"Well, go on. It is for yourself in one way. Say what, of all you can think of, would give you most pleasure."
Matilda's hands came together with a certain pang of hope, as she answered.
"If I could make somebody comfortable that I know of;—a poor, good girl, who is not comfortable at all."
"One of your sisters?"
"O no, ma'am; no relation."
"What is the matter with her, and how could you make her comfortable?"
"She is a very poor girl," said Matilda, so eager that she did not know what to bring out first;—"she lives in a cellar room with a wet mud floor, and no bed to sleep on that is like a bed; of course she cannot be very clean, nor have any comfort at all; and I should like to make them comfortable."
"Who is she?"
"A very poor girl, that goes to Sunday school. But she is very good."
"Does she live there alone?"