"Not a thing," said Mrs. Laval. "Not a movement."
"And she is so dainty," said Norton. "She is just as particular as you are, mamma."
"Or as my boy is," said his mother, putting her other hand upon his bright locks. "You are my own boy for that."
"Mamma," Norton went on, "I want you to give Pink to me."
"Yes, I know what that means," said his mother. "That will do until you get to school and are going on skating parties every other day; then you will like me to take her off your hands."
Norton however did not defend himself. He kissed his mother, and then stooped down and kissed the sleeping little face on her lap.
"Mamma, she is so funny!" he said. "She actually puzzles her head with questions about rich and poor people, and the reforms there ought to be in the world; and she thinks she ought to begin the reforms, and I ought to carry them on. It's too jolly."
"It will be a pleasure to see her pleasure in New York."
"Yes, won't it! Mamma, nobody is to take her first to the Central Park but me."
The questions about rich and poor were likely to give Matilda a good deal to do. She had been too sleepy that night to think much of anything; but the next day, when she was putting her five dollars in her pocket-book, they weighed heavy.