?"

"On the floor; with rags and straw, and I think a miserable make-believe of a bed. No sheets, no blankets, nor anything. It is dreadful."

"Rags and straw," said Norton. "Then a bedstead wants a bed on it, Pink; and blankets or coverlets or something, and sheets, and all that."

Matilda watched Norton's pencil as it noted the articles.

"Then she wants some towels, and a basin of some sort to wash in."

"H'm!" said Norton. "Herself, I hope?"

"Yes, I hope so. But she has nothing to make herself clean with."

"Then a stand, and basin, and towels; and a pitcher, Pink, I suppose, to hold water."

"Yes, a pitcher, or jug, or something. We want to get the cheapest things we can. And soap."

"Let's have plenty of that," said Norton, putting down soap. "Now then – what next?"

"A little wooden table, Norton; she has nothing but a chair to set her tea on."

"A table. And a carpet?"

"Oh, no, Norton; that's not necessary. It is warm weather now. She does not want that. But she does want a pail for water. I have to take the tea-kettle to the pump."

Norton at this laughed, and rolled over on the grass in his amusement. Having thus refreshed himself, he came back to business.

"Has she got anything to go on her fire, except a tea-kettle?"

"Not much. A saucepan would be a very useful thing, and not cost much. I bought one the other day; so I know."

"What's a saucepan?" said Norton. "A pan to make sauce in?"

It was Matilda's turn to laugh. "Poor Mrs. Eldridge don't have many puddings, I guess, to make sauce for," she said.

"Well, Pink, now we come, don't we, to the eating line. We must stock her up."

"Put down a broom first, Norton."

"A broom! here goes."

"Yes, you can't think how much I have wanted a broom there. And a tea-pot. Oh yes, and a little milk pitcher, and sugar bowl. Can't we?"

"I should think we could," said Norton. "Tea-cups?"

"I guess not. She's got two; and three plates. Now, Norton – the eatables. What did you think of?"

"I suppose there isn't anything in the house," said Norton.

"Nothing at all, except what we took there."

"Then she wants everything."

"But you see, Norton, she can't do any thing herself; she couldn't use some things. There would be no use – "

"No use in what?"

"Flour, for instance. She couldn't make bread."

"I don't know anything about flour," said Norton. "But she can use bread when she sees it, I will take my affidavit."

"Oh yes, bread, Norton. We will take her some bread, and a little butter; and sugar; and tea. She has got some, but it won't last long."

"And I said she should have a mutton-chop."

"I dare say she would like it."

"I wonder if a bushel of potatoes wouldn't be the best thing of all."

"Potatoes would be excellent," said Matilda, delightedly. "I suppose she would be very glad of anything of that sort. Let's take her some cheese, Norton."

"Cheese. And strawberries. And cake, Pink."

"I am afraid we should be taking too much at once. We had better leave the cake to another time."

"There's something we forgot," said Norton. "Mr. What's-his-name will not split up box covers for your fire every day; we must send in a load of firing. Wood, I guess."

"Oh, how good!" said Matilda. "You see, Norton, she has had no wood to make a fire even to boil her kettle."

"And no kettle to boil," added Norton.

"So that she went without even tea. I don't know how she lived. Did you see how she enjoyed the tea yesterday?"

"Pink," said Norton, "do you expect to go there to make her fire every day?"

"No, Norton, I cannot every day; I cannot always get away from home. But I was thinking – I know some other girls that I guess would help; and if there were several of us, you know, it would be very easy."

"Well," said Norton, "we have fixed up this palace and princess now. What do you think of getting the princess a new dress or two?"

"Oh, it would be very nice, Norton. She wants it."

"Mamma will do that. Could you get it, Pink? would you know how? supposing your purse was long enough."

"Oh yes, Norton. Of course I could!"

"Then you shall do it. Who will see to all the rest?"

"To buy the things, do you mean?"

"To buy them, and to choose them, and to get them to their place, and all that?"

