berries, though they were yet somewhat
expensive. Marty, seeing them on the lunch-table, nearly went wild over
them, being very fond of the fruit, but her mother noticed that after
she was served she barely tasted them, and then sat with the spoon in
her hand gravely thinking.

"Don't you like them after all, Marty?"

"O mamma, they're perfectly delicious! I was just thinking how good they
would taste to Jennie. Can't we take her some of them?"

"I am afraid there are none to spare. You know Katie must have some, and
I want to save a few for your papa."

"I might take her mine," said Marty slowly. "I've only eaten one." But
she looked at the berries longingly.

"That would be too much of a sacrifice, I fear," said Mrs. Ashford, "but
I'll tell you what we will do if you are willing. You set yours aside
for Jennie and I will give you half of mine, and then we will all have
some."

Marty was afraid it would not be fair to have her mother make a
sacrifice also, but Mrs. Ashford declared she should like it of all
things, and was very glad Marty had thought of taking some berries to
Jennie.

So the strawberries were put in a basket with two glasses of jelly, some
nice rusks that Katie was famous for making, and a closely-covered dish
of chicken broth. Marty had her parcel ready, and they set out on their
expedition.

When they reached the house and knocked at the door of the room Mrs.
Scott had directed them to, a weak but shrill voice cried out, "Come!"

They entered a neat but poorly furnished room, of which the only
occupant was a pale, thin girl, lying in what appeared to be a very
uncomfortable position in bed.

"I suppose you are Jennie," said Mrs. Ashford, with her pleasant smile.

"Yes, ma'am," answered the girl, staring.

"I am Mrs. Ashford. My little girl and I have come to see you."

Jennie probably had few visitors, and she certainly did not know how to
treat them. She did not ask her present ones to be seated, and merely
continued to stare at them as well as she could stare in the doubled-up
way she was lying.

"Your mother is out to-day, is she?" said Mrs. Ashford.

"Yes, but she's only gone for half a day. She ought to be home now," and
then the poor child broke into a whining cry, saying,

"I wish she'd come and fix me, for I'm all slid down, and give me some
dinner."

It is very hard to be polite and pleasant when you are faint, sick, and
generally miserable.

"Wont you let me fix you?