ong gallery, discovered her, wrapt in contemplation,
standing before a large engraving which hung high above her on the
wall. Matilda's head was thrown back, gazing; her two little hands were
carelessly crossed at her back; she was a sort of picture herself. Mrs.
Laval came up softly.

"What are you looking at, my darling?"

Matilda started. "Have you got through, mamma? did you want me?"

"I have got through; but I do not want you unless you are ready. What
have you found that pleases you?"

"Look, mamma. That one--the woman holding a lamp--don't you see?"

It was Holman Hunt's figure of the woman searching for the lost piece
of money.

"What is it?" said Mrs. Laval.

"Don't you remember, mamma? the story of the woman who had ten pieces
of silver and lost one of them? how she swept the house, and looked
until she found it?"

"If I had nine left, I should not take so much trouble," said Mrs.
Laval.

"Ah, but, mamma, you know the Lord Jesus does not think so."

"The Lord! _What_ are you talking of, my child?"

"O you do not remember, mamma! It is a parable. The Lord Jesus means us
to know how _He_ cares for the lost ones."

Mrs. Laval looked from Matilda to the picture and back again.

"Do you like it so very much?" she said.

"O I do, mamma! it's beautiful. What an odd lamp she has."

"That is the shape lamps used to be," said Mrs. Laval. "Not so good as
ours."

"Prettier," said Matilda. "And it seems to give a good light. No, it
don't, though; it shines only on a little place. But it's pretty."

"You do love pretty things," said Mrs. Laval laughing. "We will come
and look at it again."

Matilda, it shewed how enterprising she was getting to be, had already
privately inquired the price of the picture. It was fifteen dollars
without a frame. Far up over her little head indeed. She drew a long
breath, and came away.

The latter part of the week another engrossment appeared, in the shape
of her new dresses from Mme. Fournissons. Mrs. Laval tried them all on;
and Matilda's head had almost more than it could stand. So many, so
handsome, so elegantly made and trimmed, so very becoming they were; it
was like a fairy tale. To these dresses Mrs. Laval had been all the
week adding riches of under-clothing; a supply so abundant that Matilda
had never dreamed of the like, and so elegant and fine in material and
make as she had never until then even seen. Now Matilda had a natural
liking for extreme neatness