What should she do? She had not made up her
mind when she got to the little brown house where Mrs.
Harbonner lived.
She found mother and daughter both in the little bare room;
the child sitting on the floor and cutting pieces of calico
and cloth into strips, which her mother was sewing together
with coarse thread. Both looked just as when Daisy had seen
them before — slim and poor and uncombed; but the room was
clean.
"I thought you warn't coming again," said Mrs. Harbonner.
"I couldn't come till to-day," said Daisy, taking a chair. "I
came as soon as I could." Partly from policy, partly because
she felt very sober, she left it to Mrs. Harbonner to do most
of the talking.
"I never see more'n a few folks that thought much of doing
what they said they'd do — without they found their own
account in it. If I was living in a great house, now, I'd have
folks enough come to see me."
Daisy did not know what answer to make to this, so she made
none.
"I used to live in a better house once," went on Mrs.
Harbonner; "I didn't always use to eat over a bare floor. I
was well enough, if I could ha' let well alone; but I made a
mistake, and paid for it; and what's more, I'm paying for it
yet.
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