To be hotly taken up by Mrs.
Minchin meant an equally hot quarrel at no very distant date.

The squabble with the bride was not slow to come, but Matilda and I fell out first.

I think she was tyrannical, and I know I was peevish.

My Ayah spoilt me; I spoke very broken English, and by no means understood all that the Bullers said to me; besides which, I was feverishly unhappy at intervals about my father.
It was two months before Mrs.Minchin found out that her sweet little puss was a deceitful little cat; but at the end of two days I had offended Matilda, and we plunged into a war of words such as children wage when they squabble.
"I won't show you any more of my dresses," said Matilda.
"I've seen them all," I boldly asserted; and the stroke told.
"You don't know that," said Matilda.
"Yes, I do." "No, you don't." "Well, show me the others then." "No, that I won't." "I don't care." "I've got a blue silk coming out from England," Matilda continued, "but you haven't." "I've got a pink silk here," said I, "and pink shoes." "Ah, but you can't wear them now your papa's dead," said Matilda; "Mamma says you will have to wear black for twelve months." I am sure Matilda did not mean to be cruel, but this blow cut me deeply.
I remember the tide of misery that seemed to flood over my mind, to this day.

I was miserable because my father was dead, and I could not go to him for comfort.