The conclave broke up, having reached a termination of general
dissatisfaction common to such conclaves. Maria went to bed grumbling.
Matilda was as usual silent.

The next day, however, found all the family as bright as itself. It was
a cold day in January; snow on the ground; a clear, sharp sunshine
glittering from white roofs and fence tops and the banks of snow heaped
against the fences, and shining on twigs and branches of the bare
trees; coming into houses with its cheery and keen look at everything
it found, as if bidding the dark sides of things, and the dusty
corners, to change their characters and be light and fair. In the
basement the family gathered for breakfast in happy mood, ready to be
pleased with each other; so pleasure was the order of the day. Pleasure
had a good deal to feed on, too; for after the long breakfast was over
and the conversation had adjourned to the parlour, there came the
bestowing of presents which Clarissa had brought for her friends. And
they were so many and so satisfactory, that the criticisms of the past
night were certainly for the present forgotten; Letitia forgave her
cousin her daintiness, and Maria overlooked the gold watch. Matilda as
usual said little, beyond the civil, needful words, which that little
girl always spoke gracefully.

"You are a character, my dear, I see," her aunt observed, drawing
Matilda to her side caressingly.

"What is that, Aunt Candy?"

"Well, I don't know, my dear," her aunt answered, laughing; "you put me
to define and prove my words, and you bring me into difficulty. I
think, however, I shall be safe in saying, that a 'character' is a
person who has his own thoughts."

"But doesn't everybody?"

"Have his own thoughts? No, my dear; the majority have the thoughts of
other people."

"How can they, Aunt Candy?"

"Just by not thinking for themselves. It saves a great deal of trouble."

"But we all think for ourselves," said Matilda.

"Do we? Reflect a little. Don't _some_ of you think like other people?
about ways of doing, and acting, and dressing, for instance?"

"Oh yes. But, Aunt Candy, if people think for themselves, _must_ they
do unlike other people?"

"If they follow out their thoughts, they must, child."

"That suits Matilda then," said her sister Anne.

"Well, it is very nice for a family to have one character in it," said
Mrs. Candy.

"But, Aunt Candy, isn't Clarissa a character too?"

"I don't know, Tilly; I really h