The House in Town Part 15

There was no getting to a smooth track for conversation with Maria.

Begin where she would, Matilda found herself directly plunged into something disagreeable. She gave it up and sat still, watching the blue ribband curling and twisting in Maria's fingers, and wondering sadly anew why some people should be rich and others poor.

"Aren't you going to take off your things and have dinner with me?"

said Maria, glancing up from her tr.i.m.m.i.n.g.

"I cannot do that very well; Norton is coming for me; and I do not know how soon."

"I don't suppose I could give you anything you would like to eat. Where will you get your dinner then?"

"Somewhere with Norton."

"Then you didn't bring it with you?"

"No."

Matilda did not feel that it would do to-day, to invite Maria to go with them to the restaurant. Norton had said nothing about it; and in Maria's peculiar mood Matilda could not tell how she might behave herself or what she would say. Perhaps Maria expected it, but she could not help that. The time was a silent one between the sisters, until the expected knock at the house door came. It was welcome, as well as expected. Matilda got up, feeling relieved if she felt also sorry; and after kissing Maria, she ran down-stairs and found herself in the fresh open air, taking long breaths, like a person that had been shut up in a close little stove-heated room. Which she had. And Norton's cheery voice was a delightful contrast to Maria's dismal tones. With busy steps, the two went up the street again to the restaurant. It was pretty full of people now; but Norton and Matilda found an unoccupied table in a corner. There a good dinner was brought them; and the two were soon equally happy in eating it and in discussing their garden arrangements. After they had dined, Norton ordered ice cream.

Matilda was as fond of ice cream as most children are who have very seldom seen it; but while she sat enjoying it she began to think again, why she should have it and Maria not have it? The question brought up the whole previous question that had been troubling her, about the rich and the poor, and quite gave a peculiar flavour to what she was tasting. She lost some of Norton's talk about bulbs.

"Norton," she exclaimed at last suddenly, "I have found it!"

"Found what?" said Norton. "Not a blue tulip?"

"No, not a blue tulip. I have found the answer to that question you asked me,--you know,--in the cars."

"I asked you five hundred and fifty questions in the cars," said Norton. "Which one?"

"Just before we got to Poughkeepsie, don't you remember?"

"No," said Norton laughing. "I don't, of course. What was it, Pink? The idea of remembering a question!"

"Don't you remember, you asked me if I didn't like poverty and poor people, for the same reason I liked other things?"

But here Norton's amus.e.m.e.nt became quite unmanageable.

"How _should_ you like poverty and poor people for the same reason you like other things, you delicious Pink?" he said. "How should you like those smoky coats in the omnibus, for the same reason that you like a white hyacinth or a red tulip?"

"That is what I was puzzling about, Norton; you don't recollect; and I could not make it out; because I knew I _didn't_ enjoy poverty and poor things, and you said I ought."

"Excuse me," said Norton. "I never said you ought, in the whole course of my rational existence since I have known you."

"No, no, Norton; but don't you know, I said I liked everything, waves of the river and all, because G.o.d made them? and you thought I ought to like poor people and things for the same reason."

"O, that!" said Norton. "Well, why don't you?"

"That is what I could not tell, Norton, and I was puzzling to find out; and now I know."

"Well, why?"

"Because, G.o.d did _not_ make them, Norton."

"Yes, he did. Doesn't he make everything?"

"In one way he does, to be sure; but then, Norton, if everybody did just right, there would be no poor people in the world; so it is not something that G.o.d has made, but something that comes because people won't do right."

"How?" said Norton.

"Why Norton, you know yourself. If everybody was good and loved everybody else as well as himself, the people who have more than enough would give to the people who are in want, and there would not be uncomfortable poor people anywhere. And that is what the Bible says.

'He that hath two coats,'--don't you remember?"

"No, I don't," said Norton. "Most people have two coats, that can afford it. What ought they to do?"

"The Bible says, 'let him impart to him that hath none.'"

"But suppose I cannot get another," said Norton; "and I want two for myself?"

"But somebody else has not _one?_ suppose."

"I can very easily suppose it," said Norton. "As soon as we get out of the cars in New York I'll shew you a case."

"Well, Norton, that is what I said. If everybody loved those poor people, don't you see, they would have coats, and whatever they need.

It is because you and I and other people _don't_ love them enough."

"I don't love another boy well enough to give him my overcoat," said Norton. "But coats wouldn't make a great many poor people respectable.

Those children in the omnibus this morning had coats on, comfortable enough; the trouble was, they were full of buckwheat cake smoke."

"Well if people are not clean, that's their own fault," said Matilda.

"But those people this morning hadn't perhaps any place to be in _but_ their kitchen. They might not be able to help it, for want of another room and another fire."

Matilda was eager, but Norton was very much amused. He ordered some more ice cream and a charlotte. Matilda eat what he gave her, but silently carried on her thoughts; _these_ she would have given to Maria, if she could; she was having more than enough.

Moralizing was at an end when she got to the gardener's shop. The consultations and discussions which went on then, drove everything else out of her head. The matter in hand was a winter garden, for their home in New York.

"I'll have some auriculas this year," said Norton. "You wouldn't know how to manage them, Pink. You must have tulips and snowdrops; O yes, and crocuses. You can get good crocuses here. And polyanthus narcissus you can have. You will like that."

"But what will you have, Norton?"

"Auriculas. That's one thing. And then, I think I'll have some Amaryllis roots--but I won't get those here. I'll get tulips and hyacinths, Pink."

"Shall we have room for so many?"

"Lots of room. There's my room has two south windows--that's the good of being on a corner; and I don't know exactly what your room will be, but I'll get grandmother to let us live on that side of the house anyhow. n.o.body else in the family cares about a south window, only you and I. Put up a dozen Van Tols, and a dozen of the hyacinths, and three polyanthus narcissus, and a dozen crocuses;--and a half dozen snowdrops."

"Will you plant them while we are in Shadywalk?"

"Of course," said Norton; "or else they'll be blossoming too late, don't you see? Unless we go to town very soon; and in that case we'll wait and keep them."

The roots were paid for and ordered to be sent by express; and at last Norton and Matilda took their journey to the station house to wait for the train. It was all a world of delight to Matilda. She watched eagerly the gathering people, the busy porters and idle hack drivers; the expectant table and waiters in the station restaurant; every detail and almost every person she saw had the charm of novelty or an interest of some sort for her unwonted eyes. And then came the rumble of the train, the snort and the whistle; and she was seated beside Norton in the car, with a place by the window where she could still watch everything. The daylight was dying along the western sh.o.r.e before they reached the Shadywalk station; the hills and the river seemed to Matilda like a piece of a beautiful vision; and all the day had been like a dream.