"
"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.
"Well then, Miss Daisy, a basket of cold meat wouldn't come
amiss, I suppose."
"And some bread, Joanna?"
"The chaise won't hold so much."
"It has got to hold the basket," said Daisy in much glee, "and
the bread can go in. And, Joanna, I'll have it ready at half-
past four o'clock."
There was no air of moping about Daisy, when, at half-past
four she set off from the house in her pony-chaise, laden with
pail and basket and all she had bargained for. A happier child
was seldom seen. Sam, a capable black boy, was behind her on a
pony not too large to shame her own diminutive equipage; and
Loupe, a good-sized Shetland pony, was very able for more than
his little mistress was going to ask of him.
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