"We want to keep Daniella here," Mary Lee went on, "and Aunt Sarah is thinking about it."
"Where is Daniella now?" asked Nan.
"She's at the hospital. Cousin Tom is going to bring her back when he takes her grandfather there. Isn't it a good thing that Cousin Philip is one of the directors? He had everything hurried up and settled so much sooner. Was it very awful staying up there all day, Nan? Were you scared?"
"It was lonesome, but I wasn't frightened. There wasn't anything to do but give the old man his supper and keep him from fooling with the fire. I couldn't eat their messes myself."
"Then you must be half starved," said Mary Lee. "You poor child. We waited supper for you all. Mitty is putting it on the table now."
Nan thought that never before in her life had batter bread and cold ham tasted so good. Never had biscuits and baked apples such a flavor.
After supper, Miss Sarah called the four girls to her. "Now, children," she said, "the little girl will be here presently, and before she gets here we must understand whether she is to stay or not. They will take her in at the Children's Home or the St. Mary's Orphan Asylum, while her mother is ill, so we need not feel that she will not be looked after."
"Oh, but it would be dreadful to shut up that little wild thing in a strict place like the Home or the Asylum," said Nan, with keen appreciation of what Daniella would suffer.
"But you know, my dear, that every penny counts with us, and that all that can be spared must go for your mother's expenses. If we keep the child here, even for a couple of months, she will have to have clothing, her board will cost something, and it will mean sacrifices on the part of all of us. Now, the question is: What are you willing to give up?"
"I think I can get along without anything more in the way of clothes this winter," said Nan, visions of a new frock fading away.