In any case the Lizzie worshipped with a primitive and unashamed and
enduring adoration, which stood even the test of fear. That was the
supreme test for the Tin Lizzie, who was a coward of cowards. Rather
cruelly I bet John on a day that his satellite did not love him enough
to go out to the club-house alone for him, and the next day John was in
sore need of tobacco, not to be got nearer than the club.

"Aristophe will go out and get it for me," he announced as
Aristophe--the Lizzie--trotted about the table at lunch-time purveying
us flapjacks.

The Tin Lizzie stood rooted a second, petrified at the revolutionary
scheme of his going to the club, companions unmentioned. There one saw
as if through glass an idea seeking a road through his smooth gray
matter. One had always gone to the club with Josef, or Maxime or
Pierre--certainly M'sieur meant that; one would of course be glad to
go--with Josef or Maxime or Pierre--to get tobacco for M'sieur John. Of
course, the idea slid through the old road in the almost unwrinkled gray
matter, and came safely to headquarters.

"C'est bien, M'sieur," answered the Lizzie smiling brightly.

And with that I knocked the silly little smile into a cocked hat. "You
may start early tomorrow, Aristophe," I said, "and get back by dark,
going light, I can't spare any other men to go with you. But you will
certainly not mind going alone--to get tobacco for M'sieur John."

The poor Tin Lizzie turned red and then white, and his weak mouth fell
open and his eyebrows lifted till the whites of his eyes showed above
the gray irises. And one saw again, through the crystal of his