"What supper?" said Matilda.

"The supper we had arranged so finely, a long while ago. The celebration of your good woman's moving in."

"My good woman?--O, you mean Mrs. Staples. She hasn't moved in yet?"

"No! we waited for you to get well."

"Waited all this while!" said Matilda. "David, I wonder when I shall be able to go out?"

"Not in a good while, Tilly, to any such entertainment as that. I dare say you can go driving in the Park in two or three weeks."

"But she cannot wait all that while!" said Matilda; and then she stopped. If not, then the moving of Mrs. Staples, and all the delight of the supper to be prepared for her, and the pleasure of seeing her pleasure, must be for others; not for the little planner and contriver of the whole. For a minute Matilda felt as if she could not give it up; this rare and exquisite joy; such a chance might not come again in a very long while. She wanted to see how the stove would work; she wanted to hear the kettle sing, and to set the table with the new cups and saucers, and to make the tea that first time, and give the in comers a welcome. _Could_ all that be lost? It seemed very hard. Matilda's eyes filled with tears.

"What is the matter?" said David kindly.

Matilda struggled to speak. She knew what she must say; but at first she could hardly get the words out. She hesitated, and David repeated his question.

"It won't do for them to wait so long," she said, lifting her eyes to his face.

"Who? your poor people there? Well, it does seem a pity, looking at the place where they are now."

"It won't do," Matilda repeated. "It is best for them to go right in, David. But I can't manage it. I can't do anything."

"Will you trust me?"

"O yes! if you'll do it. But won't it be a great trouble to you, David?"

"On the contrary, I shall like it capitally. You tell me exactly what you want done, and I'll attend to it."

"O thank you! Then you'll have to get the supper things, David."

"Yes, I know all about that."

"And get Mr. Wharncliffe to tell Mrs. Staples."

"Yes."

"And--can you buy some calico for me?"

"Certainly. But I'd put something warmer on them than calico, Tilly."

"What?"

"I don't know," said David laughingly; "I don't know what women wear.

But I suppose I can find out. Something _warm_, Tilly; the air is snapping and biting out of doors, I can tell you."

"O well, do see about it as soon as you can, David, and let them move in by Sat.u.r.day; can't you?"

David promised. And when he was gone, and Matilda was alone in bed again at night, she fought out her whole fight with disappointment.

Rather a hard fight it was. Matilda did not see why, when she was about a very good thing, so much of the pleasure of it should have been taken away from her. Why could not her sickness have been delayed for one week? and now the very flower and charm of her scheme must fall into the hands of others. She dwelt upon the details, from which she had looked for so much pleasure, and poured out hearty tears over them. She was as much in the dark nearly as Job had been; as much at a loss to know why all this should have befallen her. All the comfort she could get at was in imagining the scenes she could not now see, and fancying all over and over to herself how Sarah and her mother would look and feel.

After that day Matilda's improvement was steady. Soon she had Norton and Judy and even David running in and out at all hours, to see her or to tell her something.

"Great news," said Norton bursting in as usual one evening. "What do you think, Pink? David and Judy have been to be catechized."

"Catechized?" Matilda repeated. "Do they learn the catechism?"

"Not yours, I promise you," said Norton. "No, not exactly. But they have been to a Jewish catechizing; to be examined in the Jews'

Scriptures, you know, and all that. They ought to have been catechized, it seems, when they were younger; but David and Judy have been travelling about and there has been no chance. Now they've got it! And O how Davy has been studying his Bible."

"His Bible is just like ours, isn't it?--all but the New Testament?"

"_He_ thinks that's a pretty large 'all but.'"

"But the rest is just the same as ours?"

"I suppose so; yes, I believe so. And they have had a great time, and Davy has come off with a blue ribband or something, and been greatly distinguished."

"Well?" said Matilda eagerly.

"Well. They all went to it, grandma and aunt Judy, and they don't know whether they are most pleased or most vexed."

"Vexed?" repeated Matilda.

"Yes. You see, their Jew friends and relations are getting great hold of Davy; and now I suppose he will be more of a Jew than ever."

"How will that make him different?" said Matilda, puzzled.

"Different?" said Norton. "Why, you don't think Jews are like all the rest of the world, do you?"

"I don't know," Matilda answered. "I think--if I was a Jew--I would like it."

To which Norton answered at first with a questioning frown; then cleared his brow and laughed.

"You'd like anything that made you different from the rest of the world," he said. "But you're a Pink! and that makes it of course."

"You used to say I was a brick," said Matilda.

"So you are. I'll fight any boy that says you aren't."

But that made Matilda laugh so much that Mrs. Laval, coming in, was afraid she would fatigue herself; and she sent Norton away. Matilda after this was very curious and a little anxious to see David, and find out what change his being "more of a Jew than ever" would have made in him. When he came, she could not find any change. It was Sat.u.r.day evening, after tea; so rather late. He came to bring her the news she wanted.

"Well, it's done, Matilda," he said as he entered.

"And all right, David?"

"Right as can be. Don't you get excited, and I will tell you all about it."