"And _we_ are here," said Let.i.tia. "I don't know why all the good should come to Matilda, for my part."

Matilda could say nothing. It was a dash of cold water.

"I suppose you have everything in the world you want?" Let.i.tia went on.

"Does she treat you really exactly as if you were her child?" said Anne. "Mrs. Laval, I mean."

"Just as if I were," said Matilda.

"And you can have everything you want?" asked Let.i.tia; but not as if she were glad of it.

"If Mrs. Laval knows it," said Matilda.

"You can let her know it, I suppose. It ain't fair!" cried Let.i.tia; "it ain't fair! Why should Matilda have all the good that comes to anybody?

Here this child can have everything she wants; and you and I, and Maria, have to work and work and pinch and pinch, and can't get it then."

"Is that your dress for every day?" said Anne, after she had lifted Matilda's cloak to see what was underneath.

"I don't know, Anne."

"You don't know? Don't you know what you wear every day?"

"Yes, but I don't know what will be my every day frock. I do not wear the same in the morning and in the afternoon."

"You don't!" said Anne. "How many dresses have you?"

"And what are they?" added Let.i.tia.

Matilda was obliged to tell.

"Think of it!" said Letty. "This child! _She_ has silks and cashmeres and reps, more than she can use; and I, old as I am, haven't a dress to go to church in, but one that I have worn a whole winter. I could get one for twenty shillings, and I haven't money to spare for that!"

"Hush," said Anne; "we shall do better by and by, when we have gone further into the business."

"We shall be delving in the business though, for it, all the while. And Matilda is to do nothing and live grand. She'll be too grand to look at us and Maria."

"Where do you live?" Anne asked.

"It's the corner of 40th street and Blessington Avenue."

Anne's face darkened.

"Where is Blessington Avenue?" asked Let.i.tia.

"It's away over the other side of the city," Anne answered.

"Well, I suppose there is all New York between us," said Let.i.tia.

"Don't you think _this_ is a delightful part of the town, Matilda?"

"I should think you would go back to Shadywalk, Anne and Letty, when you have learned what you want to learn; it would be pleasanter to make dresses for the people there, wouldn't it, than for people here?"

"Speak for yourself," said Letty. "Do you think n.o.body wants to be in New York but you?"

"I don't want to live where Mrs. Candy lives," said Anne. "That's enough for me."

The conversation had got into a very disagreeable channel, where Matilda could not deal with it. Perhaps that helped her to remember that it was getting late and she must go.

"How did you get here?" asked Let.i.tia. "You could not find your way alone. I declare! you don't mean to say that carriage is for you?"

"I couldn't come any other way," said Ma-tilda, as meekly as if it had been a sin to ride in a carriage.

"I declare!" said Let.i.tia. "Look, Anne, what a carriage. It is a close carriage, just as handsome as it can be."

"Was n.o.body with you?" said Anne.

"No, she has it all to herself," said Let.i.tia. "Well, I hope she'll enjoy it. And I would be glad of twenty shillings to get a dress to walk to church in."

Matilda was glad to bid good bye and to find the carriage door shut upon her. She was very glad to be alone again. Was it any wrong in her, that she had so much more than her sisters? It was not her own doing; she did not make Mrs. Laval's wealth, nor gain Mrs. Laval's affection, by any intent of her own; and further, Matilda could not understand how Anne and Let.i.tia were any worse off for her better circ.u.mstances. If she could have helped it, indeed, that would have been another affair; and here one thorn p.r.i.c.ked into Matilda's heart. She might not have thought of it if the amount named had not been just what it was; but twenty shillings?--that was exactly the two dollars and a half she had paid to be in the fashion as to her toes. Now was it right, or not?

Ought she to have those two and a half dollars in hand to give to Letty for her dress? The thorn p.r.i.c.ked rather sharp.

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"--