The House in Town Part 13

"Is this Poughkeepsie?"

"Yes, this is Poughkeepsie. Now we'll have breakfast! Look sharp, Pink"--

In another minute, the two were standing on the platform of the station.

"Is _this_ the place?" Matilda inquired a little ruefully. She saw, inside the gla.s.s door, a large room with what seemed like a shop counter running down the length of it; and on this counter certainly eatables were set out; she could see cups of tea or coffee, and biscuits, and pieces of pie. People were crowding to this counter, and plates and cups seemed to have a busy time.

"This is Poughkeepsie," said Norton. "You have been here before. This our restaurant? I should think not! Not precisely. We have got to take a walk before we get to it. Smith's is at the top of the street."

"I am glad; I am ready to walk," said Matilda joyously; and they set off at a pace which shewed what sort of time their spirits were keeping. Nevertheless, all the way, between other things, Matilda was studying the problem of poverty which Norton had presented to her. The walk was quite a walk, and the footsteps were a little slower before the "top of the street" was reached. Why Norton called it so, Matilda did not see. The street went on, far beyond; but they turned aside round a corner, and presently were at the place they wanted.

They entered a nice quiet room, somewhat large, to be sure, and with a number of little tables set out; but n.o.body at any of them. Matilda and Norton went towards the back of the room, where it took an angle, and they could be a little more private. Here they took possession of one of the tables. Norton set down his basket, and Matilda took off her hat. Nothing, she thought, could possibly be any pleasanter than this expedition in which they were engaged. This was a rare experience; unparalleled.

"Now what shall we have?" said Norton.

"What _can_ we have?" said Matilda.

"Everything. That is, any common thing. You couldn't get dishes of French make-ups, I suppose; and we don't want them. I am just as hungry as a bear."

"And I am as hungry as a bear_ess_."

Norton went off into a great laugh. "You look so like it!" he said.

"But you might be as hungry as a bear; that don't say anything against your ladylike character. Though I always heard that she bears were fiercer than the others, when once they got their spirits up. Oh, Pink, Pink!"--

He was interrupted by the waiter.

"Now Pink, we've got to be civilized, and say what we'll have. You may have a cup of coffee."

"Yes, I would like it, Norton."

"And beefsteak? or cold chicken? We'll have chicken. I know you like it best."

It was nice of Norton; for he didn't.

"Buckwheats, Pink?"

"Yes. I like them," said Matilda.

"So do I, when they are good. And rolls, in case they shouldn't be. And good syrup--Silver Drip, mind."

Norton gave his order, and the two sat waiting. Matilda examined the place and its appointments. It was neat, if it was very plain.

"It's a good place enough," said Norton. "The country people come here in the middle of the day when they have driven in to Poughkeepsie to market and do shopping. Then the place is busy and all alive; now, you see, we have got it to ourselves. But anyhow, they have always good plain things here."

So the breakfast proved when it came. Matilda was very much amused with the little coffee pot, holding just enough for two, and the cream pitcher to match. But there was hot milk in plenty; and the cakes were feathery light; and the cold fowl very good; and the rolls excellent.

And the two, Norton and Matilda, were very hungry. So much exercise and so much business and pleasure together made them sharp. Eating stopped talking a little. But the very goodness of the breakfast made Matilda think only the more, in the intervals, of that question Norton had given her; why were there poor people, who could have nothing like this?

"Shall we go to Blodgett's next? or will you see Maria first?" Norton asked.

"O, Maria first, Norton; and then we need not be hurried about the plants."

"The roots," said Norton. "Well, I'll see you there, and then I have some other business to attend to. I'll come for you about dinner time; then we can go to Blodgett's after dinner. You'll want a good deal of time with Maria, I suppose."

So after breakfast the two went down the town again and turned into the cross street where Maria lived. At the door of the humble-looking house, Norton left Matilda and went off again. Yes, it was a plain, small brick house, with wooden steps and little windows. Matilda had the door opened to her by Maria herself. She could not understand, though she surely saw, the cloud which instantly covered a flash of pleasure in Maria's face. The two went in, went up the stairs to a little back room, which was Maria's own. A chill came over Matilda here. It was so different from her room. A little close stove warmed it; the bed was covered with a gay patchwork quilt which had seen its best days; the chairs were but two, and those rush-bottomed. A painted wooden chest of drawers stood under the tiny bit of looking gla.s.s; the wash stand in the corner had but one towel thrown over it, and that not clean; one or two of Maria's dresses hung up against the wall. But a skirt of rich blue silk lay across the bed, for contrast; and yards of blue satin ribband lay partly quilled on the skirt, partly heaped on the patchwork quilt, and part had fallen on the floor. So one life touched another life.

"Well!" said Maria, for Matilda did not immediately begin what she had to say,--"how came you to be here so early?"

"We came down in the early train. I wanted to have a good long time to talk to you; and the next train is so late."

"Who came with you?"

"O, Norton. Norton Laval."

"Norton Laval! He came with you before. How came aunt Candy to let you come?"

"She could not help it."

"No," said Maria scornfully; "anything that Mrs. Laval wanted, she would say nothing against. She would go down on her knees, if she could get into Mrs. Laval's house. Did Mrs. Laval ask her to get you those new things?"

"No. Mrs. Laval"--

"How came she to do it, then?" interrupted Maria. "They are just as handsome as they can be; and in the fashion too. But she always liked you. I knew it. She never gave me anything, but a faded silk neckerchief. She is too mean"--

"O don't, Maria!" Matilda interrupted in her turn. "Aunt Candy had nothing to do with these things; she never gave me much either; she did not get these for me."

"Who did, then?" said Maria opening her eyes.

"Mrs. Laval."

"Mrs. Laval! How came _she_ to do it?"

"Yes, Maria, because--Maria, I have gone away from aunt Candy's."

"For a visit. I know. It has been a tremendously long visit, I think."

"Not for a visit now. Maria, I am not to go back there at all any more; I mean, I am not going back to aunt Candy. Mrs. Laval has taken me to keep--to be her own child. I am there now, for always."

"What?" Maria exclaimed.

"Mrs. Laval has taken me for her own,--for her own child."

"She hasn't!" said Maria; and if the wish did not point the expression, it was hard to tell what did. Matilda made no answer.

"Mrs. Laval has taken you? _for her own child?_" repeated Maria. "Do you mean that? To be with her, just like her own daughter? always?"

Matilda bowed her head, and her eyes filled. She was so disappointed.

"You aren't ever going to call her mamma? Don't you do it, Matilda! See you don't. If you do, I'll not be your sister any more. She shall not have that!"