pucker of surprise on her pretty brow.

"You think as I couldn't, Missie dear, and why not? I'm much
stronger than you."

"No, Joe, _you_ couldn't steal my purse of gold," continued
Cecile, still speaking quietly and without a trace of fear. "Aunt
Lydia Purcell could have taken it away, and I dreaded her most
terribly, and I would not tell dear Mrs. Moseley, nor Mr. Danvers,
who was so good and kind; I would not tell them, for I was afraid
somebody else might hear, or they might think me too young, and take
away the purse for the present. But _you_ could not touch it,
Jography, for if you did anything so dreadful, dreadful mean as that,
your heart would break, and you would not care for your mother to pet
you, and if your big brother were an honest man, you would not like
to look at him. You would always think how you had robbed a little
girl that trusted you, and who had a great, great dreadful care on
her mind, and you would remember how Jesus the Guide had sent you to
that little girl to help her, and your heart would break. You could
not do it, Joe Barnes."

Here Cecile returned her purse to its hiding place, and then sat
quiet, with her hands folded before her.

Nothing could exceed the dignity and calm of the little creature.
The homeless and starved French boy, looking at her, felt a sudden
lump rising in his throat;--a naturally warm and chivalrous nature
made him almost inclined to worship the pretty child. For a moment
the great lump in his throat prevented him speaking, then, falling on
his knees, he took Cecile's little hand in his.