English to you, and I can talk French too. Shall we club together,
little mates?"

"But have you any money at all, Jography?" asked Cecile, puckering
her pretty brows anxiously; "and--and--are you a honest boy, Jography?"

"Well, ef you ain't a queer little lass! _I_ honest! I ain't
likely to rob from _you_; no, tho' I ha'n't no money--but ha'
you?"

"Yes, dear Jography, I have money," said Cecile, laying her hand on
the ragged sleeve; "I have some precious, precious money, as I must
give to Lovedy when I see her. If that money gets lost or stolen
Cecile will die. Oh, Jography! you won't, you won't take that money
away from me. Promise, promise!"

"I ain't a brute," said the boy. "Little un, I'd starve first!"

"I believe you, Jography," said Cecile; "and, Jography, me and
Maurice have a little other money to take us down south, and we are
to stay in the smallest villages, and sleep in the werry poorest
inns. Can you do that?"

"Why, yes, I think I can sleep anywhere; and ef you'll jest lend me
Toby there, I'll teach him to dance to my fiddling, and that'll earn
more sous than I shall want. Is it a bargain then? Shall I go with
you two mites and help you to find this ere Lovedy?"

"Jography, 'twas Jesus the Guide sent you," said Cecile, clasping
his hand.