“Now, Matilda, that is too mean, even for you,” exclaimed the other, indignantly. “Shame on you, as Grace really copied the letter, she should at least have the privilege of distributing the money; here she comes now. Grace, in what way ought uncle’s donation to be applied—you are the proper person to decide, and prevent Matilda from the selfishness she contemplates, in bestowing it all upon herself and me.” Her sister crimsoned with anger, but Grace spoke. “I am sure you do Matilda injustice, Sophy; she would never act so deliberate a falsehood; as she told her uncle it should be applied to charity, she will certainly keep her word. And there is poor Mrs. Brown, the laundress, it would, indeed, be a charity to assist her—” “And begin by paying her bills,” interrupted Sophy. But her sister, rising angrily, exclaimed, “I will not be dictated to by either of you,” and hastily left the apartment. Uncle Medway had now been domesticated in the family for several weeks, and must, indeed, have been deaf, dumb and blind, to remain ignorant of the by-play going on around him. Secure in his entire deafness, Matilda frequently made use of her safety-valve aside; and once, when requested by her uncle to play, and she said to her sister, “I hope to have the pleasure of playing the Dead March for him ere long,” she caught his eye fixed upon her with such a severe glance, that a momentary doubt of his inability to hear made her tremble; but again assured by his bland manner toward her, she plied her fulsome flatteries more assiduously than ever. Grace often wondered how one so clear-headed in all other things, should be so easily imposed upon, while Sophy regarded her sister with undisguised contempt; and by way of offset, became more rude and impertinent than ever.