“No, it isn't begging at all,” said Mrs. Ashford. “I'm very glad you told me about your little girl. Katie, fill one of those small jars with peaches.”
Then Mrs. Ashford went into the pantry, and returning with two large oranges and some Albert biscuit, asked,
“Can you carry these also?”
Mrs. Scott was full of thanks, and said she knew such nice things would do Jennie a world of good.
“I can make enough to keep her warm in winter and get her plain vittles, but it isn't at all what she ought to have now, I know,” she said sorrowfully.
Mrs. Ashford asked what was the matter with Jennie and how long she had been ill. Mrs. Scott replied that she had hurt her back more than a year ago; and though she had been “doctored” then and appeared to get a little better, since they moved to their present abode—for they came from a distant town—she had become worse and was now not able to walk at all, but was obliged to lie in bed, sometimes suffering much pain.
“How was she hurt?” Mrs. Ashford inquired.
“She fell down the stair,” was all the reply given, but Katie said afterward that she had heard that Jennie was thrown or pushed down stairs by her drunken father. She said poor Mrs. Scott had had a very hard life with this shiftless, drunken husband, who abused her and the children. All the children were dead now except Jennie, who was about a year older than Marty, and early in the winter “old Scott,” as Katie called him, died himself from the effects of a hurt received in a fight while “on a spree.” As Mrs. Scott had been ill part of the winter and unable to work much, she had got behind with her rent, and altogether had been having a very hard time.
Marty was very much interested in what Mrs. Scott said, and asked a question or two on her own account.
“Who stays with your little girl when you are away?”