"Cecil! That sounds like a boy's name. It ain't English to give boy names to little girls. But then you're foreign, you say—French, ain't it? I once knew a girl as had lived a long time in France and loved it dearly. Well, well, but here's dinner ready; the potatoes done to a turn, and boiled bacon and greens. Now, where's my good man? We won't wait for him, honey. Come, Maurice, my man, I don't doubt but you're rare and hungry."
"Yes," answered Maurice; "me and Cecile and Toby are very hungry. We had bad food yesterday; but I like this dinner, it smells good."
"It will eat good too, I hope. Now, Cecile, why don't you come?"
Cecile's face had grown first red and then pale.
"Please," she said earnestly, "that good dinner that smells so delicious may be very dear. We little children and our dog we have got to be most desperate careful, please, Mrs. Moseley, ma'am. We can't eat that nice dinner if 'tis dear."
"But s'pose 'tis cheap," said Mrs. Moseley; "s'pose 'tis as cheap as dirt? Come, my love, this dinner shan't cost you nothink; come and eat. Don't you see that the poor little man there is fit to cry?"
"And nothink could be cheaper than dirt," said Maurice, cheering up. "I'm so glad as this beautiful, delicious dinner is as cheap as dirt."
"Now we'll say grace," said Mrs. Moseley.
She folded her hands and looked up.
"Lord Jesus, bless this food to me and to Thy little ones, and use us all to Thy glory."