"You? That _would_ be jolly," said Norton.

"I could go to Mr. Richmond's, you know; and then we could see all about our tulip and hyacinth beds; and it would be _so_ pleasant!"

"Well; suppose you do. I'm agreed."

"Do you think mamma would like it?"

"We'll coax her into thinking it's a splendid plan," said Norton; "and that's what it is."

Matilda's eye went furtively over to David; he met it, but she could not tell what he thought. Hope and pleasure made her cheeks flush high.

Judy tossed her head.

"Why don't you ask me?" she said.

"I haven't asked anybody yet," said Norton.

"I should like to go too. Will you take me?"

"Would you like to say what you would do if you got there?"

"I don't know!" laughed Judy.

"I do. All the mischief you could manage. No, thank you. I should have to sit next you at the hotel table."

"What harm would that do?" said Esther, laughing.

"I should find mustard in my coffee and pepper in my pudding sauce,"

said Norton. "No harm, only rather spoils the coffee and rather hurts the pudding sauce."

Matilda looked suddenly at Norton, and so did Judy, but they saw he was only speaking at random and did not know how close he was coming to the truth. Then the two pairs of eyes met involuntarily. Judy laughed carelessly.

"I'll go, if you go," she said to Norton. "At least, if Matilda goes, I'll go."

This time Matilda's and David's eyes met. He smiled, and she took comfort.

As soon as a good opportunity could be found, the plan was broached to Mrs. Laval, and urged by both her children. She demurred a little; but finally consented, on the strength of Norton's plea that it would do Matilda good. From this time the days were full of delightful hope and preparation. Only David lay on Matilda's thoughts with a weight of care and longing. Once she caught an opportunity, when they were alone, to seize his hand and whisper, "Oh David, can't you come too, and see Mr.

Richmond?" And he had answered very gravely that he did not know; he would see.

Easter fell this year rather late in April; late, that is, for Easter.

Schools were dismissed on Thursday; and Thursday afternoon Matilda and Norton were to take the cars for Shadywalk. She could not say another word to David, or about him; she made her happy preparations with a secret unsatisfied longing running through them all. Judy had made an earnest endeavour to be one of the party; and Matilda did not know how, but the endeavour had failed. And now the early dinner was eaten, her little travelling bag was packed, the carriage was at the door, good byes were said, and Matilda got into the carriage. At that exact minute David came out of the house with _his_ travelling bag in hand, and in a minute more the house door was shut, so was the carriage door, and they were all three rolling off towards the Station.

"O David, I'm so glad!" burst from Matilda. "How did you manage it?"

"Like himself," said Norton; "kept his own counsel and had his own way.

It's a good thing to be Davy Bartholomew."

"I don't know about that," said David.

"Don't you? Never heard a doubt on that subject expressed before. But anyhow, it's jolly to have you along, Davy. Why you've never seen Shadywalk, nor Briery Bank."

Matilda smiled a very bright and expressive smile at David which said, "nor Mr. Richmond either." The smile was so genial and glad and winsome that it cheated David out of some part of his gloom; or perhaps he thought it unworthy to shew it before his kind little companion. He brightened up, and talked about the things that were interesting her and Norton; and at the station behaved like the manly boy he was; getting tickets and taking care of Matilda and finding a good place in the cars where they could all sit together. The moment was so full of joy to Matilda that it made her sober. Going to see her old haunts and old friends was a great deal of itself; going on an expedition with Norton was delightsome; but that David should really be going too, to see Mr. Richmond, almost took away her breath with gladness. The slow movement of the cars, beginning to roll away from the station, was accompanied by a perfect leap and bound of her little heart making an aerial flight on the instant to the end of the journey.

The end of the journey, however, had to be reached by the usual patient, or impatient, stages. Patient in this case, to Matilda. She was so happy that she enjoyed every foot of the way. The spring sunlight on the river it was quite delightful to see again; the different stations on the road were pa.s.sed with curious recollections of the last time, and comparisons of herself now and herself then. The evening fell by the time they reached Poughkeepsie; and shadowy visions of Maria seemed to occupy all the place while the train stopped there.

Poor Maria! Matilda was glad to have the cars move on, since she could get no nearer than visions. Then it grew dark; and she sat musing and dreaming pleasant dreams, till the station of Shadywalk was whistled for.

The old omnibus was in waiting, as usual, and it happened that no other pa.s.senger occupied it to-night except their three selves and one cosy old lady, who "didn't count," Norton said. It was dark; they could not see the landscape.

"Briery Bank ought to be worth a good deal," said David, "when it takes so long to reach it."

"So it is," said Norton.

"O it's lovely, David!" cried Matilda. "Not so much now, though, when the leaves are not out."

"Are you going to the minister's to-night?"

"To be sure I am. Mr. Richmond would be very much surprised if I went anywhere else."

"Well, when I get the beds uncovered, Pink, I'll come for you; and we can see what we will do."

"You'll come with me to-night, Norton?"

"I'll let Davy see you there, while I make arrangements."

"What arrangements? O come now, Norton. Mr. Richmond will like to see you."

"He can wait till to-morrow, I dare say," replied Norton. "Anyhow, I can. You will be enough for to-night."

"What sort of a man is the one you are talking of?" David asked Norton.

"He's a brick," said Norton, and began to whistle; then interrupted himself. "But he is Pink's friend, you understand, much more than mine."

"Some old tutor of yours?" said David smiling.

"Old! not exactly. Nor a tutor neither, that ever I heard; though he does teach folks, or tries to. No, you're out, Davy. I tell you, he's a brick."

"O we're going over the bridge now, Norton!" Matilda exclaimed. "We're almost there. Look! I can see lights, can't I?"

There was no question about it in a few minutes more. Norton got out at the Shadywalk hotel; and the omnibus lumbered on through b.u.t.ternut Street to the parsonage gate and drew up at last before the old brown door. But it was too dark to see colours. Indeed David had some difficulty in finding the knocker; and meanwhile the omnibus lumbered off, while they were not attending. David knocked and knocked again.

Matilda was trembling with delight.

"There's n.o.body at home," said David. "It is all dark."

But at that instant a step was heard in the hall, and the door was opened. A little light that came from within a door somewhere beyond revealed nothing except the outline of a figure.

"Who is it?" said a voice. "My lamp's gone out; I guess it wants a new wick. Who's here?"

"Don't you know me, Miss Redwood?" said Matilda's voice, quivering with pleasure.