The latter was pacing the floor anxiously. Then, as a little moan came from the next room, she flew to the patient, leaving Billie entirely alone.
The latter regarded the hamper uncertainly for a moment, then, with a sigh, she lifted it from the floor to the rickety kitchen table.
“I’ll let her see all the good things first,” she decided wisely, as she removed the cover from the basket, exposing to view its inviting contents. “Then maybe she’ll be too busy looking at them to be angry.”
So busy was she that she did not hear Mrs. Haddon reënter the room. Neither did she know that the latter was staring unbelievingly over her shoulder till a slight exclamation of wonder made her start and whirl round suddenly.
“Where did you get all that?” asked the woman, her eyes still fixed on the contents of the basket. “And what is it for?”
“It’s—it’s for you—if you will take it, please,” stammered Billie, in her surprise and confusion saying what came first to her mind. “We—we thought maybe—maybe the kiddies would like the beef tea and milk and—and—things——” she finished weakly, thinking resentfully that the girls, or one of them anyway, might have stayed and helped her out.
But after all, she need not have worried. For an instant the look that Billie had expected and dreaded flared into Polly Haddon’s eyes—a look of outraged pride. But then the woman thought of the children—and she had no pride.
“You said you brought some beef tea?” she repeated, bending eagerly over the basket. “And milk?”
“Two quarts of milk,” cried Billie, joyfully, the relief she felt singing in her voice. “And we made the beef tea fresh this morning. Why—why—what’s the matter?”
For Polly Haddon’s black eyes had filled with tears and she had turned away impatiently to hide them. Beneath the worn old shawl, her thin shoulders shook in an effort to suppress her hysterical sobs.