“We will ask Bertram about little Allumette when he comes home,” said Eva, “and if he thinks it a good plan we could have her over here whilst your picture was being painted, Cora.”
“Little Allumette,” said the young barrister when appealed to at dinner that evening, “why, I should think you could get her, and that she would think herself in the seventh heaven to come! Oh, yes, I have asked her about herself sometimes. Her relationships are rather complicated. Her own father and mother are dead, and she lives with a stepmother who has married again. I like the little puss! She has always a smile and a bit of arch fun. Sometimes she brings me a button-hole when times are good. We are great friends in our way, little Allumette and I.”
“Then I will come into town with you to-morrow, Bertram, and see if she will do for me, and what arrangements I can make.”
“I’ll come too,” added Madge gaily; “I will give my valuable assistance in the matter, since it was my idea to start with.”
Brother and sisters went up to town together the following day, and sure enough there was little Allumette with her tray of matches at the accustomed corner, eagerly scanning the faces of the passing crowd, to see if her gentleman was amongst them.
Cora was delighted with the little bright, sensitive face, and when the child caught sight not only of Bertram himself, but of the lady who had made her that wonderful present, she was at once resolved to get the little one for her model, and soon Allumette was overwhelmed with shy delight, because the gentleman and two beautiful ladies had stopped in front of her.
“Allumette,” said her friend with a twinkle in his eye, “do you know how to sit or stand very still?”
“Please, sir, I think so. I sit still with baby very often.”
“And what do you get for sitting still with baby?”
“I don’t get anything, sir, unless baby wakes up, and then I sometimes get a clout on the head.”