Minnie rose to her feet and drifted across the room, for her mode of getting about could hardly be called walking.
"You mustn't cry because I don't listen to your poetry," said Aunt Jelly grimly. "I hate poetry--it's all rubbish, and I can't and won't stand it. But I daresay your poetry's all right--it sounds sing-songy enough. Wait till Mr. Gartney comes home, and then you can read it to him. I've no doubt it's as good as his own. Now take a glass of port, and stop your whimpering."
"Oh, no, Miss Jelly," said Minnie' in a frightened tone. "Oh, yes, Miss Minnie," mimicked the old lady fiercely. "Do what I tell you--it will put some blood into you."
"Tea!" began Miss Pelch nervously.
"Tea! wash!" snorted Aunt Jelly disdainfully, "there's no strength in tea, girl. You might as well drink vinegar. Your blood's like water; I'm sure I don't know how your father reared you."
"Father was a vegetarian," volunteered Minnie, in mild triumph.
"And a pretty example you are of the system," retorted Miss Corbin. "If I didn't keep my eye on you I don't believe you'd eat meat."
"It's so strong."
"That's more than you are!"
"Dr. Pargowker----" began Miss Pelch once more. "Prescribes iron, I know all about that," said Aunt Jelly wrathfully. "I don't hold with drugs, I never did. Meat and port wine is what you want and what you've got to take. Hold your tongue and do what I tell you."