a," said Norton, "isn't she a brick?"

"A brick?" said Mrs. Laval, taking Matilda in her arms, and sitting
down with her. "A brick! this soft, sweet, fresh delight of mine!" And
as she spoke she emphasised her words with kisses. "My darling! There
is nothing rough, or harsh, or stiff about you, nor anything angular,
nor anything coarse; and he calls you a brick!"

"I think he means something good by it, ma'am," Matilda said, laughing.

"I don't know about the angles," said Norton. "Pink has a stiff corner
now and then that I haven't been able to break off yet."

"Break off!" said Mrs. Laval, sitting with her arms round Matilda. And
then they all went off into a laugh together.

"I had forgotten what I was going to say," Mrs. Laval resumed. "When
you are out, Norton, I wish you would stop and send the doctor here."

"What's the matter?"

"I don't know; but those poor people are in a state under the bank, and
maybe the doctor could best tell what they want."

"Ill?" said Norton.

"No, not ill, but dull and spiritless. I don't know what is the matter.
They are tired with their journey perhaps, and forlorn in a strange
place. Maybe they would feel better if they saw the doctor. I think
such people often do."

And then Norton and Matilda had another ride in the basket waggon.

On their return, Norton proposed that they should go down under the
bank and see the new-comers. Matilda was ready for anything. Under the
bank was the place for Mrs. Laval's farm-house, and dairy house, and
barn, and stables; a neat little settlement it looked like. A pretty
little herd of cows had come home to be milked, and a woman in a
strange costume, never before known at Shadywalk, had come out with a
milking pail. To her Norton marched up, and addressed her in French;
Matilda could not understand a word of it; but presently Norton went
off into the farm-house. Here, in the kitchen, they found the rest of
the family. A pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman was busy with supper; a
young pretty girl was helping her; and two men, travel-worn and bearing
the marks of poverty, sat over the fire holding their heads. Norton
entered into conversation here again. It was very amusing to Matilda,
the play of face and interchange of lively words between him and these
people, while yet she could not understand a word. Even the men lifted
up what seemed to be heavy heads to glance at the young master of the
place; and the women looked at him and spoke