So the strawberries were put in a basket with two glasses of jelly, some nice rusks that Katie was famous for making, and a closely-covered dish of chicken broth. Marty had her parcel ready, and they set out on their expedition.
When they reached the house and knocked at the door of the room Mrs. Scott had directed them to, a weak but shrill voice cried out, “Come!”
They entered a neat but poorly furnished room, of which the only occupant was a pale, thin girl, lying in what appeared to be a very uncomfortable position in bed.
“I suppose you are Jennie,” said Mrs. Ashford, with her pleasant smile.
“Yes, ma'am,” answered the girl, staring.
“I am Mrs. Ashford. My little girl and I have come to see you.”
Jennie probably had few visitors, and she certainly did not know how to treat them. She did not ask her present ones to be seated, and merely continued to stare at them as well as she could stare in the doubled-up way she was lying.
“Your mother is out to-day, is she?” said Mrs. Ashford.
“Yes, but she's only gone for half a day. She ought to be home now,” and then the poor child broke into a whining cry, saying,
“I wish she'd come and fix me, for I'm all slid down, and give me some dinner.”