"Did she tell you you were going anywhere?"
"Yes. She made me pack up my clothes, but that's all."
"Didn't you ask her?"
Matilda shook her head. "I never do ask Aunt Candy anything."
"Why?" said Norton, curiously.
"I don't like to—and she don't like to have me."
"She must be a nice woman to live with," said Norton. "You'll miss her badly, I should say. Aren't you sorry, Pink?" he asked, suddenly, taking Matilda's chin in his hand to watch the answer she would give. The answer, all smiling and blushing, contented Norton; and the next instant the gray ponies swept in at the iron gate and brought them before the house door.
Matilda jumped out of the carriage with a feeling of being in an impossible dream. But her boot felt the rough gravel of the roadway; the sun was shining still and warm on the lawn and the trees; the mid-country, rich-coloured with hues of autumn, lay glittering in light; the blue hills were over against her sleeping in haze; the gray ponies were trotting off round the sweep, and had left her and Norton standing before the house. It was all real and not a dream; and she turned to Norton who was watching her, with another smile so warm and glad, that the boy's face grew bright to see it. And then there was Mrs. Laval, coming out on the verandah.
"My dear child!" she exclaimed, folding Matilda in her arms. "My dear child! I have had hard work to get you; but here you are."
"Mamma, she did not know she was coming," said Norton, "till I came for her."