"I don't suppose I could give you anything you would like to eat. Where will you get your dinner then?"
"Somewhere with Norton."
"Then you didn't bring it with you?"
"No."
Matilda did not feel that it would do to-day, to invite Maria to go with them to the restaurant. Norton had said nothing about it; and in Maria's peculiar mood Matilda could not tell how she might behave herself or what she would say. Perhaps Maria expected it, but she could not help that. The time was a silent one between the sisters, until the expected knock at the house door came. It was welcome, as well as expected. Matilda got up, feeling relieved if she felt also sorry; and after kissing Maria, she ran down-stairs and found herself in the fresh open air, taking long breaths, like a person that had been shut up in a close little stove-heated room. Which she had. And Norton's cheery voice was a delightful contrast to Maria's dismal tones. With busy steps, the two went up the street again to the restaurant. It was pretty full of people now; but Norton and Matilda found an unoccupied table in a corner. There a good dinner was brought them; and the two were soon equally happy in eating it and in discussing their garden arrangements. After they had dined, Norton ordered ice cream.
Matilda was as fond of ice cream as most children are who have very seldom seen it; but while she sat enjoying it she began to think again, why she should have it and Maria not have it? The question brought up the whole previous question that had been troubling her, about the rich and the poor, and quite gave a peculiar flavour to what she was tasting. She lost some of Norton's talk about bulbs.
"Norton," she exclaimed at last suddenly, "I have found it!"
"Found what?" said Norton. "Not a blue tulip?"
"No, not a blue tulip. I have found the answer to that question you asked me,—you know,—in the cars."
"I asked you five hundred and fifty questions in the cars," said Norton. "Which one?"