"Why, you and I, Norton. Shan't we?"

"I think that is a good arrangement. The next question is, when? When shall we send the things there?"

"We must get the rooms cleaned. I will see about that. Then, Norton, the sooner the better; don't you think so?"

"How is it in the fairy stories?"

"Oh, it's all done with a breath there; that is one of the delightful things about it. You speak, and the genie comes; and you tell him what you want, and he goes and fetches it; there is no waiting. And yet, I don't know," Matilda added; "I don't wish this could be done in a breath."

"What?" said a voice close behind her. The two looked up, laughing, to see Mrs. Laval. She was laughing too.

"What is it, that is not to be done in a breath?"

"Furnishing a palace, mamma – (getting it cleaned first,) and setting up a princess."

Mrs. Laval wanted to hear about it, and gradually she slipped down on the grass beside Matilda, and drew an arm round her, while she listened to Norton's story. Norton made quite a story of it, and told his mother what Matilda had been doing the day before in Lilac Lane, and what schemes they had presently on hand. Mrs. Laval listened curiously.

"Dear, is it quite safe for you to go to such a place?" she asked Matilda then.

"Oh yes, ma'am."

"But it cannot be pleasant."

"Oh yes, ma'am!" Matilda answered, more earnestly.

"How can it be?"

"I thought it would not be pleasant, at first," said Matilda; "but I found it was."

"What made it pleasant, dear?"

"If you saw the poor old woman, Mrs. Laval, and how much she wanted comfort, I think you would understand it."

"Would you come and see me, if I wanted comfort?" the lady inquired. Matilda smiled at the possibility. Then something in Mrs. Laval's face reminded her that even with such a beautiful house and so rich abundance of things that money can buy, there might be a sad want of something that money cannot buy; and she grew grave again.

"Would you?" Mrs. Laval repeated.

And Matilda said "Yes." And Mrs. Laval again put her face down to Matilda's face and pressed her lips upon hers, again and again, as if she drew some sweetness from them. Not so passionately as the time before; yet with quiet earnestness. Then with one hand she stroked the hair from Matilda's forehead, and drew it forward, and passed her fingers through it, caressing it in a tender, thoughtful way. Norton knelt on the grass beside them and looked on, watching and satisfied. Matilda was happy and passive.

"Have you got money enough, love, for all you want to do?" Mrs. Laval asked at length.

"I haven't much," said Matilda; "but Norton is going to help."

"Have you got enough, Norton?"

"I guess so, mamma."

Mrs. Laval put her hand in her pocket and drew out a little morocco pocket-book. She put it in Matilda's hand.

"Norton shall not do it all," she said. "I don't know exactly how much is in this; you can use what you choose on this fairy palace you and Norton are building."

"Oh, ma'am!" Matilda began, flushing and delighted. Mrs. Laval stopped her mouth with a kiss.

"But, ma'am, won't you please take out what you wish I should spend for Mrs. Eldridge."

"Spend just what you like."

"I might take too much," said Matilda.

"It is all your's. Do just what you like with it. Spend what you like in Lilac Lane, and the rest for something else."

"Oh, ma'am!" – Matilda began again in utter bewildered delight.

"No, darling, don't say anything about it," Mrs. Laval answered, finding Matilda's pocket and slipping the pocket-book in. "You shall talk to me about it another time. I wish you could give me your secret."

"What secret, ma'am?" said Matilda, who for the very delight that flushed her could hardly speak.

"How to get so much satisfaction out of a little money."

Matilda wished she could give Mrs. Laval anything that would do her a pleasure, and she began to think, could she let her into this secret? It seemed a simple secret enough to Matilda; but she had a certain consciousness that for the great lady it might be more difficult to understand than it was for her. Was it possible that elegant pocket-book was in her pocket?

