That evening Judith proposed another practising of the proverb she and Matilda were to act together; and this time she dressed up for it. A robe of her mother's, which trailed ridiculously over the floor; jewels of value in her ears and on her hands and neck; and finally a lace scarf of Mrs. Lloyd's, which was very rich and extremely costly. Norton was absent on some business of his own; David was the only critic on hand. He objected.

"You can act just as well without all that trumpery, Judith."

"Trumpery! That's what it is to you. My shawl is worth five hundred dollars if it is worth a dollar. It is worth a great deal more than that, I believe; but I declare I get confused among the prices of things. That is one of the cares of riches, that try me most."

"You can act just as well without all that, Judy."

"I can't!"

"You can just as well, if you would only think so."

"Very likely; but I don't think so; that just makes it, you see. I want to feel that I am rich; how am I going to get the idea in my head, boy?--I declare, Satinalia, I think this satin dress is getting frayed already."

"How ought I to be dressed?" inquired Matilda.

"O just as you are. You haven't to make believe, you know; you have got only to act yourself. Come, begin.--I declare, Satinalia, I think this satin dress is getting frayed already."

Matilda hesitated, then put by the displeasure which rose at Judy's rudeness, and entered into the play.

"And how shouldn't it, ma'am, when it's dragging and streaming all over the floor for yards behind you. Satin won't bear every thing."

"No, the satin one gets now-a-days won't. I could buy satin once, that would wear out two of this; and this cost five dollars a yard. Dear me!

I shall be a poor woman yet."

"If you were to cut off the train, ma'am, the dress wouldn't drag so."

"Wouldn't it! you Irish stupid. O I hear something breaking downstairs!

Robert has smashed a tray-ful, I'll be bound. I heard the breaking of gla.s.s. Run, Satinalia, run down as hard as you can and find out what it is. Run before he gets the pieces picked up; for then I shall never know what has happened."

"You'd miss the broken things," said Matilda; not exactly as Satinalia.

"You're an impudent hussy, to answer me so. Run and see what it is, I tell you, or I shall never know."

"What must I say it is?" said Matilda, out of character.

"Haven't you wit enough for that?" said Judith, also speaking in her own proper. "Say any thing you have a mind; but don't stand poking there. La! you haven't seen any thing in all your life, except a liqueur stand. Say any thing! and be quick."

Matilda ran down a few stairs, and paused, not quite certain whether she would go back. She was angry. But she wanted to be friends with Judy and her brother; and the thought of her motto came to her help.

"Do all in the name of the Lord Jesus;"--then certainly with courtesy and patience and kindness, as his servant should. She prayed for a kind spirit, and went back again.

"You've been five ages," cried the rich woman. "Well, what's broke?"

"Ma'am, Robert has let fall a tray full of claret gla.s.ses, and the salad dish with a pointed edge."

"_That_ salad dish!" exclaimed Judy. "It was the richest in New York.

The Queen of England had one like it; and n.o.body else but me in this country. I told Robert to keep it carefully done up in cotton; and _never_ to wash it. That is what it is to have things."

"Don't it have to be washed?" inquired Matilda.

"I wish I could get into your head," said Judy impatiently and speaking quite as Judy, "that you are a maid servant and have no business to ask questions. I suppose you never knew anything about maid-servants till you came here; but you have been here long enough to learn _that_, if you were not perfectly _bourgeoise!_"

"Hush, Judy; you forget yourself," said David.

"She don't understand!" said the polite young lady.

"You do not get on with your proverb at this rate," he went on, glancing at Matilda, whose cheek gave token of some understanding.

"Stupid!" said Judy, returning to her charge and play,--"don't you understand that when that dish is used I wash it myself? And what claret gla.s.ses were they? I'll be bound they are the yellow set with my crest?"

"Those are the ones," Satinalia a.s.sented.

"That is what it is to have things! My life is one trouble.

Satinalia!"--

"Ma'am."

"I haven't got my diamond bracelet on."

"No, ma'am; I do not see it."

"Well, go and see it. Find it and bring it to me. I want it on with this dress."

Matilda being instructed in this part of her duties, reported that she could not find the bracelet. The jewel box was ordered in, and examined, with a great many lamentations and conjectures as to the missing article. Finally the supposed owner declared she must write immediately to her jewellers to know if they had the bracelet, either for repair or safe keeping. Satinalia was despatched for a writing desk; and then for a candle.

"There are no tapers in this concern," Judy remarked; "and the note must be sealed. Somebody might find out that the bracelet is missing, and so it would be missing for ever, from me. Satinalia, what do you stand there for? Do you not hear me say I want a candle?"

"Can't you make believe as well?" asked Matilda, not Satinalia.

"You are too tiresome!" exclaimed Judy. "What do you know about it, at all, I should like to know. I think, when I give you the favour of playing with me, that is enough. You do as I tell you."

Matilda went for the candle, inwardly resolving that she would not enjoy the privilege of practising with Judy another time unless Norton were by. In his presence she was protected. A tear or two came from the little girl's eyes, before she got back to the lobby with the lighted candle. Judy perhaps wanted to make a tableau of herself at the letter sealing; for she took an elegant att.i.tude, that threw her satin drapery imposingly about her and displayed her bare arm somewhat theatrically, gleaming with jewels and softened by the delicate lace of the scarf.

But thereby came trouble. In a careless sweep of her arm, sealing-wax in hand, no doubt intended to be very graceful, the lace came in contact with the flame of the candle; and a hole was burnt in the precious fabric before anybody could do any thing to prevent it. Then there was dismay. Judy shrieked and flung herself down with her head on her arms. David and Matilda looked at the lace damage, and looked at each other. Even he looked grave.

"It's a pretty bad business," he concluded.

"O what shall I do! O what shall I do!" Judith cried. "O what _will_ grandmamma say! O I wish Christmas never came!"--

"What sort of lace is this?" Matilda asked, still examining the scarf which David had let fall from his fingers. He thought it an odd question and did not answer. Judy was crying and did not hear.

"The best thing is to own up now, Judy," said her brother. "It is no use to cry."

"Yes, it is!" said Judy vehemently. "That's all a boy knows about it; but they don't know everything."

"I don't _see_ the use of it, at all events," said David. "If tears were spiders, they might mend it."

"Spiders mend it!" repeated Judy. "David, you are enough to provoke a saint."

"But you are not a saint," said her brother. "It need not provoke you.

What are you going to do?"