"Yes, I understand," said Lydia, "and I'm sure they ought to be
obliged to you, Mr. Preston. But should I not take steps about the
workhouse?"

"I will take the necessary steps when the time comes. Leave the
matter to me."

That evening Lydia called Cecile to her side.

"Look here, child, you have got a kind friend in Mr. Preston. He is
going to support you both here for a month longer. It is very good of
him, for you are nothing, either of you, but little beggar brats, as
your cousin in France won't send any more money."

"Our cousin in France won't send any more money!" repeated Cecile.
Her face grew very pale, her eyes fell to the ground; in a moment she
raised them.

"Where are we to go at the end of the month, Aunt Lydia Purcell?"

"To the workhouse."

"You said before it was to the Union."

"Yes, child, yes; 'tis all the same."

But here Maurice, who had been busy playing with Toby and apparently
not listening to a single word, scrambled up hastily to his feet and
came to Cecile's side.