But now came the summons to tea, and they got up off the grass and went in. So beautiful a table Matilda had never seen, and more thorough petting no little girl ever had. No one else was there but those three, so she was quite at home. Such a pleasant home it was, too. The windows all open, of the large, airy, pretty dining-room; the blue mountains seen through the windows at one side; from the others, the green of the trees and the gay colours of flowers; the evening air drew gently through the room, and flowers and fruit and all sorts of delicacies and all sorts of elegances on the table made Matilda feel she was in fairyland.

"When are you coming again?" said Mrs. Laval, taking her in her arms when she was about going.

"Whenever you will let me, ma'am."

"Could you learn to love me a little bit, some day?"

Matilda did not know how to answer. She looked into the handsome dark eyes that were watching her, and with the thought of the secret sympathy between the lady and herself, her own watered.

"I see you will," said Mrs. Laval, kissing her. "Now kiss me."

She sat quite still while Matilda did so; then returned it warmly, and bade Norton take care of her home.

CHAPTER V

Matilda found her aunt, cousin, and sister gathered in the parlour.

"Well!" said Maria. "I suppose you have had a time."

"A good time?" Mrs. Candy asked. Matilda replied "Yes."

"You stayed late," observed Clarissa. This did not seem to need an answer.

"What have you been doing?" Maria asked.

"Playing."

"You sigh over it, as if there were some melancholy associations connected with the fact," said Clarissa.

So there were, taken with the contrast at home. Matilda could not explain that.

"Any company there?" inquired Mrs. Candy.

"No, ma'am."

"You are wonderfully taciturn," said Clarissa. "Do tell us what you have been about, and whether you have enjoyed yourself."

"I enjoyed myself," said Matilda, repressing another sigh.

"Did you bring any message for me?" asked her aunt.

"No, Aunt Candy."

"Did you deliver mine to Mrs. Laval?"

"What, ma'am?"

"My message. Did you deliver it?"

"No, aunt Candy."

"Did you forget it, Matilda?"

"I did not forget it."

Both mother and daughter lifted up their heads at this.

"Why did you not give the message, then?"

Matilda was in sore difficulty. There was nothing she could think of to say. So she said nothing.

"Speak, child!" said her aunt. "Why did you not give my message as I charged you?"

"I did not like to do it, Aunt Candy."

"You did not like to do it! Please to say why you did not like to do it."

It was so impossible to answer, that Matilda took refuge in silence again.

"It would have been civil in Mrs. Laval to have sent her message, whether or no," said Clarissa.

"Go up-stairs, Matilda," said her aunt; "and don't come down again to-night. No, Maria," for Maria rose, muttering that she would go too, "no, you do not go now. Sit down, till the usual time. Go to bed, Matilda. I will talk to you to-morrow."

It was no punishment, the being sent off; though her aunt's words and manner were. In all her little life, till now, Matilda had never known any but gentle and tender treatment. She had not been a child to require other; and though a more decided government might have been good, perhaps, the soft and easy affection in the midst of which she had grown up was far better for her than harshness, which indeed she never deserved. As she went up the stairs to-night, she felt like a person suddenly removed, in the space of an hour, from the atmosphere of some balmy, tropical clime, to the sharp rigours of the north pole. She shivered, mentally.

But the effect of the tropics returned when she had closed the door of her room. The treasures of comfort and pleasure stored up that afternoon were not lost; and being a secret treasure, they were not within anybody's power. Matilda kneeled down and gave thanks for it all; then took out her pocket-book and admired it; she would not count the money this evening, the outside was quite enough. She stowed it away in a safe place, and slowly undressed; her heart so full of pleasant things enjoyed and other pleasant things hoped for, that she soon utterly forgot Mrs. Candy, message and all. Sweet visions of what was to be done in Lilac Lane rose before her eyes; what might not be done, between Norton and her, now? and with these came in other visions – of those kisses of Mrs. Laval, which had been such mother's kisses. Matilda stood still to remember and feel them over again. Nobody had ever kissed her so, but her mother. And so, in a little warm heart-glow of her own which enveloped everything, like the golden haze on the mountains that evening, Matilda undressed leisurely, and read her Bible, and prayed, and went to sleep. And her waking mood was like the morning light upon the mountains, so clear and quiet.

