ty dollars for
Christmas purchases; how was all _that_ to be spent "in the name of the
Lord Jesus"? She could not think of it just now, except by snatches;
she kept remembering it, and trying to reckon how many people she had
to buy things for. New York certainly was a very puzzling place to live
in.

The other children seemed to be as full of business as she, and much
less quiet about it. So Matilda did not find a chance to speak to
Norton in private, which in her trouble she would have done if she
could. It was all bustle and discussion till they went to get ready for
their walk. Matilda laced on her new boots, Judy won't have any
occasion to look scornfully at those, she said to herself. They are as
nice as they can be.

A little to her surprise, when she got downstairs she found Miss Judy
dressed in a black silk pelisse. What was the difference between silk
and satin, Matilda wondered? Judy caught her glance perhaps, for with a
twinkle of her own sharp black eyes she burst out into a peal of
laughter.

"What is the matter now?" her brother asked.

"Things become people so differently," said Judith saucily. "Something
you couldn't understand, Davy; men don't, nor boys neither. Matilda and
I understand."

"Matilda don't understand much that you do," said Norton.

"An' that's thrue for ye!" said Judy with a strong Irish accent.
"Faith, the craythur, she's just innicent!"

"Hush, Judy," said her brother laughing; and "You're a case, Judy,"
said Norton; and so they went out at the front door. Matilda's
opportunity was gone; she had thought to speak out to them all while
they were in the hall; and now she was a little too vexed to speak, for
a while. However, it was a gay walk down the avenue and then down
Broadway. The day was very fine and all the world seemed to be out and
astir. Norton was talking very busily too, and the excitement of
business soon chased away the momentary excitement of displeasure. In
the midst of all this, every few blocks they came to street sweepers. A
little girl or a little boy, grey and ragged, keeping a clean crossing
and holding out eager little hands for the pennies they did not get.
David and Norton and Judith did not so much as look at the children,
passing the outstretched hands as if unseen; and Matilda had no
pennies; nothing but her twenty dollar bill. Every few blocks there was
one of these poor, grey dusty figures and one of those little empty
hands. Matilda might have fo