"Live the sort of life He lived. He says we must follow Him."
"Well, how, for instance? In what?"
"You know how He lived," said Matilda. "He helped people, and He taught people, and He cured people; He was always doing good to people, and trying to make them good. Especially poor, miserable people, that nobody cared for."
"Trying to make them good!" said Mrs. Candy. "As if His omnipotence could not have made them good in a minute."
"Then why didn't He?" said Matilda, simply. "It sounds as if He was trying to make them good."
"Well, child—it's no use talking; I wish I had had the training of you earlier," said Mrs. Candy. "You are so prepossessed with ideas that border on fanaticism, that it is a hard matter to get you into right habits of thinking. Come here and take your darning."
So Matilda did. The darning was not wearisome at all to-day, so busy her thoughts were with the question of Mrs. Eldridge; how much or how little Matilda ought to do for her, how much she could, and what were the best arrangements to be set on foot. So intent she was on these questions, that the darning was done with the greatest patience, and therefore with the greatest success. Mrs. Candy and her daughter even looked at each other and smiled over the demure, thoughtful little face of the workwoman; and Matilda got praise for her work.
She had made up her mind meanwhile that "she hath done what she could"—should be her rule to go by. So as the after noon was fair, and Mrs. Candy and her daughter both gone to make a visit at some miles' distance, Matilda sallied forth.
"Did she give you leave?" Maria asked, as she saw her sister getting ready.
"No."