orton; I am mending it."

"_Mending_ it! have you broken it?"

"No, not I; but Judy would wear it one night when we were practising;
and it got in the flame of the candle and was burnt; and Judy was
frightened, and I thought maybe I could mend it; and see, Norton,--you
can hardly tell the place, or you won't, when I have finished."

Norton fairly drew a low whistle and sat down to consider the matter.

"And _this_ is what keeps you away so. Judy will be obliged to you, I
hope. She doesn't deserve it. And grandmamma don't know! Well, Pink, I
always said you were a brick."

Matilda smiled and took up her mending.

"But how are you going to be ready for Christmas?"

"O I think about it, Norton, while I am working."

"Yes, but thinking will not buy your things."

"_That_ won't take very long. I do not think I shall get a great deal
now. O Norton, I have found something else that wants money."

"Money! I dare say," said Norton. "Everything wants money. What is it,
Pink? It isn't Lilac lane, anyhow."

"No, Norton; but worse."

"Go on," said Norton. "You needn't stop and look so._I_ can stand it.
What is it?"

Matilda dropped her lace for the minute, and told her walk and visit of
Sunday afternoon. As she told it, the tears gathered; and at the end
she dropped her face upon her knees and sobbed. Norton did not know
what to do.

"There's lots of such places," he said at last. "You needn't fret so.
This isn't the only one."

"O Norton, that makes it worse. One is enough; and I cannot help that;
and I _must_."

"Must what?" said Norton. "Help them? You cannot, Pink. It is no use
for you to try to lift all New York on your shoulders. It's no use to
think about it."

"I am not going to try to lift all New York," said the little girl,
making an effort to dry her eyes.

"And it is no good crying about it, you know."

"No, no good," said Matilda. "But I don't know, Norton; perhaps it is.
If other people cried about it, the thing would get mended."

"Not so easy as lace work," said Norton, looking at the cobweb tracery
tissue before him.

"But it must be mended, Norton?" said Matilda inquiringly, and almost
imploringly.

"Well, Pink, anybody that tries it will get mired. That's all I have to
say. There's no end to New York mud."

"But we can lift people out of it."

"_I_ can't," said Norton. "Nor you neither. No, you can't. There's lots
of societies and institutions and committees and boards, and all tha