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?"
"Is there much money in it?" asked Jane as quietly as before.
"No, nothing to make a fuss about. Only a few sovereigns and some
silver. Nothing much, but still of value to a hard-working woman."
"After that lie, I'll not spare her," muttered Jane to herself.
Aloud she said, "I was only a child of ten years or so, but I
remember the last time poor Mistress Bell was in that attic."
"Indeed. And when was that?" asked Lydia.
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