"What was it he said about fresh air, mother?" Annie inquired anxiously.
"He said life in the country with plenty of fresh air would be of the utmost advantage to help to make you stronger. I am going to write to your grandfather, Annie, and ask him if he would not like a little grandchild in his home, one who would grow to love him dearly, I know."
"And you, mother? And Maggie?"
"I don't know, darling, yet."
"I could not leave you, mother!"
"Not if leaving me would mean making you strong and well?"
"No," was the response in determined accents. "Oh, mother, don't ask me to go!"
Mrs. Blundell sighed. She had again put off writing to her father, shrinking sensitively from explaining to him the miseries of her married life; but, now that she knew that fresh air was the one thing needed to assist in Annie's cure, she determined to appeal to him to take the child.
Maggie heard her mother's resolve in silence, but she drew near to her sister, and put her arms in mute protest around her neck.
"Oh, Maggie," Annie whispered, tearfully, "I don't think I want to get well now."