"Aw, say! Now, don't get flighty again, Jen," urged little Inez, much worried. "I tell youse these girls is all right. Why, they're pertic'lar friends of mine."
"Your—your friends?" muttered the wild looking girl. "This—this is a poor place to bring your friends, Ina. But—do sit down! Do take a chair!"
She waved her hand toward the only chair there was—a broken-armed parlor chair, the upholstery of which was in rags. She laughed as she did so—a sudden, high, cackling laugh. Then she broke out coughing and—as Inez had said—she seemed in peril of shaking herself to pieces!
"Oh, the poor thing!" murmured Bess to Nan.
"She is dreadfully ill," the latter whispered. "She ought really to have a doctor right now."
"Oh, girls!" gasped Grace, in terror. "Let's come away. Perhaps she has some contagious disease. She looks just awful!"
The sick girl heard this, low as the three visitors spoke. "And I feel 'just awful!'" she gasped, when she got her breath after coughing. "You'd better not stay to visit Ina. This is no place for you."
"Why, we must do something to help you," Nan declared, recovering some of her assurance. "Surely you should have a doctor."
"He gimme some medicine for her yisterday," broke in Inez. "But we ain't got no more money for medicine. Has we, Jen?"
"Not much for anything else, either," muttered the bigger girl, turning her face away.