CHAPTER IX.
Anne and Letitia were to leave home in the afternoon of Monday; andMaria and Matilda went to school that morning as usual. But when thenoon hour came, Matilda called her sister into a corner of the emptiedschoolroom, and sat down with a face of business.
"What is the matter?" said Maria. "We must go home to dinner."
"I should like to speak to you here first."
"About what? Say it and be quick; for I am ever so hungry. Aunt Candycut my breakfast short this morning."
"I wanted to say to you that we had better take home our books."
"What for?" said Maria, with opening eyes.
"Because, Maria, mamma was talking to me last night about it. You knowthere will be no one at home now, after to-day, but you and me."
"Aunt Erminia and Clarissa?"
"Nobody to do anything, I mean."
"Can't they do anything? I don't know what you are talking of, Matilda;but I know I want my dinner."
"Who do you think will get dinner to-morrow?"
"Well--mother's sick of course; and Anne and Letty are going. I shouldthink Aunt Candy might."
"No, she won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because mother said so. She won't do anything."
"Then she'll have to get a girl to do things, I suppose."
"But Maria, that is just what mother wants she shouldn't do; becauseshe'd have to pay for it."
"Who would have to pay for it?"
"Mamma."
"Why would she?"
"She said so."
"I don't see why she would, I am sure. If Aunt Erminia hires a girl,_she'll_ pay for her."
"But that will come out of what Aunt Erminia pays to mamma; and whatAunt Erminia pays to mamma is what we have got to live upon."
"Who said so?"
"Mamma said so." Matilda answered with her lip trembling; for thebringing facts all down to hard detail was difficult to bear.
"Well, I _do_ think," exclaimed Maria, "if I had a sister sick and notable to help herself, I would not be so mean!"
Matilda sat still and cried and said nothing.
"Who _is_ going to do all the work then, Tilly?"
There would have been something comical, if it had not been sad, in theway the little girl looked up and said, "You and I."
"I guess we will!" said Maria, with opening eyes. "You and I! Take careof the house, and wash the dishes, and cook the dinner, and everything!You know we couldn't, Matilda; and what's more, _I_ know we won't."
"Yes, mamma wishes it. We must; and so we can, Maria."
"_I_ can't," said Maria, taking down her school cloak.
"But, Maria! we must. Mamma will be more sick if we do not; you heardwhat Aunt Candy said at breakfast, that she is fearfully nervous; andif she hears that there is a hired girl in the house, it will worry herdreadfully."
"It will be Aunt Candy's fault then," said Maria, fastening her cloak."I never heard of anybody so mean in all my life!--never."
"But that don't help anything, Maria. And you and I _must_ do whatmamma said. You know we shall have little enough to live on, as it is,and if you take the pay of a hired girl out of it, there will be solittle left."
"I've got my twenty-five dollars, that I can get summer dresses with; Iam glad I haven't spent it," said Maria. "Come, Tilly; I'm going home."
"But, Maria, you have not said what you ought to say yet."
"What ought I to say?"
"I will help and do my part. We can manage it. Come, Maria, say thatyou will."
"Your part," said Maria. "What do you suppose your part would come to?What can such a child as you do?"
"Maria, now is the time to show whether you are really one of the Bandof workers."
"I am, of course. I joined it."
"That would not make you one of them, if you don't do what theypromised to do."
"When did I ever promise to be Aunt Candy's servant girl?" said Maria,fiercely. "I should like to know."
"But 'we are the servants of Christ,'" said Matilda, softly, her eyesglistening through.
"What then?"
"We promised to try to do whatever would honour Him."
"I don't know what all this affair has to do with it," said Maria. "Yousay _we_ promised;--you didn't?"
"Yes, I did."
"You didn't join the Band?"
"Yes, I did."
"When?"
"A few days after you did."
"Why didn't you tell me? Did you tell Mr. Richmond?"
"Yes."
"I think it is mean, that you did not tell me."
"I am telling you now. But now, Maria, you know what you promised."
"I did not promise this sort of thing at all, Tilly."
"Yes, don't you know? 'we stand ready to do His will.' That's in thecovenant."
"But _this_ is not His will," insisted Maria. "This is Aunt Erminia'smeanness."
"But it certainly is His will that we should do what mamma says, andplease her; and this is the work He has given us to do."
Maria's answer this time was to sit down and cry for her part. Matildadid not join her, but stood by, patiently waiting. Maria cried andsobbed for several minutes; then she started up and set off homewardsat a furious rate. Matilda gathered together her books and followed hersister; trying to comfort herself with the thought that this _was_certainly the work given them to do, and that she would try and makethe best of it.
The dinner was sorrowful enough. Maria, indeed, ate it as ifremembering it was the last dinner for some time to come that she wouldfind ready prepared for her. But Anne and Letty were broken down withgrief; and Mrs. Candy's endeavours to comfort them were either not theright sort, or fell upon unready ears. Clarissa was composed as usual.
"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 havedinner eaten by stages; first one set coming, and then another. I amgoing 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 quantity?"
"Nobody ever told me I eat too much, before," said Maria.
"There are a great many things that you have never been told, Isuppose?" 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 hearyou speak so. Would you not like to have Issa, or any one, tell youthings that you would be the better for. You would not wish to remainjust 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 justnow--if I am sitting at the same table with you. And it hurts me tohave 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. "Iwill do that now, if you please. Letty, I will leave you to take careof these things, and I will finish the packing. We must be quick, too."
The farewell greetings with her aunt and cousin were soon spoken; andMaria and Matilda tore up-stairs after their sister, to pour out tearsand complaints together during the remaining moments of her being athome. 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, "untilmamma gets up again. Poor children! I am afraid she will be too muchfor you."
"But, Anne, did you think Aunt Candy was like that?" said Maria. "Shewasn't like t
hat at first."
"I guess she was. All she wanted was a chance. Now she's got it. Tryand bear it the best you can till mamma is well. She cannot be worriednow."
"Is mamma very sick, Anne?" Matilda ventured.
"N-o," said Anne, "but she might be, Tilly, if she was worried. Thedoctor says she is very nervous, and must be kept quiet. She has beenworrying so long, you see. So you must try and not do anything to frether."
The prospect was sad. When the omnibus came to take Anne and Letty tothe station, and when the last kisses and hugs were over, and theomnibus bounced away, carrying with it all they had at the moment, thetwo girls left at home felt forlorn enough. The only thing to be donewas to rush up-stairs to their room and cry their hearts out. And thatwas done thoroughly.
But by and by, Matilda's thoughts, in their very extreme need ofcomfort, began to take up the words again which she had once found sogood: "Cast thy burden upon the Lord; He shall sustain thee." She lefther sobbing, dried her eyes, sat down by the window, and found theplace in her Bible, that her eyes might have the comfort of seeing andreading 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 theBible!"
"Read, Maria."
"I have read them before," said the other, sullenly, after she hadglanced 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 saysjust, 'Cast thy burden'--it might be any burden; it does not signifywhat it is, Maria."
"Yes, it does; it is not for such little things," said Maria. "It isfor 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 somethingthat Maria could not question. Her Bible had a few references in themargin; consulting these, she presently found what she had need of; buta feeling of want of sympathy between them forbade her to show the newwords to her sister. Matilda pored over them with great rest of heart;gave thanks for them; and might have used with truth David'slanguage--"Thy words were found, and I did eat them." The words werethese:--
"Be careful for nothing; but in everything, by prayer and supplicationwith thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God. And thepeace of God that passeth understanding shall keep your hearts andminds through Christ Jesus."
Matilda's eyes were dry and her voice was clear, when she reminded hersister that it was time to get tea. Maria was accustomed to do thisfrequently, and made no objection now. So the two went down together.Passing the parlour door, however, it opened, and Mrs. Candy calledMatilda in.
"I want to speak a word to you, Tilly," she said. "Did you go out lastevening?"
"Yes; I did, aunt Erminia."
"You went to church?"
Matilda assented; but though she had bowed her head, it seemed to bemore erect than before.
"And I had told you not to go, had I not? You understood that?"
A silent assent was again all that the child gave.
"I am accustomed to be obeyed," said Mrs. Candy. "That is my way. Itmay not be your mother's way; but all the same, I am mistress herewhile she is sick; mistress over you as well as the rest. You must obeyme like all the rest. Will you?"
What was meant by "all the rest" Matilda marvelled, seeing that nobodyelse but Maria and her own daughter were left in the house. This timeshe 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 oncircumstances. She would obey, conditionally. But she would notcompromise her dignity by words about it. She was silent.
"I must be obeyed," Mrs. Candy went on, with mild tones, although adispleased face. "If not willingly, then unwillingly. I shall punishyou, Matilda, if you disobey me; and so severely that you will find itbest not to do it again. But I should be very sorry to have you driveme to such disagreeable doings. We should both be sorry together. It ismuch best not to let things come to such extremity."
Matilda coloured high, but except that and the slight gesture of herhead, she yet gave no reply.
"That is enough upon that subject," the lady went on. "Only, I shouldbe glad to have you tell me that you will try to please me."
"I wish to please everybody--as far as I can," Matilda said at last.
"Then you will please me?"
"I hope so."
"She hopes so, Issa," said Mrs. Candy, turning her head round towardswhere her daughter sat.
"American children, mamma," was Clarissa's comment.
"There is another thing, Matilda," Mrs. Candy resumed after a slightpause. "Your mother has told me that Maria is competent to do the workof the house until she gets well. Is she? and will Maria, do you think,try to please me as much as you do?"
"Yes, ma'am. I think she can--she and I. We will do it," Matildaanswered more readily.
"She and you! What can you do?"
"I can help a little."
"Well then, that is settled; and I need not look out for a girl?"
"Oh no, aunt Candy. She and I can do it."
"But mind, I must have things in order, and well done. It is mysister's choice, that Maria should do it. But it is not mine unless Ican have everything in good order. You may tell Maria so, and let herunderstand what it is she is undertaking. I am to have no dusty stairs,and no half-set tables. If she wants instruction in anything, I amwilling to give it; but I cannot have disorder. Now you may go and tellher; and tell her to have tea ready in half an hour."
"What did she want of you?" Maria asked, when Matilda rejoined herdown-stairs.
"She wanted to talk to me about my going out last evening."
"Oh! was she in a great fuss about it?"
"And Maria, she wants tea to be ready in half an hour."
"I'll have it ready sooner than that," said Maria, bustling about.
"But you must not. She wants it in half an hour; you must not have itready before."
"Why not?" said Maria, stopping short.
"Why, she wants it _then_. She has a right to have tea when she likes."
But Matilda sighed as she spoke, for her aunt's likings were becoming aheavy burden to her, in the present and in the future. The two girlswent gently round, setting the table, cutting the bread, putting outthe sweetmeat, getting the teapot ready for the tea; then they stoodtogether over the stove, waiting for the time to make it.
"There's one comfort," Matilda said with another sigh;--"we can do itall for Christ."
"What?" said Maria, starting.
"It is work He has given us to do, you know, Maria; and we havepromised to do everything we can to please Him. So we can do this toplease Him."
"I don't see how," said Maria. "_This_ isn't Band work;--do you thinkit is?"
"It isn't Sunday-School work; but, Maria, you know, 'we are theservants of Christ.' Now He has given us this work to do."
"That's just talking nonsense," said Maria. "There is no religion inpots and kettles."
Matilda had to think her way out of that statement.
"Maria, in the covenant, you know, we say 'we stand ready to do Hiswill;' and you _know_ it is His will that we should have these thingsto do."
"I don't!" said Maria; "that's a fact."
"Then how comes it that we have them?"
"Just because mamma is sick, and Aunt Erminia is too mean to live!"
"You should not speak so," said Matilda. "How comes mamma to be sick?and how comes it that we have got no money to hire a girl?"
"Because that man in New York was
wicked, and ran away with mamma'smoney."
"Maria," said Matilda, solemnly, "I don't see what you meant by joiningthe Band."
"I meant more than you did!" said Maria, flaming out. "Such children asyou are too young to join it."
"We are not too young to be Christians."
"You are too young to join the Church and be baptized."
"Why?" said Matilda.
"Oh, you are too young to _understand_. Anybody that knows will tellyou so. And if you are not fit to be baptized and join the Church, youare not fit to join the Band. Now I can make the tea."
Matilda looked hard at the teapot, as it stood on the stove while thetea was brewing; but she let her sister alone after that. When the mealwas over, and the dishes washed and everything done, she and Maria wentup to their own room, and Maria at once went to bed. Her little sisteropened her Bible, and read, over and over, the words that had comfortedher. They were words from God; promises and commands straight fromheaven. Matilda took them so, and studied earnestly how she might dowhat they bade her. "Cast her burden on the Lord"--how was she to dothat? Clearly, she was not to keep it on her own heart, she thought;she must trust that the Lord would take care of anything put into Hishands. The words were very good. And the other words? "Be careful fornothing"--that was the same thing differently expressed; and Matildafelt very glad it had been written for her in both places and in bothways; and that she was ordered "in everything" to "make her requestsknown to God." She might not have dared, perhaps, in some littletroubles that only concerned a child and were not important to anybodyelse; but now there could be no doubt--she might, and she must. She wasvery glad. But, "with thanksgiving?"--how could that be always? Now,for instance? Things were more disagreeable and sorrowful than in allher life she had ever known them; "give thanks"? must she? _now?_ Andhow could she? Matilda studied over it a good while. Finally took topraying over it. Asked to be taught how she could give thanks when shewas sorry. And getting quite tired, at last went to bed, where Mariawas already fast asleep.
There is no denying that Matilda was sorry to wake up the next morning.But awake she found herself, and broad awake too; and the light outsidethe window admonished her she had no time then to lie and think. Sheroused Maria immediately, and herself began dressing without a moment'sdelay.
"Oh, what's the hurry!" said Maria, yawning and stretching herself."I'm sleepy."
"But it isn't early, Maria."
"Well; I don't want it to be early."
"Yes, you do, Maria; you forget. We have a great deal on our hands.Make haste, please, and get up. Do, Maria!"
"What have we got to do so much?" said Maria, with yawn the second.
"Everything. You are so sleepy, you have forgotten."
"Yes. I have forgotten," said Maria, closing her eyes.
"O Maria, please do get up! I'm almost dressed; and I can't do thewhole, you know. Won't you get up?"
"What's the matter, Tilly?" said her sister, rolling over, and openingher eyes quietly at Matilda.
"I am going down, Maria, in two minutes; and I cannot do everything,you know."
"Clarissa'll help."
"If you expect that, Maria, you will be disappointed. I wish you wouldcome right down and make the fire."
Maria lay still. Matilda finished her dressing, and then knelt down bythe window.
The burden upon her seemed rather heavy, and she went to her onlysource of help. Maria lay and looked at the little kneeling figure, sostill there by the window; glanced at the growing light outside thewindow, then at her scattered articles of clothing, lying where she hadthrown them or dropped them last night; and at last rolled herself outof bed and was dressing in earnest when Matilda rose up to godown-stairs.
"Oh now, you'll soon be ready!" she exclaimed. "Make haste, Maria; andcome down to the kitchen. The fire is the first thing."
Then the little feet went with a light tread down the stairs, that shemight disturb nobody, and paused in the hall. The light struggling inthrough the fanlights over the door; the air close; a smell of kerosenein the parlour; chairs and table in a state of disarrangement; thelitter of Clarissa's work on the carpet; the parlour stove cold. LittleMatilda wished to herself that some other hands were there, not hers,to do all that must be done. But clearly Maria would never get throughwith it. She stood looking a minute; then plunged into the work. Sheopened the shutters and the curtains, and threw up the windows. Thenpicked up the litter. Then she saw that the services of a broom wereneeded; and Matilda fetched the broom, and brushed out the parlour andthe hall. It tired her arms; she was not used to it. Dusting thefurniture was more in her line; and then Matilda came to the conclusionthat if a fire was to be kindled in time this morning, it must be doneby herself; Maria would be fully occupied in the kitchen. Sodown-stairs she went for billets of wood for kindling. There was Maria,in trouble.
"This stove won't draw, Tilly."
"What is the matter?"
"Why _that_. It won't draw. It just smokes."
"It always does draw, Maria."
"Well, it won't to-day."
"Did you put kindling enough in?"
"There's nothing but kindling!--and smoke."
"Why, you've got the damper turned," said Matilda, coming up to look;"see, that's the matter. It won't light with the damper turned."
"Stupid!" Maria muttered; and Matilda went off to make her own fire.Happily that did not smoke. The parlour and hall were all in niceorder; the books put in place, and everything ready for the comfort ofpeople when they should come to enjoy it; and Matilda went to join hersister in the kitchen. The fire was going there too, and the kitchenwarm, and Maria stood with her hands folded, in front of the stove.
"I don't know what to get for breakfast," she said.
"Is the other room ready?"
"I set the table," said Maria; "but what is to go on it, I don't know."
Matilda went in to look at the state of things; presently called hersister.
"Maria, you didn't sweep the carpet."
"No. Of course I didn't. Rooms don't want to be swept every day."
"This one does. Look at the muss under the table."
"Only some crumbs," said Maria.
"And a bone. Letty was in a hurry yesterday, I guess. Aunt Candy won'tlike it, Maria; it won't do."
"I don't care whether she likes it."
"But don't you care whether she scolds? because I do. And the room isnot nice, Maria. Mother wouldn't have it so."
"Well, you may sweep it if you like."
"I cannot. I am tired. You must make it nice, Maria, won't you? andI'll see about the breakfast."
"The table's all set!" Maria remonstrated.
"It won't take long to do it over, Maria. But what have we got forbreakfast?"
"Nothing--that I know."
"Did you look in the cellar?"
"No."
"Why, where _did_ you look?" said Matilda, laughing. "Come; let us godown and see what is there."
In the large, clean, light cellar there were hanging shelves whichserved the purposes of a larder. The girls peered into the variousstores collected on them.
"Here's a dish of cold potatoes," said Maria.
"That will do for one thing," said Matilda.
"Cold?"
"Why, no! fried, Maria."
"I can't fry potatoes."
"Why, yes, you can, Maria; you have seen mamma do it hundreds of times."
"Here's the cold beefsteak that was left yesterday."
"Cold beefsteak isn't good," said Matilda.
"Can't we warm it?"
"How?"
"I don't know; might put it in the oven; it would get hot there.There's a good oven."
"I don't think mamma ever warms cold beefsteak," said Matilda, lookingpuzzled.
"What does she do with it? she don't throw it away. How do you know shedoesn't warm it? you wouldn't know, when you saw it on the table,whether it was just fresh cooked, or only warmed up. How could youtell?"
> "Well," said Matilda, dubiously, "you can try. I wish I could asksomebody."
"I shall not ask anybody up-stairs," said Maria. "Come--you take thepotatoes and I will carry the beefsteak. Then we will make 'the coffeeand have breakfast. I'm as hungry as I can be."
"So am I," said Matilda. And she sighed a little, for she was tired aswell as hungry. Maria set the dish of beefsteak in the oven to get hot,and Matilda made the coffee. She knew quite well how to do that. Thenshe came to the table where Maria was preparing the potatoes to fry.Maria's knife was going chop, chop, very fast.
"O Maria! you should have peeled them," Matilda exclaimed, in dismay.
"Peeled!" said Maria, stopping short.
"Certainly. Why, you knew that, Maria. Potatoe parings are not good toeat."
"It takes ages to peel such little potatoes," said Maria.
"But you cannot eat them without being peeled," said Matilda.
"Yes, you can; it won't make any difference. I will fry them so brown,nobody will know whether they have skins on or not."
Matilda doubted very much the feasibility of this plan; but she leftMaria and went off to make sure that the fires in the other rooms wereburning right and everything in proper trim. Then she sat down in arocking-chair in the eating-room to rest; wishing very earnestly thatthere was somebody to help who knew more about business than either sheor Maria. How were they to get along? And she had promised her mother.And yet more, Matilda felt sure that just this work had been given toher and Maria to do by the Lord himself. Therefore they could do it forHim. Therefore, all the more, Matilda wanted to do it in the verynicest and best way possible. She wished she had attended when she hadseen her mother cooking different things; now she might have knownexactly how to manage. And that reminded her, Maria's beef and potatoesmust be done. She ran into the kitchen.
"There!" said Maria. "Can you see the skins now?"
"They are brown enough," said Matilda. "But, Maria, they'll be veryhard!"
"Never you mind!" said Maria, complacently.
"Have you looked at your beefsteak?"
"No; but it must be hot before now."
Maria opened the oven door; and then, with an exclamation, seized acloth and drew out the dish of meat. The dish took their attentionfirst. It was as brown as Maria's potatoes. It had gone into the ovenwhite.
"It is spoiled," said Matilda.
"Who would have thought the oven was so hot!" said Maria. "Won't itcome all right with washing?"
"You might as well wash your beefsteak," said Matilda, turning away.
If the dish had gone in white, the meat had also gone in juicy; and ifthe one was brown the other was a chip.
"This will not do for breakfast," said Maria, lugubriously.
"It is like your potatoes," said Matilda, with the ineffable littleturn of her head.
"Don't, Matilda! What shall we do? the coffee is ready."
"We shall have a brown breakfast," said Matilda. "The coffee will bethe lightest coloured thing on the table." And the two girls relievedthemselves with laughing.
"But, Matilda! what shall we _do?_ We must have something to eat."
"We can boil some eggs," said Matilda. "Aunt Erminia likes eggs; andthe coffee will be good, and the bread. And the potatoes will do tolook at."
So it was arranged; and the bell was rung for breakfast only fiveminutes after the time. And all was in order.
Even Mrs. Candy's good eyes found no fault. And breakfast went forwardbetter than Matilda had dared to hope.
"You have done your potatoes too much, Maria," Mrs. Candy remarked.
"Yes, ma'am," Maria said, meekly.
"They want no more but a light colouring. And they should be cutthinner. These are so hard you can't eat them. And, Maria, in future Iwill tell you what to get for breakfast. I did not know when you wentto bed last night, or I should have told you then. You are not oldenough to arrange things. Now there was some beef left from dinneryesterday, that would have made a nice hash."
Maria ate bread and butter, and spoke not.
"It will keep very well, and you can make it into hash for to-morrowmorning. Chop it as fine as you can, and twice as much potato; and warmit with a little butter and milk and pepper and salt, till it is niceand hot; and poach a few eggs, to lay round it. Can you poach eggs,Maria?"
"Yes, ma'am. But there is no beef, Aunt Erminia."
"No beef? You are mistaken. There was a large piece that we did not eatyesterday."
"There is none now," said Maria.
"It must be down-stairs in the cellar."
"I am sure it is not, aunt Erminia. I have been poking into everycorner there; and there is no beef, I know."
"Maria, that is a very inelegant way of speaking. Where did you get it?"
"I don't know, ma'am, I'm sure. Out of the truth, I suppose. That'swhat I _did_."
"It is a very inelegant way of doing, as well as of speaking. _Poking_into every thing! What did you poke? your finger? or your hand?"
"My nose, I suppose," said Maria, hardily.
