Cranford I went to see her, much wondering what the house would be
like without Miss Jenkyns, and rather dreading the changed aspect
of things. Miss Matty began to cry as soon as she saw me. She was
evidently nervous from having anticipated my call. I comforted her
as well as I could; and I found the best consolation I could give
was the honest praise that came from my heart as I spoke of the
deceased. Miss Matty slowly shook her head over each virtue as it
was named and attributed to her sister; and at last she could not
restrain the tears which had long been silently flowing, but hid
her face behind her handkerchief and sobbed aloud.

"Dear Miss Matty," said I, taking her hand--for indeed I did not
know in what way to tell her how sorry I was for her, left deserted
in the world. She put down her handkerchief and said -

"My dear, I'd rather you did not call me Matty. She did not like
it; but I did many a thing she did not like, I'm afraid--and now
she's gone! If you please, my love, will you call me Matilda?"

I promised faithfully, and began to practise the new name with Miss
Pole that very day; and, by degrees, Miss Matilda's feeling on the
subject was known through Cranford, and we all tried to drop the
more familiar name, but with so little success that by-and-by we
gave up the attempt.

My visit to Miss Pole was very quiet. Miss Jenkyns had so long
taken the lead in Cranford that now she was gone, they hardly knew
how to give a party. The Honourable Mrs Jamieson, to whom Miss
Jenkyns herself had always yielded the post of honour, was fat and
inert, and very much at the mercy of her old servants. If they