a," said Matilda, "do you know there is a great hole in the door
mat?"

"It is worn out a great deal too soon," said Mrs. Englefield; "I shall
tell Mr. Hard that his goods do not last; to be sure, you children do
kick it to pieces with the snow."

"But, mamma, I should think you might get another, and let that one go
to the kitchen."

"And then, wouldn't you like me to buy a new hall cloth? there is very
nearly a hole in that."

"Oh yes, mamma!"

"I cannot do it, children. I am not as rich as your Aunt Candy. You
must be contented to let things be as they are."

The girls seemed to take it as a grave fact, to judge by their faces.

"And I think all this is very foolish talking and feeling. People are
not any better for being rich."

"But they are a great deal happier," said Letitia.

"I don't know, I am sure. I never was tried. I think you had better put
the thought out of your heads. I should be sorry if you were not as
happy as your cousin, and with as much reason."

"Mamma's being sorry doesn't help the matter," said Letitia, softly. "I
know I should be happier if I had what I want. It is just nonsense to
say I should not. And mamma would herself."

That evening, the end of the week it was, the newspaper rewarded the
first eyes that looked at its columns, with the intelligence that the
_City of Pride_ had been telegraphed. She would be in that night. And
the list of passengers duly showed the names of Mrs. Candy and
daughter. The family could hardly wait over Sunday now. Monday
morning's train, they settled it, would bring the travellers. Sunday
was spent in a flutter. But, however, that Monday, as well as that
Sunday, was a lost day. The washing was put off, and a special dinner
cooked, in vain. The children stayed at home and did not go to school,
and did nothing. Nobody did anything to speak of. To be sure, there was
a great deal of running up and down stairs; setting and clearing
tables; going to and from the post-office; but when night came, the
house and everything in it was just where the morning had found them;
only, all the humanity in it was tired with looking out of windows.

"That's the worst of expecting people!" Mrs. Englefield observed, as
she wearily put herself in an arm-chair, and Letitia drew the window
curtains. "You never know what to do, and the thing you do is sure to
be the wrong thing. Here Judith might as well have done her washing as
not; and now it's to do to-morrow, when we