will deliver him in
time of trouble.'"

"Of course," said Mrs. Laval; "we _do_ consider the poor."

"Let the child go on," said Mrs. Lloyd. "I want to hear all she has to
bring."

Matilda went on with Job's declaration.

"'If I have withheld the poor from their desire, or have caused the
eyes of the widow to fail; or have eaten my morsel myself alone, and
the fatherless hath not eaten thereof; (for from my youth he was
brought up with me, as with a father, and I have guided her from my
mother's womb;) if I have seen any perish for lack of clothing, or any
poor without covering; if his loins have not blessed me, and if he were
not warmed with the fleece of my sheep; if I have lifted up my hand
against the fatherless, when I saw my help in the gate: then let mine
arm fall from my shoulder blade, and mine arm be broken from the bone.'"

"Who said that?" demanded Mrs. Bartholomew.

"Job."

"I don't see what he has to do with us," said the lady, moving her
rosetted slipper impatiently, and so making a soft little rustle with
the lilac ruffles of her silk skirt.

"The old fellow had no business to swear, anyhow," said Norton.

"Swear!" said Judy.

"Something very like it," said Norton.

"Go on, Matilda," said Mrs. Lloyd,--"if you have anything more."

"Yes, grandmamma."

"What is David trying to prove?" asked Mrs. Laval.

"We are only trying to find out what the word of the Lord would make us
do, aunt Zara."

The two younger ladies looked annoyed; however silence was restored,
and Matilda began again.

"'He that despiseth his neighbour sinneth; but he that hath mercy on
the poor, happy is he.'"

"Do we despise anybody?" Mrs. Bartholomew asked. No one answered at
first.

"_I_ do," said Judy. "Just two or three."

"'He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord; and that which
he hath given will he pay him again.'"

"You see," said David, "the Lord reckons it his own affair. These are
Messiah's poor people; we are his stewards."

"How much are you going to give them, on that principle?" his mother
inquired.

"I don't know, mamma."

"But speak!" she said impatiently. "You _do_ know what you mean to do;
you have it all mapped out already in your head, I know."

"I don't know how much I shall give, mamma. Whatever I think they want
more than I do."

"You might wear homespun, and eat bread and water, at that rate."

"Mamma," said Judy, "we are very wicked to wear silk dresses. And just