the deceased. Miss Matey slowly shook her head over each virtue
as it was named, and attributed to her sister; at last she could not
restrain the tears which had long been silently flowing, but hid her face
behind her handkerchief, and sobbed aloud.

"Dear Miss Matey!" said I, taking her hand--for indeed I did know in what
way to tell her how sorry I was for her, left deserted in the world. She
put down her handkerchief, and said,

"My dear, I'd rather you did not call me Matey. _She_ did not like it; but
I did many a thing she did not like, I'm afraid--and now she's gone! If you
please, my love, will you call me Matilda?"

I promised faithfully, and began to practice the new name with Miss Pole
that very day; and, by degrees, Miss Matilda's feelings on the subject
were known through Cranford, and the appellation of Matey was dropped by
all, except a very old woman who had been nurse in the rector's family,
and had persevered through many long years, in calling the Miss Jenkynses
"the girls;" she said "Matey," to the day of her death.

My visit to Miss Pole was very quiet. Miss Jenkyns had so long taken the
lead in Cranford, that, now she was gone, they hardly knew how to give a
party. The Honorable Mrs. Jamieson, to whom Miss Jenkyns herself had
always yielded the post of honor, was fat and inert and very much at the
mercy of her old servants. If they chose her to give a party, they
reminded her of the necessity for so doing; if not, she let it alone.
There was all the more time for me to hear old-world stories from Miss
Pole, while she sat knitting, and I making my father's shirts. I always
took a quantity of plain sewing to Cranford; for, as we did not read much,
or walk much, I found it a capital time to get through my work. One of
Miss Pole's stories related to the love affair I am coming to; gradually,
not in a hurry, for we are never in a hurry at Cranford.

Presently, the time arrived, when I was to remove to Miss Matilda's house.
I found her timid and anxious about the arrangements for my comfort. Many
a time, while I was unpacking, did she come backward and forward to stir
the fire, which burned all the worse for being so frequently poked.

"Have you drawers enough, dear?" asked she. "I don't know exactly how my
sister used to arrange them. She had capital methods. I am sure she would
have trained a servant in a week to make a better fire than this, and
Fanny has been with me four months."

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