“Tante Pauline told me that I must never, never speak of Good Children Street nor of any one that lived there, and that I must never tell any one my name, nor where I lived.”
“Poor child!” said Margaret to Paichoux. “There must have been some serious reason for so much secrecy. Yes, I agree with you that there’s a mystery which we must try to clear up, but I would rather wait a little while. Jane has a friend who is very rich and very influential—Mrs. Lanier, the banker’s wife. She is absent in Washington, and when she returns I’ll consult with her, and we’ll see what’s best to be done. I shouldn’t like to take any important step until then. But in the meantime, Mr. Paichoux, it will do no harm to put your plan in operation. I think the idea is good, and in this way we can work together.”
Then Paichoux promised to begin his investigations at once, for he was certain that they would bring about some good results, and that, before many months had passed, Mother Margaret would have one orphan less to care for.
While Margaret and Paichoux were discussing these important matters, Tante Modeste and Lady Jane were talking as fast as their tongues could fly. The child heard for the first time about poor Mam’selle Diane’s loss, and her eyes filled with tears of sympathy for her gentle friend. And then, there were Pepsie and Madelon, Gex and Tite—did they remember her and want to see her? Oh, how glad she was to hear from them all again; and Tante Modeste cried a little when Lady Jane told of that terrible midnight ride, of the wretched home she had been carried to, of her singing and begging in the streets, of her cold and hunger, and of the blow she had received as the crowning cruelty.
“But the worst of all was losing Tony. Oh, Tante Modeste!” and the tears sprang to her eyes, “I’m afraid I’ll never, never find him!”
“Yes, you will, my dear. I’ve faith to believe you will,” replied Tante Modeste hopefully.
“We’ve found you, ma petite, and now we’ll find the bird. Don’t fret about it.”
Then after Margaret had promised to take Lady Jane to Good Children Street the next day, the good couple went away well pleased with what they had accomplished.
Tante Modeste could not return home until she had told Pepsie as well as little Gex the good news. And Mam’selle Diane’s sad heart was greatly cheered to know that the dear child was safe in the care of the good Margaret. And oh, what bright hopes and plans filled the lonely hours of that evening, as she sat dreaming on her little gallery in the pale, cold moonlight!
The next day Pepsie cried and laughed together when Lady Jane sprang into her arms and embraced her with her old fervor. “You’re just the same,” she said, holding the child off and looking at her fondly; “that is, your face hasn’t changed; but I don’t like your hair braided, and I don’t like your clothes. I must get Mother Margaret to let me dress you as I used to.”