he pleasure was for the sight of Mr. Wharncliffe; perhaps
Sarah was shy of her other visiter. However, Mr. Wharncliffe took the
conversation upon himself, and left it to nobody to feel or shew
awkwardness; which both Matilda and Sarah were ready to do. He had
none; Matilda thought he never could have any, anywhere; so gracious,
so free, his words and manner were in this wretched place; so pleasant
and kind, without a trace of consciousness that he had ever been in a
better room than this. And yet his boot heels made prints in the damp
earth floor. The poor slatternly woman roused up a little to meet his
words of cheer and look of sympathy; and Sarah came and stood by his
shoulder. It was an angel's visit. Matilda saw it, as well as she knew
that she had been walking with one; he brought some warmth and light
even into that drear region; some brightness even into those faces;
though he staid but a few minutes. Giving then a hearty hand grasp, not
to his scholar only but to the poor woman her mother, whom Matilda
thought it must be very disagreeable to touch, he with his new scholar
came away.

Matilda's desire to talk or wish to hear talking had suddenly ended.
She threaded the streets in a maze; and Mr. Wharncliffe was silent;
till block after block was passed and gradually a region of comparative
order and beauty was opening to them. At last he looked down at his
little silent companion.

"This is a pleasanter part of the city, isn't it?"

"O Mr. Wharncliffe!" Matilda burst forth, "why do they live there?"

"Because they cannot live anywhere else."

"They are so poor as that?"

"So poor as that. And a great many other people are so poor as that."

"How much would it cost?"

"For them to move? Well, it would cost the rent of a better room; and
they haven't got it. The mother cannot earn much; and Sarah is the
chief stay of the family."

"Have they nothing to live upon, but the pennies she gets for sweeping
the crossing?"

"Not much else. The mother makes slops, I believe; but that brings in
only a few more coppers a week."

"How much _would_ a better room cost, Mr. Wharncliffe?"

"A dollar a week, maybe; more or less, as the case might be."

There was silence again; until Mr. Wharncliffe and Matilda had come to
Blessington avenue and were walking down its clean and spacious sideway.

"Mr. Wharncliffe," said Matilda suddenly, "why are some people so rich
and other people so poor?"

"There are a great m