CHAPTER I
"Oh Norton! Oh Norton! do you know what has happened?"
Matilda had left the study and rushed out into the dining-room to tell her news, if indeed it were news to Norton. She had heard his step. Norton seemed in a preoccupied state of mind.
"Yes!" he said. "I know that confounded shoemaker has left something in the heel of my boot which is killing me."
Matilda was not like some children. She could wait; and she waited, while Norton pulled off his boot, made examinations into the interior, and went stoutly to work with penknife and file. In the midst of it he looked up, and asked, —
"What has happened to you, Pink?"
"Then don't you know yet, Norton?"
"Of course not. I would fine all shoemakers who leave their work in such a slovenly state! If I didn't limp all the way from the bridge here, it was because I wouldn't, – not because I wouldn't like to."
"Why not limp, if it saved your foot?" inquired Matilda.
"You would, Pink, wouldn't you?"
"Why, yes; certainly I would."
"Well, you might," said Norton. "But did you ever read the story of the Spartan boy and the fox?"
"No."
"He stole a fox," said Norton, working away at the inside of his boot, which gave him some trouble.
"But you haven't stolen a fox."
"I should think not," said Norton. "The boy carried the fox home under his cloak; and it was not a tame fox, Pink, by any means, and did not like being .carried, I suppose; and it cut and bit and tore at the boy all the while, under his cloak; so that by the time he got the fox home, it had made an end of him."
"Why didn't he let the fox go?"
"Ah! why didn't he?" said Norton. "He was a boy, and he would have been ashamed."
"And you would have been ashamed to limp in the street, Norton?"
"For a nail in my boot. What is a man good for, that can't stand anything?"
"I should not have been ashamed at all."
"You're a girl," said Norton approvingly. "It is a different thing. What is your news, Pink?"
"But Norton, I don't see why it is a different thing. Why should not a woman be as brave as a man, and as strong, – in one way?"
"I suppose, because she is not as strong in the other way. She hasn't got it to do, Pink, that's all. But a man, or a boy, that can't bear anything without limping, is a muff; that's the whole of it."
"A muff's a nice thing," said Matilda laughing.
"Not if it's a boy," said Norton. "Go on with your news, Pink. What is it?"
"I wonder if you know. Oh Norton, do you know what your mother and Mr. Richmond have been talking about?"
"I wasn't there," said Norton. "If you were, you may tell me."
"I was not there. But Mr. Richmond has been talking to me about it. Norton," – and Matilda's voice sank, – "do you know, they have been arranging, and your mother wishes it, that I should stay with her?"
Matilda spoke the last words very softly, in the manner of one who makes a communication of somewhat awful character; and in truth it had a kind of awe for her. Evidently not for Norton. He had almost finished his boot, and he kept on with his filing, as coolly as if what Matilda said had no particular interest or novelty. She would have been disappointed, but that she had caught one gleam from Norton's eye which flashed like an electric spark. She just caught it, and then Norton went on calmly, —
"I think that is a very sensible arrangement, Pink. I must say, it is not the first time it has occurred to me."
"Then you knew it before?"
"I did not know they had settled it," said Norton, still coolly.
"But you knew it was talked about? O Norton! why didn't you tell me?"
Norton looked up, smiled, dropped his boot, and at once took his new little sister in his arms and clasped her right heartily.
"What for should I tell you, Pink?" he said, kissing Matilda's eyes, where the tears of that incipient disappointment had gathered.
"How could you help telling me?"
"Ah, that is another thing," said Norton. "You couldn't have helped it, could you?"
"But it is true now, Norton."
"Ay, it is true; and you belong to mamma and me now, Pink; and to nobody else in the wide world. Isn't that jolly?"
"And to Mr. Richmond," Matilda added.
"Not a bit to Mr. Richmond; not a fraction," said Norton. "He may be your guardian and your minister if you like; and I like him too; he's a brick; but you belong to nobody in the whole world but mamma and me."
"Well, Norton," said Matilda, with a sigh of pleasure – "I'm glad."
"Glad!" said Norton. "Now come, – let us sit right down and see some of the things we'll do."
"Yes. But no, Norton; I must get Mr. Richmond's supper. I shall not have many times more to do that; Miss Redwood will be soon home, you know."
"And we too, I hope. I declare, Pink, I believe you like getting supper. Here goes! What is to do?"
"Nothing, for you, Norton."
"Kettle on?"
"On ages ago. You may see if it is boiling."
"How can an iron kettle boil? If you'll tell me that."
"Why, the water boils that is in it. The kettle is put for the water."
"And what right have you to put the kettle for the water? At that rate, one might do all sorts of things – Now Pink, how can I tell if the water boils? The steam is coming out of the nose."
"That's no sign, Norton. Does it sing?"
"Sing!" said Norton. "I never learned kettle music. No, I don't think it does. It bubbles; the water in it I mean."
Matilda came in laughing. "No," she said, "it has stopped singing; and now it boils. The steam is coming out from under the cover. That's a sign. Now, Norton, if you like, you may make a nice plate of toast, and I'll butter it. Mr. Richmond likes toast, and he is tired to-night, I know."
"I can't make a plate," said Norton; "but I'll try for the toast. Is it good for people that are tired?"
"Anything comfortable is, Norton."
"I wouldn't be a minister!" said Norton softly, as he carefully turned and toasted the bread, – "I would not be a minister, for as much as you could give me."
"Why, Norton? I think I would – if I was a man."
"He has no comfort of his life," said Norton. "This sort of a minister doesn't have. He is always going, going; and running to see people that want him, and stupid people too; he has to talk to them, all the same as if they were clever, and put up with them; and he's always working at his sermons and getting broken off. What comfort of his life does Mr. Richmond have now? except when you and I make toast for him?"
"O Norton, I think he has a great deal."
"I don't see it."
Matilda stood wondering, and then smiled; the comfort of her life was so much just then. The slices of toast were getting brown and buttered, and made a savory smell all through the kitchen; and now Matilda made the tea, and the flowery fragrance of that added another item to what seemed the great stock of pleasure that afternoon. As Miss Redwood had once said, the minister knew a cup of good tea when he saw it; and it was one of the few luxuries he ever took pains to secure; and the sweetness of it now in the little parsonage kitchen was something very delicious. Then Matilda went and put her head in at the study door.
"Tea is ready, Mr. Richmond."
But the minister did not immediately obey