Nan gulped down a sob and looked at him with dry eyes. Papa Sherwood had never seemed so stern before, and yet his own eyes were moist. She began to see that this decision was very hard upon her parents, too.
“Now do you understand,” he asked gently, “that we cannot take our little daughter with us, but that we are much worried by the fact, and we do not know what to do with her while we are gone?”
“You, you might as well put me in an orphan asylum,” choked Nan. “I'll be an orphan till you get back.”
“Oh, honey!” cried her mother.
“There now!” said Nan, jumping up quickly and going around the table to her mother's side. “You poor dear! I won't say anything more to hurt and trouble you. I'm a selfish thing, that's what I am.”
Momsey wound her arms about her. Papa Sherwood still looked grave. “We get no nearer to the proper solution of the difficulty,” he said. “Of course, Nancy, the orphan asylum is out of the question.”
“I'll stay here, of course,” Nan said, with some difficulty keeping her voice from quavering.
“Not alone in the house, honey,” Momsey said quickly.
“With Mrs. Joyce?” suggested Nan tentatively.
“No,” Mr. Sherwood said. “She is not the person to be trusted with you.”