“Oh, Miss Grackle!” Adele said, hurrying to the bedside. “You are ill and all alone here!”
“Well, what if I am?” the old woman replied tartly. “It’s nobody’s business and nobody cares.”
“If we made a fire in the stove, it would take the chill from the room,” Gertrude suggested kindly.
“Maybe so, like as not,” the old woman agreed. “But where’s the wood?”
“I’ll bring some in,” Gertrude replied. “I saw some fallen branches near by.”
So saying, Gertrude went out and quickly returned with an armful of dry wood, and soon a fire snapped and crackled cheerfully in the stove.
“And now I’ll make you some broth,” said Adele.
“You’ll be smart if you do,” Miss Grackle replied. “What are you planning to make it out of?”
“Why, Miss Grackle!” Adele exclaimed when she found the cupboards bare. “Haven’t you had anything to eat?”
“Not a sumptuous banquet,” the old woman replied in a non-committal manner.