"You can't from here. And it's got to be watered, and she counts every pot full of water from her bed. She can hear me pumping. The birds dig up the seeds as fast as I can plant 'em, and I never saw no sense in slaving in the sun over what you can buy in the shade any day.—Are you done?"
"Yes, I'm done."
"Then come on."
"Can I spread the tray?"
"Tray! She doesn't have a tray. What should I fuss with a tray for, when I've got two hands?"
Jane rose and stood by the table in silence, watching the cup filled from the standing teapot and the plate ornamented with a lonely bit of fish and a slice of bread. "Don't you butter the bread?"
"She's in bed so much she mustn't have rich food," Matilda answered; "there, now it's ready. Come on."
"Shan't I carry anything?"
"I can take it, I guess. I've carried it alone for five years; I guess I can manage it to-night."
Jane followed up the stairs in silence; Matilda marched ahead with a firm, heavy tread.