"Well, aunty, don't dishearten me at the outset. See what a nice box of honey I've brought you from Aunt Rachel Grey. Some of it will be delightful on your light batter cakes, with a slice of old Crummie's yellow butter. I must go out and bid the dear old creature good-by. How I used to love to drive her to the brook for water!"
"Ah, those were happy days for me, Annie!" said the old woman, sorrowfully. "I shall never see the like again."
"Don't say so, aunty," said Annie, her own heart experiencing a thrill of anguish at the prospect of leaving her old forest-home, and kind, loving protector. "I shall return some day, may be rich and famous, and good, too, I hope; for Parson Grey says 'tis better to be good than great."
"God grant all your bright visions may be realized, Annie!" said the aunt fervently.
"Now, while you prepare our evening meal, I'll run out and look at some of my old haunts," said Annie, forcing back a tear, and trying to assume a cheerful countenance.
So she wandered forth, while the grief-stricken woman spread the simple board; but she could not relish the clear, dripping honey-comb sent by the kind Aunt Rachel, and long after Annie slept in her little cot-bed, did the old lady kneel over her sleeping form, weeping and praying for her darling child. Annie spent the ensuing day with her aunt at the cottage, and toward evening took a tearful leave, and bade adieu to Scraggiewood.
CHAPTER VI.
"And there was envy in her look,
And envy in her tone,
As if her spirit might not brook,