"If you’re lookin’ for somebody to wash," she said abruptly, "’tain’t no use comin’ here. My health don’t allow of more than rubbin’ out a few pieces for the children." Peggy explained that their call was purely social, and Mrs. Dunn’s manner lost its cold aloofness. "Isabel," she exclaimed, addressing a freckled child whom Peggy knew at a glance must be one of Jimmy’s sisters, "clean off some chairs for the young ladies. Set the potatoes behind the stove. The kindlings might as well go under the bed. ’Liza," she added to the red-haired girl, who, with her usual officiousness, was lending a hand, "now there’s a tea-towel hanging up over the sink; take that, some o’ you, and dust the chairs off good. No, don’t bother about the rungs, Estelle. They ain’t going to set on the rungs, be they? Some o’ you don’t use the sense you was born with." And so amid a confusion in which Mrs. Dunn sat calm and unperturbed, giving her orders, two chairs were cleared and the girls seated themselves. Peggy, who had discovered that a baby is always a safe entering wedge as a topic of conversation, ventured to pat the round cheek of the child in Mrs. Dunn’s arms. "That’s a nice fat baby, Mrs. Dunn," she said, and the compliment was not a careless bid for the mother’s favor. To Peggy all babies were nice, though some were nicer. This baby was too dirty to admit of the comparative degree, though he was surprisingly plump considering his surroundings. Mrs. Dunn groaned. "He may look fat enough, but I’ve been up with him night and day all winter," she said. "Amonia of the lungs ’twas, and the mumps first of November. So much nursin’ is bad for me on account of my heart." "Do you have heart trouble?" asked Peggy, alarmed. "Yes, Miss. But that’s not the worst. I’ve got a disease that will take me off some day, I s’pose." She lowered her voice thrillingly. "Lots of folks die of it. You’ll see by the papers. It’s complication." "Complication!" Peggy and Priscilla exchanged glances. "Complication," repeated Mrs. Dunn, as if determined to make no concessions. "I guess it’s pretty near the most fatal of any. You can buy things at any drug store to cure consumption and amonia of the lungs, but there ain’t a cure for complication. I ast the druggist myself and he said he didn’t know of none." Peggy attempted to change the subject to something less depressing. "I don’t suppose Jimmy is home?" "No, Miss. He’s off sellin’ papers." "He’s left school, has he? It’s a pity, for he seems so bright." "Jimmy’s been through the fourth grade," said Mrs. Dunn. "He can read well enough for anybody. And Francesca, she pretty near finished the fourth grade, too, and she’s in the factory now. In the spring they’re going to give her a machine." "Isn’t she pretty young? I thought they weren’t allowed to work in the factory till--" "Francesca got a permit," explained Mrs. Dunn, "’count of her pa being out of a job."