It is very hard to be polite and pleasant when you are faint, sick, and generally miserable.
“Wont you let me fix you?” asked Mrs. Ashford. She put the basket on the table, and taking off her gloves, approached the bed.
“Now, Marty,” she said, “as I raise Jennie, you beat up the pillows.”
Marty beat them with a will, and the sick girl was soon comfortably placed. She appeared greatly relieved and sighed from satisfaction. Mrs. Ashford, seeing a tin plate on the shelf, covered it with one of the napkins from her basket, and placing on it the small glass saucer of strawberries and a rusk, gave it to Marty to carry to Jennie. The wan face of the invalid flushed with pleasure when she saw the dainty food.
“For me!” she exclaimed.
“Of course it's for you,” replied Marty, settling the plate on the bed.
Just then Mrs. Scott entered, almost breathless from her hurried walk, having been detained, and knowing Jennie would need her. She was exceedingly grateful when she found Mrs. Ashford and Marty ministering to her sick child.
“O mother!” cried the latter. “The lady lifted me up in bed; and see the strawberries! Some are for you.”
“No, no,” protested her mother, but Jennie persisted in forcing at least one upon her. When Marty saw how the berries were enjoyed she felt very well repaid for having been satisfied with a smaller portion herself.
Mrs. Ashford inquired what had been done for Jennie, and found she had had no doctor since coming to the city.