The Children's Pilgrimage by L. T. Meade
page 89 of 317 (28%)
page 89 of 317 (28%)
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that money--that money that had been saved and hoarded for a purpose,
and for such a purpose! Let Lydia spend the money that had, as Jane expressed it, a vow over it! Not if her sharp wits could prevent it. She thought over her plan as she bustled about and prepared the supper. Very glum she looked as she stepped quickly here and there, so much so that the dairymaid and the errand-boy chaffed her for her dull demeanor. Jane, however, hasty enough on most occasions, was too busy now with her own thoughts either to heed or answer them. Well she knew Lydia Purcell, equally well she knew that to tell Cecile's tale would be useless. Lydia cared for neither kith nor kin, and she loved money beyond even her own soul. But Jane, a clever child once, a clever woman now, had not been unobservant of some things in Lydia's past, some things that Lydia supposed to be buried in the grave of her own heart. A kind-hearted girl, Jane had never used this knowledge. But now knowledge was power. She would use it in Cecile's behalf. Ever since the finding of the purse, Lydia had been alone. In real or pretended indignation, she had left Cecile to get out of her faint as best she could. For six or seven hours she had now been literally without a soul to speak to. She was not, therefore, indisposed to chat with Jane--who was a favorite with her--when that handmaid brought in a carefully prepared little supper, and laid it by her side. |
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