Opportunities Part 33

"What's the matter with Matilda to-day?" Maria had inquired.

"Only a little impatience of her duties," Mrs. Candy had replied, quietly.

"I don't see what duties she can have, to keep her shut up in your room," said Maria, hotly.

"No. My dear, there are a great many things you cannot see yet. And where you cannot see, it is rather wise not to give opinion."

"I have a right to an opinion about my sister, though," said Maria; "and she isn't getting any good with all your shutting her up."

"There I think differently from you, Maria. Matilda can darn stockings now in a way I am not ashamed of; much better than you can, I a.s.sure you; and she is going on to learn lace-mending beautifully."

"What use is that to her? I should like to know!" said Maria, scornfully.

"It may be some use to me," said Mrs. Candy.

"You are doing Matilda a great deal of mischief," said Maria. "She is not the same child she was."

"No, she is not," said Clarissa. "She is a great deal better behaved."

"Yes. I have taught her to know her place," said Mrs. Candy. "It is a pity that is what _you_ never were taught, Maria. You are too old now.

I couldn't take a switch to you, and that's the only way."

"You never did to her?" exclaimed Maria, blazing with fury.

"I never did," said Mrs. Candy; "but Matilda knows I would, at a moment's notice, if necessity came. I may do it yet, but I rather think I shall have no occasion."

"You are a horrid woman!" exclaimed Maria. "_Of use to you_. Yes, that is just what you care about. You want Matilda for a little drudge, to mend your stockings, I suppose, and darn your lace. You are too mean to live. If mamma had only known----"

When people get so far as this in a burst of helpless rage, the next thing usually is tears; and Maria broke down accordingly. Mrs. Candy and Clarissa finished their dinner and went away.

"One cannot stand much of this sort of thing, mamma," said Clarissa, as they mounted the stairs.

"I am not going to stand much of it," replied Mrs. Candy. "I am rather glad of this outburst. It gives me the opportunity I wanted."

"What will you do, mamma?"

"I have been thinking for some time what I would do. This just gives me the opening. I will get rid of this girl."

"And what will you do with her?"

"Let her go learn her sisters' trade; or some other, if she likes. We do not suit each other, and I am tired of it."

"Yes, and mamma, though it is so good of you to keep her in this way, do you know you get no thanks for it?"

"Oh, I never looked for thanks," said Mrs. Candy.

"No, but I mean, people do not give you credit for it, mamma. I know they do not."

"Like enough. Well--I won't ask them."

"And you will keep the little one?"

"She's manageable. Yes, I will keep her. I like the child. She's pretty, and clever too; and she'll be very nice when she grows up. I'll keep her. I shall want her some day, when you get married."

"Besides, I suppose people would say ill-natured things if you did not keep one of them," said Clarissa. "Matilda has a temper; but she minds you, mamma."

"I have got her in hand pretty well," said Mrs. Candy, as she unlocked the door. "Well, is that lace done? Not? Let me see. You have not done a dozen st.i.tches while I have been away!"

"I'll do it now," said Matilda; so quietly and with a voice so cleared of all roughness or ill-temper, that Mrs. Candy after looking at her, pa.s.sed on to her seat and said nothing further.

But it cost Matilda some hours yet of patient diligence, before her task was ended. Then she brought it to her aunt for approval. No fault was found with it, and she was free to go down-stairs to Maria. Maria had got out of the weeping mood into dry fury again.

"I am not going to stand it!" she said.

"What are you not going to stand?"

"This way of going on. I will not put up with it any longer."

"What can you do, Maria?"

"I'll go away. I will! I declare I will. I will not be Aunt Candy's cook and waiter any longer. I am not going to stand it. She may get her own dinners--or get a girl."

"But where can we go, Maria? It is no use to talk so. We haven't any place."

"She may keep you," said Maria; "but I'll go. I can't stand it. I don't know where. Somewhere! Anywhere would be better than this."

"I couldn't live here without you, Maria, you know," said the little one. "Don't talk so. What has made you angry to-day?"

"Why, the way you are served; and the way I am talked to."

"Me?" said Matilda. "Never mind. You and I have a good deal of time for ourselves, Maria. I shall get along, and I shall not mind so much.

Don't you mind."

"I won't stay and see it," said Maria, stoutly; "nor I won't stay and bear my part of it."

"I quite agree with you," said Mrs. Candy, walking in from the other room. The girls were in the kitchen. "I quite agree with you, Maria. It is as unpleasant for me as it is for you, and you are doing no good to Matilda. It will be much better for us to separate. I have been thinking so for some time. You may choose what you will do, and I will make arrangements. Either you may join Anne and Let.i.tia in town, and learn the business they are learning; or if you like any other business better, I will try and arrange it for you. Let me know to-morrow morning what you decide upon, and I will finish up the matter at once.

I am quite tired of the present state of things, as you say."

Mrs. Candy finished her harangue and swept out by the other door.

n.o.body had interrupted her, and when she was gone n.o.body spoke. The two girls looked at each other, Maria with a face of consternation, Matilda white with despair. You might have heard a pin fall in the kitchen, while Mrs. Candy's footsteps sounded in the hall and going up stair after stair. Then Matilda's head went down on the table. She had no words.

"The old horrid old thing!" was Maria's exclamation. "She came and listened in the other room!"

But Matilda did not answer, and there was no relief in the explanation.

"I won't go!" said Maria next. "I won't go, unless I'm a mind to. It's my mother's house, not hers."

Matilda had no heart to answer such vain words. She knew they were vain.