And so Eva Clayton began giving the little waif of the streets simple Bible lessons every day, in which the child came to apprehend the mystery of Christ’s redeeming love, and to believe that He loved her and was taking care of her, and wanted her to be a faithful little follower of His, that some day she might live with Him in His beautiful kingdom for ever and ever.
It was easy for Allumette to believe in this love and care now. She would look up at Mrs. Clayton with shining eyes and say—
“I think it must have been Jesus who sent me here. I shall always love Him for that.”
On Sundays she was taken to church by the gardener’s wife, who had made her a neat little frock and had soon taught her to wear the shoes and stockings provided by the ladies. Truth to tell, Allumette preferred running barefoot, as she was used to in the streets, although she had some old shoes and had put them on to come down here. But the footgear provided for her was so much more comfortable than what she had been used to that she soon grew reconciled to it, and she realised that it would not be at all proper to go about barefoot here.
She did not understand the services on Sunday, but she loved the sound of the organ and the glow of light through the painted windows. Her behaviour was irreproachable, and afterwards Mrs. Clayton would try and explain to her the meaning of what she had heard and seen, so that the child had food for much thought and reflection.
On Sundays too she always saw her “gentleman,” as she always called Mr. Clayton in her thoughts. He would come into the studio and ask her what she had been learning in the week, and soon Allumette had a little bit of poetry or a few verses from the Bible ready to repeat to him. He generally had some little gift for her in return, and these were the red-letter days in her calendar above all others.
The picture was finished in due course; and when the tea-party was given in the studio, and all the artist’s friends were asked to come and see it, Allumette was permitted to be present, to hand round cakes and bread and butter; and people patted her head and asked if she were a little model, and one lady took a great deal of notice of her, and presently got Cora into a corner and began eagerly talking to her.
“If you would only do me some illustrations for the book I am writing, and use that child as the model for my little heroine, I should like it so much! I could easily arrange with the editor about the illustrations; and she has exactly the face I want. Do you think you could manage it for me, Cora?”
The girl’s face lighted eagerly.
“Oh, Mrs. Maberley—I should love it! I have often longed to do illustrating; and to illustrate one of your books would be delightful! I will keep the child a few more weeks, and you shall tell me just what you would like each picture to be. She is a dear little model, and I shall like keeping her. I have quite a number of studies I have taken when she has been having lessons from Eva and Madge. I will get my portfolio and show you.”