"No, I know you didn't. But I wanted to come and see you, Mrs. Eldridge."
"What fur? You're a little gal, bain't you?"
"Yes, ma'am; and I thought maybe you would like to have me read a chapter in the Bible to you."
"A what?" said the old woman with strong emphasis.
"A chapter in the Bible. I thought—perhaps you couldn't see to read it yourself."
"Read?" said the old creature. "Never could. I never could see to read, for I never knowed how. No, I never knowed how; I didn't."
"You would like to hear reading, now, wouldn't you? I came to read to you a chapter—if you'll let me—out of the Bible."
"A chapter?" the old woman repeated—"what's a chapter now? It's no odds; 'taint bread, nor 'taint 'baccy."
"No, it is not tobacco," said Matilda; "but it is better than tobacco."
"Couldn't ye get me some 'baccy, now?" said the old woman, as if with a sudden thought. But Matilda did not see her way clear to that; and the hope failing, the failure of everything seemed to be expressed in a long-drawn "heigh-ho!" which ran wearily down all the notes of the gamut. Matilda felt she was not getting on. The place and the woman were inexpressibly forlorn to her.