ne?"

"They have gone ahead, sliding on the ice."

"And you do not practise sliding?"

"I am always afraid I shall fall down."

"The best way is not to be afraid; and then you don't fall down. See;
no! hold fast. I shall not let you slip!"

And the gentleman and Matilda slid along the street for half a block.

"How do you like that?"

"Very well, Mr. Richmond, with you holding me."

"It doesn't give you courage, eh? Well, we will walk on soberly
together. I didn't see you stand when Maria did last night?"

"Mr. Richmond, I did not know just what it all meant; and so I sat
still."

"You did not know just what it all meant?"

"No, sir."

"Then you were perfectly right to sit still. But that means that I did
not speak so that you could understand me? Was it so?"

"I did not understand----" said Matilda.

"It comes to that, I suppose. It is my fault. Well, I shall remember
and be very careful what I say the next time. I will speak so that you
will understand. But in that case, I want you to do one thing for me,
Tilly; will you?"

"If I can, Mr. Richmond."

"Do you think I would ask something you could not do?"

Matilda looked up to the blue eyes again; they were fastened upon her
gravely, and she hesitated.

"Mr. Richmond--I don't know. You might."

"I hope not," he said, smiling. "I will try not. You won't promise me?"

"If I can I will, Mr. Richmond."

"I am only going to ask you, when you hear what I have to say next
time, if you understand it, will you do what you think you ought to do?"

There fell a silence upon that. Mr. Richmond's firm step on the icy
ground and Matilda's light footfall passed by house after house, and
still the little one's tongue seemed to be tied. They turned the
corner, and went their way along Matilda's own street, where the light
of afternoon was now fading, and the western sky was throwing a
reflection of its own. Past the butcher's shop, and the post-office,
and house after house; and still Matilda was silent, and her conductor
did not speak, until they stopped before the little gate leading to the
house, which was placed somewhat back from the road. At the gate Mr.
Richmond stood still.

"What about my question, Matilda?" he said, without loosing his hold of
the little hand which had rested so willingly in his all the way.

"Aren't you coming in, Mr. Richmond?"

"Not to-night. What about my question?"

"Mr. Richmond," said the child, slowly,--"I do not alwa