But there's worse nor that; I han't no one to speak a kind
word to me. Not one, not _one_ kind word for seven years have I
heard, and before that I had a mother and a brother. I wor a little
lad, and I used to sleep o' nights with my mother, and she used to
take me in her arms and pet me and love me, and my big brother wor as
good to me as brother could be. Missie, my heart has _starved_
for my mother and my brother, and ef I liked I could take that purse
full o' gold and let you little children fare as best you might, and
I could jump inter the next train and be wid my mother and brother
back in the Pyrenees in a werry short time."
"No, Joe Barnes, you couldn't do that," answered Cecile, the finest
pucker of surprise on her pretty brow.
"You think as I couldn't, Missie dear, and why not? I'm much
stronger than you."
"No, Joe, _you_ couldn't steal my purse of gold," continued
Cecile, still speaking quietly and without a trace of fear. "Aunt
Lydia Purcell could have taken it away, and I dreaded her most
terribly, and I would not tell dear Mrs. Moseley, nor Mr. Danvers,
who was so good and kind; I would not tell them, for I was afraid
somebody else might hear, or they might think me too young, and take
away the purse for the present. But _you_ could not touch it,
Jography, for if you did anything so dreadful, dreadful mean as that,
your heart would break, and you would not care for your mother to pet
you, and if your big brother were an honest man, you would not like
to look at him.
Pages:
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176