"I am not a bit hungry," she said, brokenly.
Sylvia drew a large, chintz-covered chair forward.

"Set right down in this chair," she said, firmly.

And Rose slid weakly from the bed and sank into the chair.

She watched, with a sort of dull gratitude, while Sylvia spread a little table with a towel and set out the tray.
"There," said she.

"Here is some cream toast and some of those new pease, and a little chop, spring lamb, and a cup of tea.