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Meade, L. T., 1854-1914

"The Children's Pilgrimage"

What I did to-night might have got me into trouble. But
this will save me, if you let me keep it for a bit."
"Yes, Jane, you must keep it; it only gives directions; I know all
about them down deep in my heart."
"And now, little one, I'm sorry to say there's no more sleep for you
this night. You've got to get up; you and Maurice and Toby have all
three of you to get up and be many, many miles away from here before
the morning, for if Lydia found you in the house in the morning, you
would not have that purse five minutes, child, and I don't promise as
I could ever get it back again."
"I always meant to go away," said Cecile quietly. "I did not know it
would come so soon as to-night, but I'm quite ready. Me and Maurice
and Toby, we'll walk to London. I have got half a sovereign that Mr.
Preston gave to Maurice. We'll go to London first, and then to
France. Yes, Jane, I'm quite ready. Shall I wake Maurice, and will
you open the door to let us out?"
"I'll do more than that, my little lamb; and ain't it enough to
break one's heart to hear the poor innocent, and she taking it so
calm and collected-like? Now, Cecile, tell me have you any friends in
London?"
"I once met a girl who sat on a doorstep and sang," answered Cecile.
"I think she would be my friend, but I don't know where she lives."
"Then she ain't no manner of good, deary. Jane Parsons can do better
for you than that. Now listen to what I has got to say. You get up
and dress, and wake Maurice and get him dressed, and then you,
Maurice, and Toby slip downstairs as soft as little mice; make no
noise, for ef _she_ woke it 'ud be all up with us.


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