Opportunities. Warner Susan

I sent your aunt," said Mr. Sample, "was one fifty a pound; and worth it. Don't she approve the flavour?"

      "I believe so. But I want a little of another kind, Mr. Sample – if you have any that is good, and not so high."

      "I have an excellent Oolong here for a dollar. Will you try that?"

      "Please give me a quarter of a pound."

      "She will like it," said Mr. Sample, weighing the quantity and putting it up; "it really has as much body as the other sort, and I think it is very nearly as good. The other is fifty cents a pound more. Tell Mrs. Candy I can serve her with this if she prefers."

      "I want a loaf of bread too, if you please."

      "Baking failed?" said Mr. Sample. "Here, Jem, give this little girl a loaf."

      He himself went to attend another customer, so Matilda paid for her purchases without any more questions being asked her. She went to another store for a little butter, and there also laid in a few herrings; and then, with a full basket and a light heart, took the way to Lilac Lane.

      CHAPTER III

      Mrs. Eldridge was as she had left her yesterday; a trifle more forlorn, perhaps. The afternoon being bright and sunny, made everything in the house look more grimy and dusty for the contrast. Matilda shrank from having anything to do with it. But yet, the consciousness that she carried a basket of comfort on her arm was a great help.

      "Good morning, Mrs. Eldridge; how do you do?" she said, cheerily.

      "Is it that little gal?"

      "Yes, it is I, Mrs. Eldridge. I said I would come back. How do you do, to-day?"

      "I'm most dead," said the poor woman. Matilda was startled; but looking again, could not see that her face threatened anything like it. She rather thought Mrs. Eldridge was tired of life; and she did not wonder.

      "You don't feel ill, do you?"

      "No," the woman said, with a long drawn sigh. "There ain't no sickness got hold o' me yet. There's no one as 'll care when it comes."

      "Would you like a cup of tea this afternoon?"

      "Tea?" said the poor woman, "I don't have no tea, child. Tea's for the folks as has money, or somebody to care for 'em."

      "But I care for you," said Matilda, gently. "And the Lord Jesus cares. And He gave me the money to get some tea, and I've got it. Now I'm going to make a fire in the stove. Is there any wood anywhere?"

      "Fire?" said Mrs. Eldridge.

      "Yes. To boil the kettle, you know. Is there any wood anywhere?"

      "Have you got some tea?"

      "Yes, and now I want to make the kettle boil. Where can I get some wood?"

      "Kettle?" said the old woman. "I hain't no kettle."

      "No tea-kettle?"

      "No. It's gone. There ain't none."

      "What is there, then, that I can boil some water in?"

      "There's a skillet down in there," said Mrs. Eldridge, pointing to the under part of the corner cupboard which Matilda had looked into the day before. She went now to explore what remained. The lower part had once been used, it seemed, for pots and kettles and stove furniture. At least it looked black enough; and an old saucepan and a frying-pan, two flat-irons very rusty, and a few other iron articles were there. But both saucepan and frying-pan were in such a state that Matilda could not think of using them. Days of purification would be needed first. So she shut the cupboard door, and came back to the question of fire; for difficulties were not going to overcome her now. And there were difficulties. Mrs. Eldridge could not help her to any firing. She knew nothing about it. None had been in the house for a long time.

      Matilda stood and looked at the stove. Then she emptied her basket; laying her little packages carefully on a chair; and went off on a foraging expedition. At a lumber yard or a carpenter's shop she could pick up something; but neither was near. The houses in Lilac Lane were too needy them selves to ask anything at them. Matilda went down the lane, seeing no prospect of help, till she came to the iron shop and the livery stable. She looked hard at both places. Nothing for her purpose was to be seen; and she remembered that there were children enough in the houses behind her to keep the neighbourhood picked clean of chips and brushwood. What was to be done? She took a bold resolve, and went into the iron shop, the master of which she knew slightly. He was there, and looked at her as she came in.

      "Mr. Swain, have you any little bits of wood that you could let me have? bits of wood to make a fire."

      "Matilda Englefield, ain't it?" said Mr. Swain. "Bits o' wood? bits of iron are more in our way – could let ye have a heap o' them. Bits o' wood to make a fire, did ye say? 'twon't be a big fire as 'll come out o' that 'ere little basket."

      "I do not want a big fire – just some bits of wood to boil a kettle."

      "I want to know!" said Mr. Swain. "You hain't come all this way from your house to get wood? What's happened to you?"

      "Oh, not for our fire! Oh no. I want it for a place here in the lane."

      "These folks picks up their own wood – you hadn't no need for to trouble yourself about them."

      "No, but it is some one who cannot pick up her own wood, Mr. Swain, nor get it any other way; it is an old woman, and she wants a little fire to make a cup of tea."

      "I guess, if she can get the tea she can get the wood."

      "Somebody brought her the tea," said Matilda, who luckily was not in one way a timid child. "I will pay for the wood if I can get some."

      "Oh, that's the game, eh?" said the man. "Well, as it's Mis' Englefield's daughter – I guess we'll find you what will do you – how 'll this suit, if I split it up for you, eh?"

      He handled an old box cover as he spoke.

      Matilda answered that it was the very thing; and a few easy blows of Mr. Swain's hatchet broke it up into nice billets and splinters. Part of these went into Matilda's basket, one end of them at least; the rest she took with great difficulty in her apron; and so went back up the lane again.

      It was good to see the glint of the old woman's eyes, when she saw the wood flung down on the floor. Matilda went on to clear out the stove. It had bits of coal and clinker in the bottom of it. But she had furnished herself with a pair of old gloves, and her spirit was thoroughly up to the work now. She picked out the coal and rubbish, laid in paper and splinters and wood; now how to kindle it? Matilda had no match. And she remembered suddenly that she had better have her kettle ready first, lest the fire should burn out before its work was done. So saying to Mrs. Eldridge that she was going after a match, she went forth again. Where to ask? One house looked as forbidding as another. Finally concluded to try the first.

      She knocked timidly and went in. A slatternly woman was giving supper to a half dozen children who were making a great deal of noise over it. The hurly-burly confused Matilda, and confused the poor woman too.

      "What do you want?" she asked shortly.

      "I came to see if you could lend me a tea-kettle for half an hour."

      "What do you want of my tea-kettle?"

      "I want only to boil some water."

      "Hush your noise, Sam Darcy!" said the woman to an urchin some ten years old who was clamouring for the potatoes – "Who for?"

      "To boil some water for Mrs. Eldridge."

      "You don't live here?"

      "No."

      "Well, my tea-kettle's in use, you see. The cheapest way 'd be for Mrs. Eldridge to get a tea-kettle for herself. Sam Darcy! if you lay a finger on them 'taters till I give 'em to you – "

      Matilda closed the door and went over the way. Here she found a somewhat tidy woman at work ironing. Nobody else in the room. She made known her errand. The woman looked at her doubtfully.

      "If I let you take my kettle, I don't know when I'll see it agin. Mis' Eldridge don't have the use of herself so 's she kin come over the street to bring