"You were late from school, Maria and Matilda," their aunt remarked, finding Anne and Letty unmanageable. "What was the reason?"

"Tilly was talking to me," Maria said.

"You could talk on the way home, I should think. I dislike to have dinner eaten by stages; first one set coming, and then another. I am going to ask you to be punctual for the future. Do not be in a hurry, Maria; there is time enough, now you are here, to eat moderately."

"I am hungry. I don't want to eat moderately, Aunt Erminia."

"As much as you wish; but you can be moderate in manner, cannot you, even if not in quant.i.ty?"

"n.o.body ever told me I eat too much, before," said Maria.

"There are a great many things that you have never been told, I suppose?" said Clarissa, lifting her handsome eyes quietly.

"I don't care about your telling me either," said Maria.

"My dear, that is not polite," interposed her aunt. "I am sorry to hear you speak so. Would you not like to have Issa, or any one, tell you things that you would be the better for. You would not wish to remain just as you are, to the end of your days?"

"It don't hurt anybody but me," said Maria.

"I beg your pardon. Everything that is not graceful and well-mannered, on the part of people in whose company we are, hurts me and Clarissa.

It hurts me to have you bolt down your food as you were doing just now--if I am sitting at the same table with you. And it hurts me to have you speak rudely. I hope you will mend in all these things."

"It will not hurt you to have us say good-bye," said Anne, rising. "I will do that now, if you please. Letty, I will leave you to take care of these things, and I will finish the packing. We must be quick, too."

The farewell greetings with her aunt and cousin were soon spoken; and Maria and Matilda tore up-stairs after their sister, to pour out tears and complaints together during the remaining moments of her being at home. Matilda's tears, however, were quiet and her words very few.

"Ain't she too bad!" exclaimed Maria.

"You must try and hold your own the best you can," said Anne, "until mamma gets up again. Poor children! I am afraid she will be too much for you."

"But, Anne, did you think Aunt Candy was like that?" said Maria. "She wasn't like that at first."

"I guess she was. All she wanted was a chance. Now she's got it. Try and bear it the best you can till mamma is well. She cannot be worried now."

"Is mamma very sick, Anne?" Matilda ventured.

"N-o," said Anne, "but she might be, Tilly, if she was worried. The doctor says she is very nervous, and must be kept quiet. She has been worrying so long, you see. So you must try and not do anything to fret her."

The prospect was sad. When the omnibus came to take Anne and Letty to the station, and when the last kisses and hugs were over, and the omnibus bounced away, carrying with it all they had at the moment, the two girls left at home felt forlorn enough. The only thing to be done was to rush up-stairs to their room and cry their hearts out. And that was done thoroughly.

But by and by, Matilda's thoughts, in their very extreme need of comfort, began to take up the words again which she had once found so good: "Cast thy burden upon the Lord; He shall sustain thee." She left her sobbing, dried her eyes, sat down by the window, and found the place in her Bible, that her eyes might have the comfort of seeing and reading the words there. The Lord's words: Tilly knew they were true.

But Maria sobbed on. At last her little sister called her.

"What is it?" said she.

"Come here,--and I will show you something good."

"Good?--what?" said Maria, approaching the window. "Oh, words in the Bible!"

"Read, Maria."

"I have read them before," said the other, sullenly, after she had glanced at the place.

"But they are true, Maria."

"Well; they don't help me."

"But they help _me_," said Matilda. "It's Jesus' promise to help."

"I don't believe it is for such things as this."

"Why not?" said Matilda, a sudden chill coming over her heart. "It says just, 'Cast thy burden'--it might be any burden; it does not signify what it is, Maria."

"Yes, it does; it is not for such little things," said Maria. "It is for great religious people and their affairs. Oh dear! oh dear!"

Sorely troubled now at having her supports knocked away from under her, Matilda eagerly sought further, if perchance she might find something that Maria could not question. Her Bible had a few references in the margin; consulting these, she presently found what she had need of; but a feeling of want of sympathy between them forbade her to show the new words to her sister. Matilda pored over them with great rest of heart; gave thanks for them; and might have used with truth David's language--"Thy words were found, and I did eat them." The words were these:--

"Be careful for nothing; but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto G.o.d. And the peace of G.o.d that pa.s.seth understanding shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."

Matilda's eyes were dry and her voice was clear, when she reminded her sister that it was time to get tea. Maria was accustomed to do this frequently, and made no objection now. So the two went down together.

Pa.s.sing the parlour door, however, it opened, and Mrs. Candy called Matilda in.

"I want to speak a word to you, Tilly," she said. "Did you go out last evening?"

"Yes; I did, aunt Erminia."

"You went to church?"

Matilda a.s.sented; but though she had bowed her head, it seemed to be more erect than before.

"And I had told you not to go, had I not? You understood that?"

A silent a.s.sent was again all that the child gave.

"I am accustomed to be obeyed," said Mrs. Candy. "That is my way. It may not be your mother's way; but all the same, I am mistress here while she is sick; mistress over you as well as the rest. You must obey me like all the rest. Will you?"

What was meant by "all the rest" Matilda marvelled, seeing that n.o.body else but Maria and her own daughter were left in the house. This time she gave no sign of answering; she only stood and listened.

"Will you obey me, Tilly?"

Matilda was not sure whether she would. In her mind it depended on circ.u.mstances. She would obey, conditionally. But she would not compromise her dignity by words about it. She was silent.

"I must be obeyed," Mrs. Candy went on, with mild tones, although a displeased face. "If not willingly, then unwillingly. I shall punish you, Matilda, if you disobey me; and so severely that you will find it best not to do it again. But I should be very sorry to have you drive me to such disagreeable doings. We should both be sorry together. It is much best not to let things come to such extremity."

Matilda coloured high, but except that and the slight gesture of her head, she yet gave no reply.

"That is enough upon that subject," the lady went on. "Only, I should be glad to have you tell me that you will try to please me."