Maria, however, was in complete contrast. This was not very unusual. She was crusty, and ironical, and disposed to find fault.

"I wonder how long this is going to last?" she said, in the interval between complaining and fault-finding.

"What?" Matilda asked.

"This state of things. Not going to school, nor learning anything; cooking and scrubbing for Aunt Candy; and you petted and taken up-stairs to be taught, and asked out to tea, and made much of. Nobody remembers that I am alive."

"Dear Maria, I have been asked out to tea just once."

"You'll be asked again."

"And I am sure people come to see you. Frances Barth was here yesterday; and Sarah Haight and Esther Trembleton two days ago; and Esther asked you to tea too."

"I couldn't go."

"But people remember you are alive. O Maria, they remember you too. Mr. Richmond don't forget you; and Miss Benton asked you to come to tea with her."

"It is all very well talking," said Maria. "I know what I know; and I am getting tired of it. You are the only one that has any really good times."

It soon appeared that one of Matilda's good times was not to be to-day. Mrs. Candy and Clarissa looked on her coldly, spoke to her dryly, and made her feel that she was not in favour. Matilda could bear this down-stairs pretty well; but when she found her self in Mrs. Candy's room for her morning hours of reading and darning, it became heavy. Reading was not the first thing to-day. Mrs. Candy called Matilda to stand before her, while she proceeded to give her a species of correction in words.

"You were baptized a few weeks ago, Matilda."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And by so being, you became a member of the Church; – of your church."

"Yes, ma'am."

"What do you think are the duties of a member of the Church?"

A comprehensive question, Matilda thought. She hesitated.

"I ask you, what do you think are the duties of a member of the Church? in any branch of it."

"I suppose they are the same as anybody else's duties," Matilda answered.

"The same as anybody else's duties."

"Yes, Aunt Candy."

"You think it makes no change in one's duties?"

"What change does it make, aunt Candy?"

Matilda spoke in all innocence; but Mrs. Candy flushed and frowned. It did not sweeten her mood that she could not readily find an answer for the child.

"You allow, at least, that it is one of your duties to obey the fifth commandment?"

"Yes, Aunt Candy. I try to do it."

"Did you try last night?"

Matilda was silent.

"You made me guilty of rudeness by not delivering the message I had charged you with; and you confessed it was not through forgetfulness. Will you tell me now why it was?"

It had been through a certain nice sense on Matilda's part that the message was uncalled for, and even a little officious. She would have been mortified to be obliged to repeat it to Mrs. Laval. There had never been the least intercourse between the ladies, and Mrs. Laval had sought none. If Mrs. Candy sought it, Matilda was unwilling it should be through her means. But she could not explain this to her aunt.

"You did not choose it," that lady said again, with kindling anger.

"I did not mean to offend you, Aunt Candy."

"No, because you thought I would never hear of it. I have a great mind, as ever I had to eat, to whip you, Matilda. You are not at all too old for it, and I believe it would do you a great deal of good. You haven't had quite enough of that sort of thing."

Whether Matilda had or had not had enough of that sort of thing, it seemed to her that it was very far from Mrs. Candy's place to propose or even hint at it. The indignity of the proposal flushed the child with a sense of injury almost too strong to be borne. Mrs. Candy, in all her years of life, had never known the sort of keen pain that her words gave now to a sensitive nature, up to that time held in the most dainty and tender consideration. Matilda did not speak nor stir; but she grew pale.

"The next time you shall have it," Mrs. Candy went on. "I should have no hesitation at all, Matilda, about whipping you; and my hand is not a light one. I advise you, as your friend, not to come under it. Your present punishment shall be, that I shall refuse you permission to go any more to Mrs. Laval's."

