"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 child; and packed forthwith into Daisy's basket the half of a cold chicken and a broken peach pie.