ng her new work for the next day. So went the work; very busy,
and very happy too; only for Matilda's being shut out from greenhouse
pleasures and Judy taken into Norton's partnership.

CHAPTER V.

But the next Sunday had a new joy for her. Mr. Wharncliffe informed her
after school-time, that he had found a lodging which he thought would
do nicely for her poor friends. All Matilda's troubles fled away like
mist before the sun, and her face lighted up as if the very sun itself
had been shining into it. Mr. Wharncliffe went on to tell her about the
lodging. It was near, but not in, that miserable quarter of the city
where Sarah and her mother now lived. It was not in a tenement house
either; but in a little dwelling owned by an Irishman and his wife who
seemed decent people. He was a mechanic, and one room of their small
house they were accustomed to let, to help pay their rent.

"Is it furnished, Mr. Wharncliffe?"

"No; entirely bare."

"How large is it?"

"Small. Not so large by one-third as the room where they are living
now."

"Can't go and see it?"

"Yes, there is no difficulty about that. I will go with you to-morrow,
if you like."

"And how much is the rent, Mr. Wharncliffe?"

"One dollar a week. The woman was willing to let the room to Mrs.
Staples, because I was making the bargain and understood to be security
for her; only so."

"Then we will go to-morrow, sir, shall we, and see the room and see
what it wants? and perhaps you will shew me that place where you said I
could get furniture cheap?"

This was agreed upon. To Matilda's very great surprise, David, when he
heard her news, said he would go too. She half expected he would get
over the notion by the time he got home from school on Monday; but no;
he said he wanted a walk and he would see the place with her.

The place was humble enough. A poor little house, that looked as if its
more aspiring neighbours would certainly swallow it up and deny its
right to be at all; so low and decrepit it was, among better built if
not handsome edifices. Street and surroundings were dingy and mean;
however, when they went in they found a decent little room under the
sloping roof and with a bit of blue sky visible from its dormer window.
It was empty and bare.

"Thin, we always has rispictable lodgers," said the good woman, who had
taken her arms out of a tub of soapsuds to accompany the party
upstairs; "and the room is a very dacent apartment entir