The child was motionless and gave no sign, further than the paleness of her cheeks; which indeed caught Clarissa's observant eye, and made her uneasy. But she did not tremble nor weep. Probably the rush of feeling made such a storm in her little breast that she could not accurately measure the value of this new announcement, or know fairly what it meant. Perhaps, too, it was like some other things to her limited experience, too bad to be believed; and Matilda did not really receive it as a fact, that her visits to Mrs. Laval had ceased. She realised enough, however, poor child, to make it extremely difficult to bear up and maintain her dignity; but she did that. Nothing but the paleness told. Matilda was quite erect and steady before her aunt; and when she was at last bidden to go to her seat and begin her reading, her graceful little head took a set upon her shoulders which was very incensing to Mrs. Candy.

"I advise you to take care!" she said, threateningly.

But Matilda could not imagine what new cause of offence she had given. It was very hard to read aloud. She made two or three efforts to get voice, and then went stiffly on.

"You are not reading well," her aunt broke in. "You are not thinking of what you are reading."

Matilda was silent.

"Why do you not speak? I say you do not read well. Why don't you attend to your book?"

"I never understand this book," said Matilda.

"Of course not, if you do not attend. Go on!"

"She can't read, mamma," whispered Clarissa.

"She shall read," Mrs. Candy returned, in an answering whisper.

And recognising that necessity, Matilda put a force on herself and read on, at the imminent peril of choking every now and then, as one thought and another came up to grasp her. She put it by or put it down, and went on; obliged herself to go on; wouldn't think, till the weary pages were come to an end at last, and the hoarse voice had leave to be still, and she took up her darning. Thoughts would have overcome her self-control then, in all nature; but that, happily for Matilda's dignity as she wished to maintain it, Mrs. Candy was pleased to interrupt the darning of stockings to give Matilda a lesson in patching linen – an entirely new thing to the child, requiring her best attention and care; for Mrs. Candy insisted upon the patch being straight to a thread, and even as a double web would have been. Matilda had to baste and take out again, baste and take out again; she had enough to do without going back upon her own grievances; it was extremely difficult to make a large patch of linen lie straight on all sides and not pucker itself or the cloth somewhere. Matilda pulled out her basting threads the third time, with a sigh.

"You will do it, when you come to taking pains enough," said Mrs. Candy.

Now Matilda knew that she was taking the utmost pains possible. She said nothing, but her hands grew more unsteady.

"Mamma, may I help her?" said Clarissa.

"No. She can do it if she tries," said Mrs. Candy.

Matilda queried within herself how it would do to throw up the work, and declare open rebellion; how would the fight go? She was conscious that to provoke a fight would be wrong; but passion just now had got the upper hand of wisdom in the child. She concluded, however, that it would not do; Mrs. Candy could hold out better than she could; but the last atom of goodwill was gone out of her obedience.

"Matilda," said Mrs. Candy.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You have been an hour and a half trying to fix that patch."

"Isn't it long enough for one day?" said Matilda, wearily, sitting back on her heels.

She had got down on the floor the better to manage the work; a large garment with a large patch to be laid.

"Too long, by an hour; but not long enough, inasmuch as it is not yet done."

"I am too tired to do it."

"We will see that."

Matilda sat back on her heels, looking at the hopeless piece of linen. She was flushed, and tired, and angry; but she only sat there looking at the linen.

"It has got to be done," said Mrs. Candy.

"I must get rested first," said Matilda.

"You are not to say 'must' to me," said her aunt. "My dear, I shall make you do whatever I order. You shall do exactly what I tell you in everything. Your times of having your own way are ended. You will do my way now. And you will put on that patch neatly before you eat."

"Maria will want me."

"Maria will do very well without."

