"I know not the way I am going',
But well do I know my Guide."




CHAPTER I.

ON THE SAND HILL.


There is an old saying which tells us that there is a special
Providence over the very young and the very old. This old-world
saying was specially proved in the cases of Maurice and Cecile. How
two creatures so young, so inexperienced, should ever find themselves
in a foreign land, must have remained a mystery to those who did not
hold this faith.

Cecile was eight, Maurice six years old; the dog, of no age in
particular, but with a vast amount of canine wisdom, was with them.
He had walked with them all the way from London to Dover. He had
slept curled up close to them in two or three barns, where they had
passed nights free of expense. He had jumped up behind them into
loaded carts or wagons when they were fortunate enough to get a lift,
and when they reached Dover he had wandered with them through the
streets, and had found himself by their sides on the quay, and in
some way also on board the boat which was to convey them to France.
And now they were in France, two miles outside Calais, on a wild,