"Oh, yes! my deary, I'm very smart indeed at picking up a tale. You tell me all about Lovedy, Cecile." Thus admonished, Cecile did tell her tale. All that long sad story which the dying woman had poured into the child's listening ears was now told again to the wondering and excited cook. Jane listened with her mouth open and her eyes staring. If there was anything under the sun she dearly, dearly loved, it was a romance, and here was one quite unknown in her experience. Cecile told her little story in childish and broken words--words which were now and then interrupted by sobs of great pain--but she told it with the power which earnestness always gives. "I'll never find Lovedy now; I've broken my promise--I've broken my promise," she said in conclusion. "Well," answered Jane, drawing a long breath when the story was over, "that is interesting, and the queerest bit of a tale I ever set my two ears to listen to. Oh, yes! I believes you, child. You ain't one as'll tell lies--and that I'm gospel sure on. And so yer poor stepmother wanted you not to let Lydia Purcell clap her eyes on that purse. Ah, poor soul! she knew her own sister well." "Yes, Jane, she said I'd never see it again if Aunt Lydia found it out. Oh, Jane! I did think I had hid the purse so very, very secure." "And so you had, deary--real beautiful, and if it hadn't been for that horrid inventory, it might ha' lain there till doomsday. But now do tell me, Cecile--for I am curious, and that I won't go for to deny--suppose as you hadn't lost that purse, however 'ud a little mite like you go for to look for Lovedy?" "Oh, Jane! the purse is lost, and I can never do it now--never until I can earn it all back again my own self. But I'd have gone to France--me and Maurice and Toby had it all arranged quite beautiful--we were going to France this very winter. Lovedy is quite safe to be in France; and you know, Jane, me and Maurice ain't little English children. We are just a little French boy and girl; so we'd be sure to get on well in our own country, Jane." "Yes, yes, for sure," said Jane, knowing nothing whatever of France, but much impressed with Cecile's manner; "there ain't no doubt as you're a very clever little girl, Cecile, and not the least bit English. I dare say, young as you are, that you would find Lovedy, and it seems a real pity as it couldn't be." "I wanted the guide Jesus very much to go with us," said Cecile, raising her earnest eyes and fixing them on Jane's face. "If _He_ had come, we'd have been sure to find Lovedy. For me and Maurice, we are very young to go so far by ourselves. Do you know anything about that guide, Jane? Mistress Bell said when she was alive, that He took people into the New Jerusalem and into the Celestial City. But she never heard of His being a guide to anybody into France. I think 'tis a great, great pity, don't you?" Now Jane was a Methodist. But she was more, she was also a Christian.