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"Philanthropy has certainly seized upon this family to an alarming extent," said Bessie Sandford, when she heard the story, "but I wish that I had been there to see pet Daisy at her post acting peanut-vender." How far Daisy's effort to prove to Matty that she "was not proud" affected that young cripple, could not be told; but she did not fail to hear of the thing from Jim.
Ring for Bridget, if any thing wants cleaning. You're a real Meddlesome Matty, Bertha." "O Mamma!" cried Bertha, aggrieved. "Grandmamma taught me to dust when we lived in the other house, you know. Grandmamma said it was a good thing for little girls to be useful. And I didn't meddle with any thing on the table; really I didn't, Mamma." "Never mind, dear," said Mrs. Frisbie.
Julia was the exception. She had been instructed a fortnight before that she must know her lines and business to-day, and she did know them. Almost scornfully she took her cues and walked through her part. "Matty" clapped his hands and overpraised her, and Julia felt with a great rush of triumph that she had "shown those girls!"
John Dwyer's house was a scene of activity that day, for not only was the priest to breakfast there always an affair of honour but a grand dinner was also preparing on a large scale; for a wedding-feast was to be held in the house, in honour of Matty Dwyer's nuptials, which were to be celebrated that day with a neighbouring young farmer, rather well to do in the world.
Miss Matty remained puzzled and perplexed long after I had found out the object of Mrs Jamieson's visit. When she did understand the drift of the honourable lady's call, it was pretty to see with what quiet dignity she received the intimation thus uncourteously given.
The little girl laughed at this speech, and Matty, addressing Willie as a "dirty spalpeen," said he had better go with her to a shop first, and she'd then take him back and introduce him to Miss Tippet. "You see I can't let ye in all be yer lone, cushla; for what would the neighbours say, you know!
Kennedy, aged twenty-nine," "Matty, second wife of Dr. Kennedy, aged thirty," and once he was absolutely guilty of wondering how the words, "Maude, third wife of Dr. Kennedy, aged forty-one," would look.
Miss Matty and Miss Pole talked and thought more about bonnets, gowns, caps, and shawls, during the fortnight that succeeded this call, than I had known them do for years before. But it might be the spring weather, for it was a warm and pleasant March; and merinoes and beavers, and woollen materials of all sorts were but ungracious receptacles of the bright sun's glancing rays.
If the all-absorbing topic of the day, Beatrice's wedding, was discussed, she invariably grew grave, her face would become a shade paler than its wont, and her bright, restless eyes would be lowered. Except on one occasion, she never asked questions about the approaching wedding. On the contrary, she markedly avoided the subject. Once, however, she inquired the date of the wedding from Matty.
I had always noticed this scent about any of the things which had belonged to her mother; and many of the letters were addressed to her yellow bundles of love-letters, sixty or seventy years old. Miss Matty undid the packet with a sigh; but she stifled it directly, as if it were hardly right to regret the flight of time, or of life either.
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