"What's the matter?" said Mrs. Lloyd,—"pepper there too?"
"It is very hot, ma'am," said Matilda, while Judy burst out laughing.
"Curry always is hot, child," said the old lady. "Why do you take it, if you do not like it?"
"I like it very much, grandmamma; only to-day—"
"It is not any hotter than usual, to-day. You should know what you want before you take it. You can make your dinner of rice, then."
The rice was as hot as the rest of it, Matilda thought. She could not eat; and she was hungry, for she had had a good walk and a brisk lesson in Sunday school; but the fiery portion on her plate quite baffled her hunger. She was never helped to pudding or pie more than once; she went hungry to bed.
That did her no harm; but it happened again and again that, if not starved, she was at least disappointed of eating something she liked, or had something she did eat, spoiled by its seasoning. Very indulgent as Mrs. Lloyd was about things in general, respecting table manners and all the etiquette of graceful behaviour at meal times she was exceedingly particular. She did not allow the young people to make any ado about what they eat. She gave them liberty enough of choice, but once the choice made, it was made; and mistakes were at the person's own risk. So when Matilda's salad was very spicy with cinnamon, or her ice cream excessively and unaccountably salt, or her oysters seemed to have been under a heavy shower of red pepper, there was no resource but to be quiet; unless she would have made a scene; as it was, she got credit for being fanciful and very dainty.
Weeks passed before she and David could be alone together; eager and curious and sympathetic as she was. David did not change; the gloom of his troublesome thoughts hung over him, she could see, all the while; though nobody else seemed to notice it. At last, one evening in March, it fell out that all the family were going to the theatre. Even Mrs. Lloyd; for some particular attraction was just then drawing crowds to the nightly spectacle; and Norton and Judy had put in their claim to be allowed to go, and it had been granted. David was invited, but he refused without ceremony. Mrs. Laval turned to Matilda; and Mrs. Lloyd asked graciously if she would like to go? Now Matilda would have liked very much to go, on one side of the question; yet her answer was a grateful negative.
"What's the reason?" said the old lady. "It is no use asking for Davy's reasons, for they are sure to be immovable; but you, Tilly, what's the matter with you? Were you ever there?"
"No, ma'am, never."