"_I_ don't," said Judy. "I have my way of being good--that's all.

Everybody has his own way. What is yours?"

"But there is only one real way."

"Ain't there, though!" exclaimed Judy. "I'll shew you a dozen."

"They can't be all _good_, Judy."

"Who's to say they are not?"

"Why, the Bible." The minute she had said it the colour flushed to Matilda's face. But Judy went on with the greatest coolness.

"Your Bible, or my Bible?"

"There isn't but one Bible, Judy, that I know."

"Yes, there is!" said the young lady fiercely. "There's our Bible, that's the true. There's yours, that's nothing, that you dare bind up with it."

"They both say the same thing," said Matilda.

"They DON'T!" said the girl, sitting upright, and her eyes darted fire.

"They don't say a word alike; don't you dare say it."

"Why Judy, what the one says is good, the other says is good; there is no difference in that. Did you ever read the New Testament?"

"No! and I don't want to; nor the other either. But I didn't come to talk about that."

"What do _you_ call goodness, then?"

"Goodness?" said Judy, relapsing into comparatively harmless mischief; "goodness? It's a sweet apple--and I hate sweet apples."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean _that_. Goody folks are stupid. Aren't they, though!"

"But then, what is your notion of _real_ goodness?"

"I don't believe there is such a thing. Come! you don't either."

"I don't believe in goodness?"

"Goodness!" repeated Judy impatiently, "you needn't stare. I don't choose to be stared at. You know it as well as I. When you are what you call good, you just want the name of it. So do I sometimes; and then I get it. That's cheap work."

"Want the name of what?"

"Why, of being good."

"Then goodness _is_ something. You wouldn't want the name of nothing."

Judy laughed. "I haven't come here to be good to-day," she said; "nor to talk nonsense. I want to tell you about something. We are going to have a party."

"A party! when?"

"Christmas eve. Now it is _our_ party, you understand; mine and Norton's and David's; mamma has nothing to do with it, nor grandmamma, except to prepare everything. _That_ she'll do; but we have got to prepare the entertainment; and we are going to play games and act proverbs; and I have come to see how much you know, and whether you can help."

"What do you want me to know?" said Matilda. "I'll help all I can."

"How much do you know about games? Can you play 'What's my thought like?' or 'Consequences?' or anything?"

"I never played games much," said Matilda, with a sudden feeling of inferiority. "I never had much chance."

"I dare say!" said Judy. "I knew that before I came. Well of course you can't act proverbs. You don't know anything."

"What is it?" said Matilda. "Tell me. Perhaps I can learn."

"You can't learn in a minute," said Judy with a slight toss of her head, which indeed was much given to wagging in various directions.

"But tell me, please."

"Well, there's no harm in that. We choose a proverb, of course, first; for instance the boys are going to play 'It's ill talking between a full man and a fasting.' This is how they are going to do it. n.o.body knows, you understand, what the proverb is, but they must guess it.

Norton will be a rich man who wants to buy a piece of land; and David is the man who owns the land and has come to see him; but he has come a good way, and he is without his dinner, and he feels as cross as can be, and no terms will suit him. So they talk and talk, and disagree and quarrel and are ridiculous; till at last Norton finds out that Davy hasn't dined; and then he orders up everything in the house he can think of, that is good, and makes him eat; and when he has eaten everything and drunk wine and they are cracking nuts, then Norton begins again about the piece of land; and the poor man is so comfortable now he is willing to sell anything he has got; and Norton gets it for his own price. Won't it be good?"

"I should think it would be very interesting," said Matilda; whom indeed the description interested mightily. "But how could I help? I don't see."

"O not in that you couldn't, of course; Davy and Norton don't want any help, I guess, from anybody; they know all about it. But I want you to help _me_. I wonder if you can. I don't believe you can, either. I shall have to get somebody else."

"What do you want me to do?" said Matilda, feeling socially very small indeed.

"I am going to play 'Riches bring care.' I am a rich old woman, like grandmamma, only not like her, for she is never worried about anything; but I am worried to death for fear this or that will come to harm. And I want you to be my maid. I must have somebody, you know, to talk to and worry with."

"If that is all," said Matilda, "I should think I could be talked to."

"But it _isn't_ all, stupid!" said Judy. "You must know how to answer back, and try to make me believe things are going right, and so worry me more and more."

"Suppose we try," said Matilda. "I don't know how I could do, but maybe I might learn."

"I'd rather have it all in the house," said Judy, "if I can. Two proverbs will be enough; for they take a good while--dressing and all, you know."

"Dressing for the proverbs?"

"Of course! Dressing, indeed! Do I look like an old woman _without_ dressing? Not just yet. We must be dressed up to the work. But we can practise without being dressed. When the boys come home to-night, we'll come up here to the lobby and practise. But I don't believe you'll do."

"Will it be a large party, Judy?"

"Hm--I don't know. I guess not. Grandmamma doesn't like large parties.

I dare say she won't have more than fifty."

Fifty seemed a very large party to Matilda; but she would not expose her ignorance, and so held her peace. Judy pottered about the room for a while longer, looking at everything in it, and out of it, Matilda thought; for she lounged at the windows with her arms on the sill, gazing up and down at all that was going on in the street. Finally said they would try a practice in the evening, and she departed.