ter, "what you made those promises
for the other night. I think you ought not to have got up at all; it
was the same as speaking; and if you do not mean to keep promises, you
should not make them."

"And what have you got to do with it?" said Maria in her turn. "You did
not stand up with the rest of us; you have no business to lecture other
people that are better than yourself. I am going to keep all the
promises I ever made; but I did not engage to go poking into Mrs. Dow's
wash kitchen, nor to be rude to Mrs. Laval; and I don't mean to do the
one or the other, I give you notice."

Matilda drew another of the long breaths that had come so many times
that afternoon, and presently remarked that she was glad the next
meeting of the Band would come in a few days.

Maria sharply inquired, "Why?"

"Because," said Matilda, "I hope Mr. Richmond will talk to us. I don't
understand about things."

"Of course you don't!" said Maria; "and if I were you I would not be so
wise, till I did 'understand.'"

Matilda got into bed, and Maria sat down to finish putting the braid on
her dress.

"Tilly, what are you going to get with your twenty-five dollars?"

"I don't know yet."

"I don't know whether I shall get a watch, or a dress, like Anne; or
something else. What would you?"

"I don't know."

"What _are_ you going to get with your money, Matilda?"

"I can't tell, Maria. I know what I am going to do with part; but I
don't know what I am going to do with the other part."

Maria could get no more from her.

Nothing new happened in the family before the evening came for what
Maria called the "Band meeting." Matilda went about between home and
the school extremely quiet and demure, and reserved rather more than
ordinary; but reserve was Matilda's way. Only Maria knew, and it
irritated her, that her little sister was careful to lock herself up
alone with her Bible, or rather with somebody else's Bible, for Matilda
had none of her own, for a good long time every morning and evening.
Maria thought sometimes she knew of her doing the same thing at the
noon recess. She said nothing, but she watched. And her watching made
her certain of it. Matilda unlocked her door and came out always with a
face of quiet seriousness and a spirit in armour. Maria could not
provoke her (and she tried); nor could any other temptations or
difficulties, that she could see, shake a certain steady gentleness
with which Matilda went through them. Ma