"The only way to get to the top, was to stop their ears."
"Yes, Mr. Richmond; I know; I understand. But what golden bird and singing water are we going up hill after?"
"Something better. We want the 'Well done, good and faithful servant,' – do we not? And if we would have that, we must stop our ears against all sorts of voices that would turn aside our eyes from what is at the top of the hill."
"But Mr. Richmond, it is not wicked to wear mourning, is it?"
"No. I was thinking then of other things. But it is very unlike the spirit of religion, when a friend has gone home, to make a parade of gloom about it; very unlike the truth of Christ."
"Mr. Richmond, I am very glad; and now I know what is right, I am very much obliged to you. And Miss Redwood said your dinner would be ready in a quarter of an hour. I guess it is ready now."
Which was the fact; and Matilda ran home, in a different sort of gale now, and at luncheon was quite as light hearted as usual.
CHAPTER IV
It was needful for Norton and Matilda, or they thought so, to take the early train which left the station at half past seven o'clock. The next train would not be till near eleven; and that, it was decided, would not do at all for their purposes. Taking the early train, they would have to go without breakfast; but that was no matter; they would get breakfast at Poughkeepsie, and have so much the more fun. The omnibus came for them a little after half past six, and they were ready; Matilda with an important basket on her arm, which Norton gallantly took charge of.
It was a delightful experience altogether. The omnibus did not immediately take the road to the station; there were several other passengers to gather up, and they drove round corners and stopped at houses in different streets of the village. First they took in old Mr. Kurtz; he was going to New York for his business, Norton whispered to Matilda; he had a large basket and an old lady with him. Then the omnibus went round into the street behind the parsonage and received Mr. Schonflöcken, the Lutheran minister, and from another house another old lady with another basket. Two men got in from the corner. Lastly the omnibus stopped before a house near the baker's; and here they waited. The people were not ready. There were two children missing from the travelling party, it seemed. Inquiries and exclamations were bandied about; the stage driver knocked impatiently and cried out to hurry; Matilda was very much afraid they might miss the train. "Never mind; he knows his business," Norton remarked coolly. At last a man who had been in quest, brought back the stray children from an opposite lumber yard, calling out that they were found; then there were kisses and leave takings, and "Good bye, grandma!" and "Come back again!" – and finally the mother put her children into the omnibus, the first, the second, the third, and the fourth; then got in herself, and the vehicle lumbered on. The omnibus was crowded now; and the new comers had been eating a breakfast of fried cakes and fish, pretty near the stove where it was cooked; for the smoke of the fry had filled their clothes. Of course it filled the omnibus also. This could be borne only a few minutes.
"Dear Norton," Matilda whispered, "can't you open this window for me? I cannot breathe."
"You'll catch cold," said Norton.
"No I won't. Please do! it is choking me."
Norton laughed, and opened the window, and Matilda putting her face close to the opening was able to get a breath of fresh air. Then she enjoyed herself again. The grey dawn was brightening over the fields; the morning air was brisk and frosty; and as soon as Matilda's lungs could play freely again, so could her imagination. How pretty the dusky clumps of trees were against the brightening sky; how lovely that growing light in the east, which every moment rose stronger and revealed more. The farm houses they passed looked as if they had not waked up yet; barns and farmyards were waiting for the day's work to begin; a waggoner or two, going slowly to the station, were all the moving things they saw. The omnibus passed them, and lumbered on.
"Norton," said Matilda suddenly, bringing her face round from the window, "it's delicious to be up so early."
"Unless you are obliged to take other people's breakfast before you get your own," said Norton. He looked disgusted, and Matilda could not help laughing in her turn.
"Put your nose to my window, – you can," she said. "The air is as sweet as can be."
"Outside" – grumbled Norton.
"Well, that is what I am getting," said Matilda. "Can't you get some of it? – poor Norton!"
"What I don't understand," said Norton, "is how people live."
At this point, the old woman with the basket got out, where a cross road branched off. Matilda was obliged to move up into the vacated place, to make more room for the others; and she lost her open window. However, the river came in sight now; the end of the ride was near; and soon she and Norton stood on the steps of the station house.
"I don't believe my coat will get over it all day," said the latter. "There ought to be two omnibuses."
"The poor people cannot help it, Norton; they are not to blame."
"Yes, they are," said Norton. "They might open their windows and air their houses. They are not fit to be in a carriage with clean people."
"I guess they don't know any better," said Matilda; "and they were rather poor people, Norton."
"Well?" said Norton. "That is what I say. There ought to be a coach for them specially."
He went in to buy the tickets, and Matilda remained on the steps, wondering a little why there should be poor people in the world. Why could not all have open windows and free air and sweet dresses? Being poor, she knew, was somehow at the bottom of it; and why should there be such differences? And then, what was the duty of those better off? "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you," – that opened a wide field. Too big to be gone over just now. Matilda was sure that she was in the right way so far, in going to give pleasure to Maria; and by the way she would take all the pleasure she could herself. How sweet it was now! The sun was up, and shining with bright yellow light upon the hills of Rosendale and the opposite shore. The river was all in lively motion under the breeze; the ferry boat just coming in from Rondout; the sky overhead clearing itself of some racks of grey vapour and getting all blue. Could anything be more delicious? Now the passengers came trooping over from the "Lark," to get their tickets; and presently came the rumble of the train. She and Norton jumped into one of the cars, and then they were off.
"I'm hungry," was Norton's first confidence in the cars.
"So am I, very," said Matilda. "It will not take more than an hour, will it, to go to Poughkeepsie?"
"Not that," said Norton. Then the very first thing will be, to go up to Smith's and get our breakfast."
"That's that restaurant?"
"Yes. A good one too."
"I never was in a restaurant in my life," said Matilda.
"We'll see how you like it, Pink; it's delightful that you have never seen anything."
"Why?"
"You have got so much to see. And I want to know what you will think of it all."
Matilda was almost too happy. So happy, that not a sunbeam, nor a ripple on the water, nor a cloud in the sky, but seemed to bring her more to be glad of. It was only that her joy met these things and glanced back. So Norton said. But Matilda thought it was something beside.
"Why Norton, I am glad of those things themselves," she insisted.
"Of the waves on the river?" said Norton.
"Yes, to be sure I am."
"Nonsense, Pink! What for?"
"I don't know what for," said Matilda. "They are so pretty. And they are so lively. And there is another thing, Norton," she said with a change of voice. "God made them."
"Do you like everything he has made?" said Norton.
"I think I do."
"Then you must like those poor people in the omnibus,