with equal care and punctiliousness in the morning. Maria's
stockings went one way and her shoes another; while Tilly's were put
exactly ready for use under her chair. And Maria's clothes presently
lay in a heap on the floor. But not till some time after Matilda's neat
arrangements had been made and she herself was safe in bed. Maria had
dallied while the other was undressing.

"I think you are very curious, Matilda!" she exclaimed, as she followed
her sister into bed. "I shouldn't think it required much _thinking_, to
know that one ought to be good."

"You haven't put out the candle, Maria."

Maria bounced from her bed, and bounced in again.

"O Maria!" said Matilda in a moment or two, plaintively; "you've
_blown_ it out! and the room is all filled with smoke."

"It doesn't make any difference," said Maria.

"It is very disagreeable."

"It will be gone in a minute."

"No, it won't, for I can see the red spark on the end of the candle
now."

"You are so particular, Tilly!" said her sister. "If _you_ ever take a
notion to be good, you'll have to leave off some of your ways, I can
tell you. You needn't mind a little smell of candle-smoke. Go to sleep,
and forget it."

"Don't good people mind disagreeable things?" said Matilda.

"No, of course, they don't. How could they get along, you know? Don't
you remember what Mr. Richmond said?"

"I don't remember that he said _that_. But then, Maria, would you mind
getting up to snuff out that candle? It's dreadful!"

"Nonsense! I shan't do it. I've just got warm."

Another minute or two gave tokens that Maria was past minding
discomfort of any sort. She was fast asleep. Tilly waited, panted,
looked at the glimmering red end of the candle snuff; finally got out
of bed and crept to the dressing-table where it stood, and with some
trouble managed to put a stop to smoke for that night.

CHAPTER II.

The house in which these things happened was a brown house, standing on
the great high-road of travel which ran through the country, and just
where a considerable village had clustered round it. From the upper
windows you caught a glimpse of a fine range of blue mountains, lying
miles away, and with indeed a broad river flowing between; but the
river was too far off to be seen, and hidden behind intervening ground.
From the lower windows you looked out into the village street; clean
and wide, with comfortable houses standing along the way, not crowded
together;