"But you'd like to pick flowers--pretty, pretty flowers growing by
the waysides; and there'd be lots of sunshine all day long. It would
not be like England, it would be down South."

"Is it warm down South?" asked Maurice.

"Why, Maurice, of course, that was where our father lived and where
our own, own mother died; 'tis lovely, lovely down South."

"Then I don't mind walking, Cecile; let's set of South at once."

"Oh! I wish--I wish we could, darling. We have very little money,
Maurice; 'tis most important for me and you and Toby to go to France
as soon as possible. But I don't know the way. The cabby said
something about Jography. If Jography is a person, _he_ knows
the way to France. I should like to find Jography, and when we get to
France, I have a hope, a great hope, that Jesus the Guide will come
with us. Yes, I do think He will come."

"That's Him as you said was in the dark in our attic?"

"Yes, that's the same; and do you know He came into the dark of that
other dreadful attic again last night, and 'twas He told the woman to
take us out and give us those much nicer lodgings. Oh, Maurice! I
_do_ think, yes, I do think, after His doing that, that He has
quite made up His mind to take us to France."

Maurice was silent. His baby face looked puzzled and thoughtful.
Suddenly he sprang to his feet. His eyes were bright. He was