"I was thinking how sweet the water is."
"You?" said David, with a depth of astonishment which might have made her laugh if she had not been so frightened. "You? what do you know of them, or think you know? These words belong to the time of Messiah ben David."
"Yes," said Matilda.
"What do you think you know about them?"
Matilda thought within herself that here was the end of David's friendship for her. Her heart sank, yet she spoke as before.
"I have drawn water out of them, David; and I know that the water is sweet."
He stood and looked at her, as if he were full of something to say; but perhaps he guessed at her reference, or perhaps he saw her too feeble to be attacked with exciting topics. He shut his mouth and said nothing; and just then the servant entered bearing the tray with Matilda's supper. That made a nice diversion. I think David was glad of it. At any rate he made himself useful; brought up the little table to Matilda's side; set the tea-pot out of her way and spread her napkin on her lap. Then, hearing that Mrs. Laval was detained downstairs, he took the management of things upon himself. He made Matilda's cup of tea; he spread bread and butter; he opened oysters. Nobody could have done it better; but it was always acknowledged that David Bartholomew was born a gentleman. Matilda enjoyed it hugely. She was ready for her oysters, as a little convalescent child should be; and bread and butter was good; but to have David helping her and ministering to her gave to both an exquisite flavour. He was so nice about it, and it was so kind of him.
"That other supper has been sadly put off, hasn't it?" he said as he opened Matilda's last oyster.
"What supper?" said Matilda.
"The supper we had arranged so finely, a long while ago. The celebration of your good woman's moving in."