to ever so. I'm only a little girl. But there's a great deal put on
me--a great, great care. I don't mind it now, 'cause of Jesus. But I
mustn't neglect it, must I?"

"No, darling: Only tell Mammie Moseley what it is."

"Oh! May I call you that?"

"Yes; for sure, love. Now tell me what's yer care, Cecile, honey."

"I can't, Mammie, I can't, though I'd like to. I had to tell Jane
Parsons. I had to tell her, and she was faithful. But I think I'd
better not tell even you again. Only 'tis a great care, and it means
a long journey, and going south. It means all that much for me, and
Maurice, and Toby."

"Going south? You mean to Devonshire, I suppose, child?"

"I don't know. Is there a place called Devonshire there, ma'am? But
we has to go to France--away down to the south of France--to the
Pyrenees."

"Law, child! Why, you don't never mean as you're going to cross the
seas?"

"Is that the way to France, Mammie Moseley? Oh! Do you _really_
know the way?"

"There's no other way that I ever hear tell on, Cecile. Oh, my dear,
you must not do that!"