"What's the matter with her? ain't she going to get well?"

"No, never — she will always be obliged to lie on her bed as
long as she lives; and so, you see, Joanna, she hasn't
appetite for coarse things."

"Humph!" said Joanna. "Custards won't give it to her. What
does the daughter live upon?"

"She does washing for people; but of course that don't give
her much. They are very poor, I know."

"Well, what would you like to take her, Miss Daisy?"

"Mother said you'd know."

"Well, I'll tell you what _I_ think — sweetmeats ain't good for
such folks. You wait till afternoon, and you shall have a pail
of nice broth, and a bowl of arrowroot with wine and sugar in
it; that'll hearten her up. Will that do?"

"But I should like to take something to the other poor woman,
too."

"How are you going?"

"In my pony-chaise — I can take anything."

Joanna muttered an ejaculation.