“Yes, Dukie, I know you love me.”

Maggie re-entered the room.  In her hand was a plate, and on that plate was a large slice of white chicken meat.  Beth’s eyes glistened at sight of it.

“Dar, honey chile, dey jes’ shan’t starve yo’ to death.  Here am a whole lot ob chicken for yo’.”

Beth grabbed the plate.  “Oh, Maggie, it’s—­it’s heavenly.”

Suddenly, Maggie heard Mrs. Davenport approaching.  Her eyes rolled tragically.

“Law, honey, it’s yo’r maw.  Hide de chicken under yo’r pillow.  I’ll get rid of her, an’ den yo’ can eat de chicken in peace.  Quick, honey, or she’ll take it away from yo’.”

Beth put the plate with the chicken under her pillow.  Maggie tried to look unconcerned.

Mrs. Davenport entered the room.  “Well, my dearie is awake, is she?”

“Oh, mamma, I’m so hungry.  I do wish I could have a piece of chicken.”

“No, no, dearie, that would never do.  I’ll get you some lovely mutton broth.”

Tears rose in Beth’s eyes.  “I don’t want broth.”

“Oh, yes, you do, dearie.”  Mrs. Davenport left the room to get the broth.  Maggie went to the bed and drew out the chicken.

“Quick, honey, yo’ eat it while she’s gone and she need neber know.”

Beth’s eyes feasted on the chicken for a second or two.  She halfway put out a hand for it, but quickly drew it back again.

“No, Maggie, it wouldn’t be honorable.”

“Law, child, yo’d bettah eat it.  Yo’r maw’ll find me with it, and den she’ll blame me.”

Beth held out her hand for the plate.  She looked at the chicken very longingly, and Maggie thought that she had made up her mind to eat it.  She did take up the meat, but she held it out to Duke, saying: 

“It’ll be honorable for you to eat it.  Duke, and then mamma’ll never blame Maggie.  It was very nice of you, Maggie, to get it for me, but I couldn’t deceive mamma.”

Duke gulped the meat down at one swallow much to the envy of Beth.  She held out the empty plate to Maggie.

“Take it away, Maggie.  The smell of it makes me so dreadfully hungry.”

Maggie took it and left the room, muttering: 

“It’s a ter’ble shame, a ter’ble shame.”

Mrs. Davenport came in with the steaming broth.

“Here, dearie, is your broth.”

Beth burst into tears.  “I can’t eat it.  I just can’t touch the horrid stuff.  Please take it away.”

Her mother did not attempt to argue the question.  That afternoon, when the doctor came, she asked: 

“Isn’t there something else we can feed her on, doctor?”

He pondered for a moment.  “Well, she seems to be improving a little, and if we could get a bird or a rabbit we might make her some broth out of that.”

“I think rabbit broth would be delicious,” cried Beth rapturously.

Mrs. Davenport said: