ooped and kissed the child, evidently because she
was thus asked.

"Grandmamma, she is to have half my place in your heart," said Norton.

"Will you give it up to her?" Mrs. Lloyd asked.

"It is just as good as my having it," said Norton.

Perhaps he would have presented Matilda then to his aunt, but that lady
had turned off into the drawing room; and the travellers mounted the
stairs with Mrs. Lloyd to see their apartments and to prepare for
dinner. The ladies went into a large room opening from the upper hall;
Norton and the girl Matilda had noticed went bounding up the second
flight of stairs.

Mrs. Laval lay down on a couch, and said she would have a cup of tea
before dressing. While she took it, Mrs. Lloyd sat beside her and the
two talked very busily. Matilda, left to herself, put off her coat and
hat and sat down at the other side of the fire, for a fire was burning
in the grate, and pondered the situation. The house was like a palace
in a fairy tale, surely, she thought. Her eyes were dazzled with the
glimmer from gildings and mirrors and lamps hanging from the ceilings.
Her foot fell on soft carpets. The hangings of the bed were of blue
silk. The couches were covered with rich worsted work. Pictures made
the walls dainty. Beautiful things which she could not examine yet,
stood on the various tables. It immediately pressed on Matilda's
attention, that to be of a piece with all this elegance and not out of
place among the people inhabiting there, she had need to be very
elegant herself. The best dress in her whole little stock was the brown
merino she had worn to travel in. She had thought it very elegant in
Shadywalk; but how did it look alongside of Miss Judy's blue silk?
Matilda had nothing better, at any rate. She glanced down at her boots,
to see how they would do. They were her best Sunday boots. They were
neat, she concluded. They wanted a little brushing from dust; then they
would do pretty well. But she did not think they were elegant. The
soles of them were rather too thick for that. At this point her
attention was drawn to what was saying at the other side of the fire.

"Do the children dine with us?"

"To-day."

"Not in ordinary?"

"It is bad for the boys; puts them out. One o'clock suits them a great
deal better. And six is a poor hour for children always. And with
company of course it is impossible; and that makes irregularity; and
_that_ is bad."

"I suppose it is best so," said Mrs. L