“Give them all the personal friendliness we can and help them to outgrow their evil natures.”
“It will take generations of refining influences to do that, I am afraid. So much clings to the flesh that is bred in the bone.”
“True; but we are to-day only small factors in the great scheme of human civilization. What we leave unfinished other hands may take up. In any event, whether of failure or success, we three, weird fates maybe,” said Gilbert with a smile, “we know that for us happiness lies in doing what we can to lighten the heavy load of oppression and injustice under which our brothers are groaning.”
“Amen!” exclaimed Elsie, printing a resounding kiss upon Gilbert’s cheek. “You look like another Savonarola, only a trifle handsomer, I must admit.”
“Give me the inspiration of his genius and the force of his eloquence, and I’ll will you my good looks.”
“Thanks! Herbert says I’ll do as I am,” she exclaimed, drawing herself up to her full height and flushing and dimpling as roguishly as a mischievous child.
“By the way, Elsie, how are you and your millionaire lover going to reconcile the very opposite views you hold on various vital questions?”
Elsie’s face grew sober instantly. “I don’t like to think about it, Gilbert. I’m so happy now that I’m only waiting. Perhaps—some time—God knows!” and tears routed the smiles on the volatile face.
“There! don’t worry about it,” said Gilbert. “He’s a jolly good fellow, anyhow, and we wouldn’t be any worse than a number of well-known personages of history if we let conscience succumb to the narcotizing influence of his pieces of silver.”
There was an unusual twinkle in the eyes of the sober Gilbert, which provoked Elsie to say: “Go to, thou reformer! What need hast thou of any man’s silver?”