Thereupon Margaret proceeded to state the plan and laws governing the Busy Fingers Club, whereby every member was to become an important factor in the great work of self-government and improvement. When all the details had been submitted, the children gathered around her enthusiastically. “It’s just the jolliest thing,” they cried. “We’ll work like tigers so long’s you’re our captain.”
And they did. Under Gilbert’s tutelage the boys developed skill and industry in wood-carving and amateur cabinet work, while the girls from big to little grew deft in the use of the needle, and lifted many a burden from the shoulders of tired mothers in timely patching and darning. Elsie became deeply interested in Margaret’s efforts, and begged silks and velvets from Mrs. Mason for the girls’ fancy work, which was one day supplemented by a huge bundle containing everything in the line of material for such work. The bundle was sent anonymously, and great was the wonder of the girls and Margaret as to its source. If Elsie guessed she was discreetly silent about it, although she was possessed of no small curiosity to know how the scheme had become so well advertised. Her wonder would have been greater, if her curiosity had been less, could she have seen the companion of Lizzette in her daily walks between market and station, and some times to the very door of Margaret’s hive of industry. Since the evening she had so resolutely refused to consider the possibility of association between them, Elsie had not encountered Herbert Lynn. Once or twice she had caught a glimpse of him in library or dining-room as she passed up-stairs to her daily interview with Mrs. Mason, but he had always seemed entirely unconscious of her proximity. Evidently the whim which had seized him had passed, and Elsie assured herself, with somewhat remarkable frequency, that she was glad the young man’s reason had returned, and that having been “baffled” at last, she hoped he would not be so boastful in the future.
One morning, some three weeks after Margaret’s removal to the city, Lizzette left Antoine at Margaret’s door with a hurried exclamation.
“I haf not ze moment to spare. I haf ze business engagement zis morning. I no return perhaps zese several hour. Delay not ze dinner for me,” and with a kiss upon Antoine’s cheek, she hastened down the stairs. Half-way up the block she gave a signal to a gentleman driving leisurely along on the opposite side of the street. A second later he drew rein at the curbstone, and alighting, assisted Lizzette to the seat beside him.
“O Herbeart!” she exclaimed, “I know not how to tank you. You haf given me ze hope once more. Mon Dieu! Eef eet be true ze light of my life vill shine again.”
“It is only a hope as yet,” he answered, “for I was not sufficiently posted about his case to enter into particulars. However, this morning’s interview will probably determine it.”
“And ze docteur assure you he tink Antoine can be made to walk?”
“There is a chance for him, he thinks, but it will be months of pain and tedium for the poor boy.”
“And after zat zen his music vill make him ze grand maestro, and I need not to toil till my hands—see!” and she drew off a shabby cotton glove, “be so like ze iron. Antoine ze grand maestro, and Lizzette ze—ze—lady,” and she gave an arch glance, half-smile and half-tear, up at Herbert’s sympathetic face. “Ah, eet ees ze dream of fairy land!”
Herbert smiled down at the wrinkled brown face with the affectionate sympathy of the old boyish days, and Lizzette grasped his hand and patted it softly. “Eet ees all so dear zat I haf mon garçon Herbeart to do zis for me in my old age. I could take ze loan—Antoine sall repay—from no one so easy as my Herbeart. Eet ees no offence zat I say eet seems like von of ze family?”