“Gracious! what a lecture!” cried Madge gaily. “I thought you’d be pleased at my desiring to do a good work; and, behold, I get a scolding!” [Illustration: Decorative image] CHAPTER III. WONDERFUL DAYS. The growth of that picture was a source of endless wonder and delight to little Allumette. Her naïve remarks amused the ladies vastly, and the child became, perhaps, more of a pet with them all than was quite advisable, considering the circumstances of the case. To live in an atmosphere of warmth and colour; to be spoken to kindly and gently; to hear and see only pleasant things from morning till night, all this was a perfect delight to the little one, and she throve and blossomed out in the genial influence in a way that was wonderful to watch. She was not admitted to the house itself, only to the studio by the little garden door; and she had that sense of native refinement which hindered her from taking liberties, or trading upon the kindness of the ladies. To watch them with their books or needlework, to hear Miss Madge sing and play upon the studio piano, or to sit on a little stool beside one or the other, learning little lessons which they would teach her, constituted such pleasure that she never desired anything more; and even the sitting still for the picture was no trouble to the child. There was always something pretty to look at, and Miss Madge was often practising her music, and that always filled the child’s whole soul with delight. Her horizon was widening every day. Madge had discovered that she was very anxious to be able to read nicely, and thought she could not do better than devote some of her leisure in teaching her. And she got big-print fairy stories, which entranced Allumette and lured her along the path of learning faster than her teacher had dared to hope; and when left alone in the studio, the child would pore over one of these charming volumes, till she began to read the letterpress quite easily. Then young Mrs. Clayton had lessons to give her of a different sort. “The poor mite is almost a little heathen,” she had said to her husband a few days after the experiment of the little model had begun. “She seems to know nothing of religion, except what she has picked up from an old cobbler and his wife, who read the Bible in her hearing sometimes, and tell her a few elementary truths, which she has got jumbled up in a very odd way. I must try and teach her a little better. Don’t you think it would be a good plan, Bertram?” “Yes, I think that kind of knowledge never comes except as a blessing,” answered her husband gravely; “but have a care, Eva, and keep an eye over the sisters, that they do not spoil the poor little thing, making her life harder to her when she goes back to it. I am not quite sure that the experiment is not rather a dangerous one to Allumette. She will be so happy here, and the life of the streets will come so hardly afterwards!”