"There's nobody but me," said Matilda.
The woman brought the broom, and, as she gave it, asked, "Who sent you to do all this?"
"Nobody."
"What made you come, then? It's queer play for a child like you."
"Somebody must do it, you know," said Matilda; and she ran away.
But Sabrina's words recurred to her. It was queer play. But then, who would do it? And it was not for Mrs. Eldridge alone. She brushed away with a good heart, while the poor old woman was hovering over the chair on which her supper was set, munching bread and herring with a particularity of attention which shewed how good a good meal was to her. Matilda did not disturb her, and she said never a word to Matilda; till, just as the little girl had brought all the sweepings of the floor to the threshold, where they lay in a heap, and another stroke of the broom would have scattered them into the street, the space outside the door was darkened by a figure, the sight of which nearly made the broom fly out of Matilda's hand. Nobody but Mr. Richmond stood there. The two faces looked mutual pleasure and surprise at each other.
"Mr. Richmond!"
"What are you doing here, Tilly?"
"Mr. Richmond, can you step over this muss? I will have it away directly."
Mr. Richmond stepped in, looked at the figure by the stove, and then back at Matilda. The little girl finished her sweeping and came back, to receive a warm grasp of the hand from her minister; one of the things Matilda liked best to get.