"It's not very serious, Ethel Brown says, only he's bruised and he swallowed a lot of smoke and he can't eat what the rest of them do."
"Haven't they a maid?"
"They only have one here, and she has been Dicky's nurse until a little while ago, and he got so scared yesterday that he's almost sick to-day and keeps calling for Mary all the time. So Mrs. Morton is cooking for the family and she can't manage to do special things for her father."
"Do they want you to go there?"
"The kitchen is too small. That's why the grandmother or the older sister doesn't do it. They want me to make broths and jellies and things at home here and take them down there."
"You must do your very best, dear. It will be a splendid chance for you to take such a responsibility."
"The doctor says Mr. Emerson is to have chicken broth and toast at three o'clock, so I went to their house after the club and got a tray and a small bowl and some plates, and then stopped at the meat market on the way home, so the broth is started now."
She waved her hand toward the corner of the room where the low-turned flame of a gas plate was causing a soft simmering in a large saucepan.
"You put the chicken in cold water, didn't you, to draw the goodness out?"
"Yes, indeed. I cut up the chicken and cracked the bones so that all that inside goodness wouldn't be wasted. A quart and a pint of water covered it well and it's going to stay on until the meat all falls to pieces. That will be about three hours from the time I put it on."