"My mother and I have talked it over," she said briefly, "and we have decided. Annie must go."
"I am glad," said Mrs. Randolph. "Glad for her, but very sorry for you."
"It is like cutting out my heart," said the poor Aunt. "But what can we do? I am not able to give the child proper food even, or decent clothes. If we keep her she must grow up in ignorance. These English strangers offer every thing; we have nothing to offer. If we could count on the bare necessaries of life,—no more than those,—I would never, never give up Annie. As it is, it would be sinning against her to refuse."
"Mr. Grant's assistance will do much to make your own lives more comfortable," suggested Mrs. Randolph.
"I don't care about that. We could go on suffering and not say a word, if only we might keep Annie. But she would suffer too, and more and more as she grows older. No, Annie must go."
"The Grants are thoroughly good people, and will be kindness itself, I am sure. The only danger is that they may spoil your dear little girl with over-indulgence."
"She can stand a good deal, having had none for so long a time," replied Miss Pickens with a sad smile. "But Annie is not that sort of child; nothing could spoil her. When must she go, Mrs. Randolph?"
"Mr. Grant spoke of the 'Cuba,' on which some friends of his are to sail. She leaves on the 24th."
"The 24th. That is week after next."
"If it seems to you too soon—"