"I think I need not tell you that _that_ is a very vulgar expression,"said Mrs. Candy, with a lofty air; while Clarissa's shoulders gave alittle shrug, as much as to say her mother was wasting time. "Don't youknow any better, Maria?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then I hope you will speak properly next time."
"One gets so tired of speaking properly!" said Maria.
"_You?_" said Clarissa, with a gentle intonation.
"I don't care!" said Maria, desperately. "People are as they arebrought up. My mother don't care for such fidgety notions. I speak toplease her, and that is enough."
"No, Maria, it is not enough," resumed Mrs. Candy. "Your mother lovesyou, and so she is willing to overlook little things in you that she_can_ overlook because you are her child; but when you are grown up,you would wish to be liked by other nice people, wouldn't you? peopleof education, and taste, and elegant habits; and they do not like tohave anything to do with people who 'poke their noses' into things, orwho say that they do."
"I'll keep in the kitchen then," said Maria, hastily.
The breakfast may be said to have ended here; for though a few moremouthfuls were eaten, no more words were said. Mrs. Candy and herdaughter left the room and went up-stairs. Maria and Matilda began thework of clearing the table.
"Ain't she too much!" Maria exclaimed.
"But, Maria," said her little sister, "I wish you _wouldn't_ say suchthings."
"If I am going to be a kitchen maid," said Maria, "I may as well talkkitchen maid."
"Oh, I don't think so, Maria!"
"I don't care!" said Maria. "I would rather vex aunt Candy than not;and she _was_ vexed this morning. She kept it in pretty well; but shewas vexed."
"But, Maria, that isn't right, is it?"
"Nothing is right," said Maria; "and nothing is going to be, I guess,while they are here."
"Then think, what would mamma do if they went away?"
"I wish I could go away, then!" said Maria, beginning to cry. "I can'tbear to live so! 'Why do you do so,' and 'why do you do _so;_' andClarissa sitting by with that little smile on her mouth, and lifting upher eyes to look at you--it just makes me _mad_. There! It is a pityAunt Candy wasn't here to be shocked at American children."
"But, Maria," said Matilda with her eyes swimming too, "you know theLord Jesus has given us this work."
"No, I don't!" said Maria; "and what if He did?"
"Why, then, it would please Him--you know, Maria, it would pleaseHim--to have us do it just nicely and beautifully, and not like kitchenmaids, but like His children. You know we said we were ready to do anywork that he would give us."
"I didn't," said Maria, half crying, half pouting. "I didn't promise todo _this_ sort of thing."
"But we mustn't choose," said Matilda.
"But we _did_ choose," said Maria. "I said what I would do, and otherpeople said what they would do; and nobody said anything about washingdishes and pe
eling potatoes. We were not talking of _that_."
"The covenant says, 'we stand ready to do His will.' Don't you know?"
"I believe you know that covenant by heart," said Maria. "I don't. AndI don't care. Matilda, I wish you would run down cellar with thebutter, and the cream, and the bread--will you?"
Matilda did not run, but she made journey after journey down the cellarstairs, with feet that grew weary; and then she dried the china whileher sister washed it. Then they brushed up the kitchen and made up thefires. Then Maria seated herself on the kitchen table and looked atMatilda.
"I'm tired now, Tilly."
"So am I."
"Is there anything else to be done?"
"Why, there is the dinner, Maria."
"It isn't near dinner time. It is only ten o'clock."
"How long will it take the potatoes to boil?"
"Oh, not long. It is not time to put them on for a great while."
"But they are not ready, are they?"
"No."
"And what else, Maria?"
Here came a call from the stair head. Maria went to the foot of thestairs to hear what the business was, and came back with her moodnowise sweetened; to judge by the way she went about; filled an ironpot with water and set it on the stove, and dashed things roundgenerally. Matilda looked on without saying a word.
"I've got my day's work cut out for me now," said Maria at last."There's that leg of mutton to boil, and turnips to be mashed; besidesthe potatoes. And the turnips have got to be peeled. Come and help me,Tilly, or I shall never get through. Won't you?"