the snowy
streets, had somewhat the effect of breaking a spell. For a while, that
seemed now a very long while, Matilda had been in a whirl of
expectation and pleasure and in a kind of dream of enchantment; nothing
but soft luxury and visions of delight and one thing after another to
make the child think she had got into very fairyland. But the streets
outside were not fairyland; and the sharp air pinched her cheek with a
grip which was not tender or flattering at all. The sense began to come
back to Matilda that everybody was not having such rose-coloured dreams
as she, nor living in summer-heated rooms. Nay, she saw children that
were ill dressed, on their way like her; some who were insufficiently
dressed; a multitude who were not nicely dressed; the contrast was very
unpleasant, and a certain feeling of uneasiness and of responsibility
and of desire to make other people comfortable crept over her anew.
Then she remembered that she could not reach many, she could not do
much; and she came into school and took her seat at last with a
concentrated desire to do at least something effectual towards rescuing
Sarah Staples from her miserable circumstances. After the lesson was
done and the scholars were dismissed, Matilda asked Mr. Wharncliffe if
she could speak to him?

"Is it a minute's work? or several minutes?" he inquired.

"I don't know, sir; I think, several minutes."

"Then wait a minute, and we will walk home together."

Matilda liked that, and presently in the clear late light of the waning
winter afternoon, she and her teacher sallied forth into the street
hand in hand.

"Now what is it?" he asked.

"About Sarah, Mr. Wharncliffe."

"Well? What about her?"

"I have been thinking a great deal, Mr. Wharncliffe, how to manage it;
because I had not a great deal of money myself, and I did not know
whether I could get help or no; but now I think I _shall_ have some
help; and I wanted to consult you to know what I had best do."

"What do you want to do?"

"First, I want to get her out of that dreadful place into a comfortable
room somewhere."

"Suppose you do it, how is she going to stay in it?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"The rent of such a room as you speak of would be, say seventy-five
cents or a dollar a week. How are Sarah and her mother to pay that?"

"O I should have to pay it for them. I could do that, I think."

"For how long?"

Matilda looked at her teacher and did not immediately answer.