Her daughter succeeded in making her eat a little as well.
"Now you got to lie down," she said.
"I can’t. I’ve got to clean the halls."
"I’ll do it, mommer."
"Nonsense, Angelica! You don’t know a thing about it."
"I guess I can learn. Go on, mommer, lie down!"
She straightened the bed and patted the thin little pillow.
"Now, mommer, tell me! How do you do it? Where do you start?"
"Angie, I can’t let you. You’re tired to death, child. I’m more used to it."
But Angelica would not listen to her. She went out, resolutely, with the pail and the cloth and the scrubbing-brush, to do for her mother for one day what her mother had done for her for nineteen years.