"Where?" I asked. "With you, Mary?"
"No, dear; I must see after your mother," Mary said. "No, it's Mrs. Withers you're going to. Mrs. Withers has asked you to her house for a visit. You remember Mrs. Withers, Mr. Armstrong's sister-in-law." Ah, didn't I remember the only time I'd seen her! But Mary went on: "Mr. Armstrong's wife was her sister, and Mrs. Withers' husband has a living a few miles out of Littleburgh. You are to go there for two or three weeks, to be fed up and taken care of; and you will help a little with the children."
"I don't want to go. I want to be with you," I said, mournful enough.
"You will come back to me by-and-by," Mary says.
"Here! Will you be here still?" I wanted to know.
Mary didn't speak directly.
"No, not here," she said. "There will have to be changes."
"What changes?" I asked, getting frightened.
"Dear Kitty, haven't you ever thought," says she, "that you and your mother can't stay on here? The house will be wanted for—somebody else."
For another stationmaster in my father's place. I had not thought of that, and it broke me down afresh. To leave our home, the dear little home where he had always been; it seemed more than I could bear.