"It is—that I don't drink wine, you know."
"What's that to do?" said Judy, while the two boys both looked at Matilda. "You haven't to drink or let it alone; it is not for your use anyhow."
"No, I know that; but I don't think it is right—I mean,—I mean," said Matilda, gathering courage, "I have promised to do all I can to prevent people from drinking wine. I can't help in such a present as this."
"They don't drink wine out of these little cups," said David. "It is something different; it is Noyau, or Curaçoa, or Chartreuse, or Maraschino, or some of those things, you know."
"Yes, but it is stronger," said Matilda in a low voice. "It's stronger than wine."
"She's temperance!" exclaimed Judith, turning round on one heel and coming back into position. "She's temperance! We are all wicked at Mrs. Lloyd's; we drink Hock and we sip Curaçoa. I suppose she has only been where people drink gin and lager; and she thinks it's all alike."
"She has been at Briery Bank, Judy," said Norton, "where the wines are as good as in Blessington Avenue."
"Then she ought to have learned better!" said Judy. "That's all I have to say."
"But Pink," said Norton, and he was very kind, though he looked vexed,—"this is not anything about your drinking or not drinking, you know. Grandmamma will have her wine and she will offer her cordial, just the same; it don't make any difference; only we want to give her something she will like, and she will like this; don't you see?"
"Yes, Norton, I see," said Matilda, her eyes filling with tears; "I am very sorry; but I wish you and David wouldn't have anything to do with wine, either."