“Maria Maroni! What do you think?” Agnes burst out. “Who could that boy be? Oh, I’d like to catch him! I’d make him sorry he told me such a story.”
“It is too bad you were troubled so, Agnes,” said Maria, when she understood all about it. “I can’t imagine who that boy could be. But I am glad you came over to see us, never mind what the reason is that brings you.”
“A sight you are for sore eyes yet,” declared the ponderous Mrs. Kranz, who had kissed Agnes warmly when she first appeared. “Come the back room in and sit down. Let Ikey tend to the customers yet, Maria. We will visit with Agnes, and have some tea and sweet crackers.”
“And you must tell me of somebody in the row, Mrs. Kranz, who needs these delicacies. Somebody who is ill,” said Agnes. “I must not take them home again. And Maria looks altogether too healthy for jelly and chicken broth.”
Mrs. Kranz laughed at that. But she added with seriousness: “There is always somebody sick here in the tenements, Miss Agnes. They will not take care themselfs of—no! I tell them warm flannels and good food is better than doctors yet. But they will not mind me.” She sighed.
“Who is ill now?” asked Agnes, at once interested. She loved to play “Lady Bountiful”; and, really, the Kenway sisters had done a great deal of good among their poor tenants and others in the row.
“Mrs. Leary. You know, her new baby died and the poor woman,” said Maria quickly, “is sick of grief, I do believe.”
“Ach, yes!” cried Mrs. Kranz. “She needs the cheerful word. You see her, Miss Agnes. Then she be better—sure!”
“Thank you!” cried Agnes, dimpling and blushing. “Do you really think I can help her?”
“And there is little Susie Marowsky,” urged the delicatessen shopkeeper. “That child is fading away like a sick rose. She iss doing just that! If she could have country eggs and country milk—Ach! If we were all rich!” and she sighed ponderously again.