"Fourteen," said Maria, "That half we shall be expecting them."
"Well, we've got to go in and put the house in order, first thing," said Matilda. "Let's make haste."
"Then I'll let the kitchen fire go out," said Maria; "and we'll dine on bread and butter, and cold potatoes. I like cold potatoes; don't you?"
"No," said Matilda; "but I don't care what we have. I'll have bread and butter and cold coffee, Maria; let us save the coffee. That will do."
With these arrangements made, the day began. The two girls flew round in a kind of glee to put the rooms up and get all the work done out of the way. Work was a kind of play that morning. Then they agreed to take their dinner early and dress themselves. Maria was going out after that to see some friends and have some fun, she said. Matilda on her part had a sort of faint hope that to-day, when it would be so opportune, it might happen that Norton Laval would come to see what had become of her. She was almost afraid to go out and lose the chance; though, to be sure, it was only the ghost of a chance. Yet for that ghost of a chance she did linger and wait in the house for an hour or two after Maria had gone out. Then it began to press upon her that her aunt had ordered her to get some strawberries from Mr. Sample's for tea; she was uneasy till it was done, and at last took her hat and her basket and resolved to run round into Butternut Street and get that off her mind.
She was standing in Mr. Sample's shop, patiently waiting until her turn should come to be served, when a hand was laid upon her shoulder.
"How do you do, Tilly? You are grown a stranger."
"O Mr. Richmond!" was Matilda's startled response. And it was more startled than glad.
"What is the matter? you look as if I had frightened you,—almost," said the minister, smiling. Matilda did not say what was the matter.
"Have you been quite well?"