He left her, and Daisy sat meditating; then with a glad heart ran off
and ordered her pony chaise. If tableaux were to be the order of the day
every afternoon, she must go to see Molly in the morning. This time she
had a good deal to carry and to get ready. Molly was in want of bread.
A nice little loaf, fresh baked, was supplied by Joanna, along with some
cold rolls.

"She will like those, I dare say," said Daisy. "I dare say she never saw
rolls in her life before. Now she wants some meat, Joanna. There was
nothing but a little end of cold pork on the dish in her cupboard."

"Why I wonder who cooks for the poor wretch?" said Joanna.

"I think she cooks for herself, because she has a stove, and I saw iron
things and pots to cook with. But she can't do much, Joanna, and I don't
believe she knows how."

"Sick, is she too?" said Joanna.

"Sick with rheumatism, so that she did not like to stir."

"I guess I must go take a look at her; but maybe she mightn't let me.
Well, Miss Daisy, the way will be for you to tell me what she wants, if
you can find out. She must have neighbours, though, that take care of
her."

"We are her neighbours," said Daisy.

Joanna looked, a look of great complacency and some wonder, at the