"Now, Joe," said Cecile, coming up at once to where the poor boy was
standing, "we are safe here, safe for a little. What is the matter?
What is wrong, dear Joe?"
"Maurice must not hear," said Joe; "it will only make things still
harder if little Maurice hears what I have got to say."
"Maurice will not care to hear. See, how sleepy he looks? There is
some straw in that corner, some nice clean straw; Maurice shall lie
down on it, and go to sleep. I can't make out why we are all so
sleepy; but Maurice shall have a good sleep, and then you can talk to
me. Toby will stay close to Maurice."
To this arrangement Maurice himself made no objection. He could
scarcely keep his eyes open, and the moment he found himself on the
bed of straw was sound asleep.
Toby, in obedience to Cecile's summons, sat down by his side, and
then the little girl returned to Joe.
"No one can hear us now. What is wrong, Jography?"
"This is wrong," said Joe, in a low, despairing voice: "I'm a ruined
lad. Ef I don't rob you, and become a thief, I'm a quite ruined lad.
I'll never, never see my mother nor my brother Jean. I'm quite
ruined, Missie, dear."
"But how, Joe. How?"
"Missie, that man wot come wid us all the way from Normandy, he's a
spy and a thief. He wants yer purse, Missie, darling, and he says as
he'll get it come what may. He wor at that farm in Kent when you was
there, and he heard all about the purse, and he wor determined to get
it. That wor why he tried to make friends wid us, and would not let
out as he knew a word of English.
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