Matilda looked at her aunt in equal surprise and dismay. Mrs. Candy had not seemed like this before. Nothing had prepared her for it. But Mrs. Candy was a cold-natured woman, not the less fiery and proud when roused. She could be pleasant enough on the surface, and in general intercourse with people; she could have petted Matilda and made much of her, and was, indeed, quite inclined that way. If only Mrs. Laval had not taken her up, and if Matilda had not been so independent. The two things together touched her on the wrong side. She was nettled that the wish of Mrs. Laval was to see only Matilda, of the whole family; and upon the back of that, she was displeased beyond endurance that Matilda should withstand her authority and differ from her opinion. There was no fine and delicate nature in her to read that of the child; only a coarse pride that was bent upon having itself regarded. She thought herself disregarded. She was determined to put that down with a high hand.

Seeing or feeling dimly somewhat of all this, Matilda sat on the floor in a kind of despair, looking at her patch.

"You had better not sit so, but go about it," said Mrs. Candy.

"Yes. I am tired," said Matilda.

"You will not go down to dinner," said Mrs. Candy.

Could she stand it? Matilda thought. Could she bear it, and not cry? She was getting so tired and down-hearted. It was quite plain there would be no going out this afternoon to buy things for Lilac Lane. That delightful shopping must be postponed; that hope was put further in the distance. She sat moodily still. She ceased to care when the patching got done.

"Losing time," said Mrs. Candy at length, getting up and putting by her own basket. "The bell will ring in a few minutes, Matilda; and I shall leave you here to do your work at your leisure."

The child looked at her and looked down again, with what slight air of her little head it is impossible to describe, though it undoubtedly and unmistakably signified her disapproval. It was Matilda's habitual gesture, but resented by Mrs. Candy. She stepped up to her and gave the side of her head a smart stroke with the palm of her hand.

"You are not to answer me by gestures, you know I told you," she exclaimed. And she and Clarissa quitting the room, the door was locked on the outside.

Matilda's condition at first was one of simple bewilderment. The indignity, the injury, the wrong, were so unwonted and so unintelligible, that the child felt as if she were in a dream. What did it mean? and was it real? The locked door was a hard fact, that constantly asserted itself; perhaps so did Matilda's want of dinner; the linen patches on the floor were another tangible fact. And as Matilda came to realise that she was alone and could indulge herself, at last a flood of bitter tears came to wash, they could not wash away, her hurt feeling and her despair. Every bond was broken, to Matilda's thinking, between her and her aunt; all friendship was gone that had been from one to the other; and she was in the power of one who would use it. That was the hardest to realise; for if Matilda had been in her mother's power once, it had also been power never exercised. The child had been always practically her own mistress. Was that ended? Was Mrs. Candy her mistress now? her freedom gone? and was there no escape? It made Matilda almost wild to think these thoughts, wild and frightened together; and with all that, very angry. Not passionately, which was not her nature, but with a deep sense of displeasure and dislike. The patch and the linen to be patched lay untouched on the floor, it is need less to say, when Mrs. Candy came up from dinner.

Mrs. Candy came up alone. She surveyed the state of things in silence. Matilda had been crying, she saw. She left her time to recover from that and take up her work. But Matilda sat despairing and careless, looking at it and not thinking of it.

"You do not mean to do that, do you?" she said at last.

"Yes, ma'am – sometime," Matilda answered.

"Not now?"

"When I get a little rested."

"You want something," said Mrs. Candy, looking at her; "and I know what it is. You want bringing down. You never were brought down in your life, I believe, or you would not dare me so now!"

"I did not mean to dare you, Aunt Candy," said Matilda, lifting her head.

"You will not do it after to-day," said Mrs. Candy. "I am not going to give you what I threatened. I leave that for another time. I don't believe we shall ever come to that. But you want bringing down, all the same; and I know what will do it, too. Cold water will do it."

"What do you mean, Aunt Candy?"

"I mean cold water. I have heard you say you don't like it; but it would be very good for you, in two ways. I am going to bathe you with it from your head to your feet. Here is my bath-tub, and I'll have it ready in a minute. Take off your clothes, Matilda."