"Who sent ye fur to come here?" was next asked.
"Nobody sent me."
"What fur did ye come?"
"I thought you would like to hear a little reading."
"'Taint a song, is it? I used fur to hear songs oncet; they don't sing songs in this village. They sells good 'baccy, though. Heigh-ho!"
Matilda grew desperate. She was not making any headway. As a last expedient, she opened her book, plunged into the work, and gave in the hearing of Mrs. Eldridge a few of its wonderful sentences. Maybe those words would reach her, thought Matilda. She read slowly the twenty-third psalm, and then went back to the opening verse and read it again.
"'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.'"
Mrs. Eldridge had been very still.
"A shepherd," she repeated, when Matilda had stopped;—"he used fur to be a shepherd."
Matilda wondered very much what the old lady was thinking of. Her next words made it clearer.