"That's a very shocking occurrence, Jane," she began.

"Eh?" said Jane.

"Why, that about the purse. Who would have thought of a young child
being so depraved? Of course the story is quite clear. Cecile poking
about, as children will, found the purse; but, unlike a child, hid
it, and meant to keep it. Well, to think that all this time I have
been harboring, and sheltering, and feeding, and all without a
sixpence to repay myself, a young thief! But wait till I tell Mr.
Preston. See how long he'll keep those children out of the workhouse
after this! Oh! no wonder the hardened little thing was in a state of
mind when I went to search the attics!"

"Heaven give me patience!" muttered Jane to herself. Aloud she said,
"And who, do you think, the money belongs to, ma'am?"

"I make no doubt whose it is, Jane," said Lydia Purcell quietly and
steadily. "It is my own. This is my purse. It is the one poor old
Mrs. Bell lost so many years ago. You were a child at the time, but
there was some fuss made about it. I am short of money now, sadly
short! and I count it a providence that this, small as it is, should
have turned up."

"You mean to keep it then?" said Jane.

"Why, yes, I certainly do. You don't suppose I will hand it over to
that little thief of a French girl? Besides, it is my own. Is it
likely I should not know my own purse?"