"Are falling stars all full of men and women?" asked George. "There were none on a star that my father saw fall on the Dingleford road," observed Phoebe. "It wasn't big enough to hold men and women." "Did it fall in the middle of the road?" asked George, turning from the window. "What was it like?" "It was a round thing, as big as a house, and all bright and crystal like," said Phoebe, with absolute confidence. "It blocked up the road from the great oak that you may remember, close by the second milestone, to the ditch on the opposite side." "Phoebe, are you sure of that?" asked Mrs Enderby, with a face full of anxious doubt. "Ma'am, my father came straight home after seeing it fall, and he let my brother John and me go the next morning early, to bring home some of the splinters." "Oh, well," said Mrs Enderby, who always preferred believing to doubting; "I have heard of stones falling from the moon." "This was a falling star, ma'am." "Can you show me any of the splinters?" asked George, eagerly. "There was nothing whatsoever left of them," said Phoebe, "by the time John and I went. We could not find a piece of crystal so big as my thimble. My father has often laughed at John and me since, for not having been there in time, before it was all gone." "It is a good thing, my dears, depend upon it, as I was saying," observed Mrs Enderby, "to know all such things about the stars, and so on, against the time when you cannot do as you like, and go where you please. Matilda, my jewel, when you are married, as you were talking about, and can please yourself, you will take great care to be kind to your mamma, my dear, if poor mamma should be old and ill. You will always wish to be tender to your mother, love, I am sure; and that will do her more good than anything." "Perhaps mamma won't be ill," replied Matilda. "Then if she is never ill, she will certainly be old, some day; and then you will be as kind to her as ever you can be,--promise me, my love. Your mamma loves you dearly, Matilda." "She says I dance better than any girl in Miss Anderson's school, grandmamma. I heard her tell Mrs Levitt so, yesterday." "Here comes mamma," said George, from the window. "Your mamma, my dear? Phoebe, sweep up the hearth. Hang that curtain straight. Give me that letter,--no, not that,--the large letter. There! now put it into my knitting-basket. Make haste down, Phoebe, to be ready to open the door for Mrs Rowland. Don't keep her waiting a moment on the steps." "She has not got to the steps yet," said George. "She is talking to Mrs Grey. Mrs Grey was coming here, and mamma went and spoke to her. Oh, Matilda, come and look how they are nodding their bonnets at each other! I think Mrs Grey is very angry, she wags her head about so. There! now she is going away. There she goes across the road! and mamma is coming up the steps."