The few friends of
her earlier life had drifted away one by one and there was no one to
whom she could turn for help or advice in her hour of need. She must
manage alone somehow, she and faithful black Mandy to whom her mother
was still the "li'l Missy" of long years ago, the "l'il Missy" of the
happy days on the southern plantation.
For two years they had succeeded, but by what sacrifices to themselves
no one would ever know. Many a time they had been reduced almost to the
verge of starvation in order to provide for the blind mother the little
delicacies to which she had been accustomed. Gradually, articles of
furniture disappeared from their accustomed places; costly pieces of
bric-a-brac, rare old china, everything of value which Cecile thought
her mother would not be likely to miss. Cecile's own apartment had been
reduced to four walls, a bare floor, one chair and the bed upon which
she slept. The mother's rooms and Philippe's alone remained untouched.
Then Cecile found employment in the office of one of those new
factories which had recently been erected over there beyond the town.
This step had been the cause of the first disagreement between her
mother and herself.
"Why, Cecile, what do you mean?" the poor mother had gasped in her utter
bewilderment when informed of her daughter's intention. "Surely, I
misunderstood what you just said.
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