"You don't understand, dear; I must explain. Miss Dawson—the young lady I have engaged to nurse—is the only child of a very rich man, and I do not think my duties will be arduous, but—but I shall have to go abroad with her—to Australia."
"To Australia!" echoed Mavis, aghast, the colour fading from her 'cheeks, a look of dismay in her hazel eyes. "Why, Australia's ever so far away—right at the other side of the world!"
"Yes. I shall be gone months, perhaps even a year or longer, it will depend upon the patient."
"Oh, mother," gasped Mavis, "you don't mean it! Say you don't."
"But I do mean it, my dear. I am to have a splendid salary, and shall be able to provide for you well during my absence. It would have been madness to have refused this post. Suppose nothing else offered? Then we should be face to face with want, and with the winter coming on, too. Don't look at me so reproachfully, Mavis."
"Mother, how can you leave me?" cried the little girl. "I don't mind living with Miss Tompkins for a few weeks, but for months, perhaps years—" She completed the sentence with a sob.
"It is not my intention to leave you with Miss Tompkins, my dear. I am thinking of sending you to your father's relations, if they will have you, and I expect they will. You know you've an uncle and aunt living at W—, near Oxford, and they have children about your age, a girl and a boy. Wouldn't you like to know them? I've written to your uncle to-night. You remember him, don't you? He came to your father's funeral, and once afterwards, he called to see us, when he was in town on business."
"Yes," replied Mavis, dolefully. She had a somewhat hazy remembrance of a tall, stout man, with stooping shoulders, who had presented her with a big box of chocolates. She had the box still, it was one of her few treasures.
"He is a miller at W—, and is a very prosperous man, I believe. I have written to ask him to take you into his home, and I am sure he will. Come, my dear, don't cry. We ought to be very, very thankful that I have succeeded in obtaining such a good post."
In spite of her brave words, there were tears in Mrs. Grey's own eyes as she spoke. Her little daughter leaned against her knees and wept heart-brokenly, and she smoothed her tangled brown locks with a gentle, caressing hand.