give
him something! And if she could, what in the world would it be? On this
question Matilda's fancy fairly went off and lost itself, and Norton
got no more talk from her till they reached home.

She mused about it again when she was alone in the carriage that
afternoon driving to Mme. Fournisson's. As she had not the money, she
thought she might as well have the comfort of fancying she had it and
thinking what she would do with it; and so she puzzled in delightful
mazes of dreamland, thinking what she would get for Norton if she had
the power. It was so difficult a point to decide that the speculation
gave her a great deal to do. Norton was pretty well supplied with
things a boy might wish for; _he_ did not want any of the class of
presents Matilda had carried to Maria. But Norton was very fond of
pretty things. Matilda knew that; yet her experience of delicate
matters of art was too limited, and her knowledge of the resources of
New York stores too unformed, to give her fancy much scope. She had a
vague idea that there _were_ pretty things that he might like, if only
she knew where they were to be found. In the mean time, it was but the
other day, she had heard him complaining that the guard of his watch
was broken. Matilda knew how to make a very pretty, strong sort of
watch guard; if she only had some strong brown silk to weave it of.
That was easy to get, and would not cost much; if she had but a few
shillings. Those round toed boots! It darted into her mind, how the two
dollars and a half she had paid for those round toes, would have bought
the silk for a watch guard and left a great deal to spare. There was a
little sharp regret just here. It would have been such pleasure! And
she would not have been quite empty handed in the great Christmas
festival. But the round toes? Could she have done without them?

The question was not settled when she got to the dressmaker's; and for
a good while there Matilda could think of nothing but her new dresses
and the fashion and style which belonged to them. All that while the
dressmaker, not Mme. Fournissons by any means, but one of her women,
was trying on the bodies of these dresses, measuring lengths, fitting
trimmings, and trying effects. It was done at last; and then Matilda
desired the coachman to take her to 316 Bolivar street.

It was very grand, to ride in a carriage all alone by herself; to sink
back on those luxurious cushions and look out at the people who were