Sherwood, his own voice trembling.
"It, it seems impossible!" gasped Nan, "just as though it
couldn't be. I won't know what to do without you, my dears. And
what will you do without me?"
That seemed to be unanswerable, and it quite broke Momsey down.
She sobbed openly into her handkerchief.
"Who's going to be her little maid?" demanded Nan, of her father.
"Who's going to 'do' her beautiful hair? Who's going to wait on
her when she has her dreadful headaches? And who's going to play
'massagist' like me? I want to know who can do all those things
for Momsey if you take her away from me, Papa Sherwood?" and she
ended quite stormily.
"My dear child!" Mr. Sherwood said urgently. "I want you to
listen to me. Our situation is such that we cannot possibly take
you with us. That is final. It is useless for us to discuss the
point, for there is nothing to be gained by discussing it from
now till Doomsday."
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.
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