“No, it can’t be,” said Jean. “I want to talk to you, Margot. Where do you get the money to buy broth and chicken and jelly?”
“I make the jellies,” said Margot, “and the broth and chicken are not expensive at this time of year.”
“Where’s your mother?” Jean persisted.
“She’s staying with Papa’s friends for a little change. She’ll be back in a day or two!”
“Then you’ve done everything?” said Jean with a little sigh. “Do you know, Margot, when I came here I meant to help you, but it seems to me that I only gave you more trouble—it has always been you who have helped me. How do you manage, too, about your singing, chérie? I never hear you!”
“Would you like me to sing for you now?” asked Margot, anxious to change the subject. “I could, you know; I know that last little song of Schubert’s by heart.”
“Yes, do,” said Jean eagerly.
Margot drew a deep breath and winced.
“At least I thought I did,” she murmured. She had not realized how difficult it is to sing when you are hungry. For the last three days she had had very little to eat.
“I’m so sorry, Jean,” she said. “I’m afraid I can’t without you. You see, then, how necessary you are! You do help me!”