ng up
her little head.

"You married, my love! And pray when are you to be married?"

"Mamma often talks of the time when she shall lose me, and of what
things have to be done while she has me with her."

"There is a great deal to be done indeed, love, before that day, if it
ever comes."

"There are more ways than one of losing a child," observed Phoebe, in
her straightforward way. "If Mrs Rowland thinks so long beforehand of
the one way, it is to be hoped she keeps Miss Matilda up to the thought
of the other, which must happen sooner or later, while marrying may
not."

"Well, Phoebe," said the old lady, "we will not put any dismal thoughts
into this little head: time enough for that: we will leave all that to
Miss Young." Then, stroking Matilda's round cheek, she inquired, "My
love, did you ever in your life feel any pain?"

"Oh, dear, yes, grandmamma: to be sure I have; twice. Why, don't you
remember, last spring, I had a dreadful pain in my head for nearly two
hours, on George's birthday? And last week, after I went to bed, I had
such a pain in my arm, I did not know how to bear it."

"And what became of it?"

"Oh, I found at last I could bear it no longer, and I began to think
what I should do. I meant to ring the bell, but I fell asleep."

Phoebe laughed with very little ceremony, and grandmamma could not help
joining. She supposed Matilda hoped it might be long enough before she
had any more pain. In the night-time, certainly, Matilda said. And not
in the daytime? Is not pain as bad in the daytime? Matilda
acknowledged that she should like to be ill in the daytime. Mamma took
her on her lap when she was ill; and Miss Young was so very sorry for
her; and she had something nice to drink.

"Then I am afraid, my dear, you don't pity me at all," said grandmamma.
"Perhaps you think you would like to live in a room like this, with a
sofa and a screen, and Phoebe to wait upon you, and whatever you might
fancy to eat and drink. Would you like to be ill as I am?"

"Not at present," said Matilda: "not till I am married. I shall enjoy
doing as I like when I am married."

"How the child's head runs upon being married!" said Phoebe. "And to
suppose that being ill is doing as one likes, of all odd things!"

"I should often like to fly all over the world," said Mrs Enderby, "and
to get anywhere out of this room--I am so tired of it: but I know I
cannot: so I get books, and read about all the strange