“He is wise indeed who always succeeds in doing it.”
The doctor at once set himself to supervising the laying in of the drain, the painting and papering of the little house, and the trimming and pruning of the tangle of vines and bushes in the garden. With the aid of Gilbert, a bright lad of sixteen, the untidy place soon came to assume an air of neatness and thrift which at once impressed Mr. Smith with the idea that his tenants were people on whom it might be worth while to expend a little civility.
It was the first of March, raw, cold, and inhospitable, when, with their household belongings, the little party was set down at the door of the new home. It was late in the afternoon and all were cold, tired, and somewhat dispirited. Even the doctor’s equanimity was beginning to give way before the settled obstinacy of a refractory stove-pipe, when a brisk knock at the door of the sitting-room interrupted operations for a moment. Margaret opened the door, to be greeted with the cheery voice of a little black-eyed woman who stepped in without waiting for an invitation. “Good-efening to you all,” she cried. “I am Lizzette Minaud. I lif ze next door, and I haf prepared ze souper for you. Do not say ‘Non!’ I take it so amiss. You look so blue, so tired, so ready to cry, pauvre child,” and she laid her hand warmly upon Margaret’s arm as she spoke.
“You are very kind, but——” and Margaret glanced apprehensively at the doctor.
“Oh, your—your—ze gentilhomme will go, I am sure. I haf known how ze tired comes in mofing, and you sall work so mooch ze better when you haf supped. I keep you only so long as you sall need ze rest and refreshment.”
“A thousand thanks,” said the doctor heartily. “To be sure we will go. Gilbert, you and I can have a good deal more patience with this unruly stove-pipe after we have partaken of this lady’s supper, eh?”
“I can’t answer for you, sir, but I know I am hungry as a wolf.”
“So mooch ze better. Hunger ees ze sauce piquante to black bread.”
“Did you ever feed a boy?” interposed Elsie, glancing roguishly at Gilbert. “If not, I warn you beforehand.”
“Non, non. I do not need ze warning. Lizzette Minaud’s table ees nefer empty.”