ty. That would take a good deal of money; more than
you have got, little one."

"But--I can't reach them all, but I can do something for this one,"
said Matilda. "I _must_ do something."

"Even that would take a good deal of money," said David.

"I must do something," Matilda repeated. And she went to her own room
to ponder how, while she was getting ready for dinner. Could she save
anything from her Christmas money?

CHAPTER XII.

Matilda's thoughts about Christmas took now another character. Instead
of the delightful confusion of pretty things for rich hands, among
which she had only to choose, her meditations dwelt now upon the
homelier supplies of the wants of her poor little neighbour. What could
be had instead of that damp cellar with its mud floor? how might some
beginnings of comfort be brought to cluster round the little
street-sweeper, who except in Sunday school had hardly known what
comfort was? It lay upon Matilda's heart; she dreamed about it at night
and thought about it nearly all day, while she was mending Mrs. Lloyd's
lace shawl.

The shawl was getting mended; that was a satisfactory certainty; but it
took a great deal of time. Slowly the delicate fabric seemed to grow,
and the place that the candle flame had entered seemed to be less and
less; very slowly, for the lace was exceedingly fine and the tracery of
embroidered or wrought flowers was exceeding rich. Matilda was shut up
in her room the most part of the time that week; it was the Christmas
week, and the shawl must be finished before the party of Friday night.
Mrs. Laval sometimes came in to look at the little worker and kiss her.
And one afternoon Norton came pounding at her door.

"Is it you, Norton?"

"Of course. Come out, Pink; we want you."

Matilda put down her work and opened the door.

"Come out; we are going to rehearse, and we want you, Pink."

"I should like to come, Norton, but I can't."

"What's the mischief? Why do you whisper?"

"I am not about any mischief; but I am busy, Norton. I cannot come,
indeed."

Norton pushed himself a little way into the room.

"Busy about what?" said he. "That's all bosh. What are you busy about?
What is _that?_ Hullo!"

For Norton's eye, roving round the room, caught the rich lace drapery
which lay upon one of Matilda's chairs. He went closer to look at it,
and then turned an amazed eye upon her.

"I know what this is, Pink. Whatever have you got it here for?"

"Hush, N