ntly has the consumption. That damp cellar has killed her; she
should be got out of it.'

'The cellar hasn't done it; her very vitals are eaten up. She's been
beyond cure for six months!'

'Is it possible? And such a woman!'

'Oh! I see such cases every day--women as fine-looking as she is.'

A ring came at the front-door, and in a moment I heard the woman coming
up the basement stairs. I had risen when the doctor made the last
remark, and was pacing up and down the room, deliberating on what should
be done. The parlor-door was ajar, and as the woman admitted the
new-comers, I caught a glimpse of them. They were three rough,
hard-looking characters; and one, from his unsteady gait, I judged to be
intoxicated. She seemed glad to see them, and led them into the room
from whence the noises proceeded. In a moment the doctor rose to go,
saying: 'I can do nothing more. But what do you intend to do here? I
brought you out to ask you.'

'I don't know what _can_ be done. She ought not to be left to die
there.'

'She'd prefer dying above-ground, no doubt; and if you relish fleecing,
you'll get her an upper room--but she's got to die soon any way, and a
day or two, more or less, down there, won't make any difference. Take my
advice--don't throw your money away, and don't stay here too late; the
house has a very hard name, and some of its rough customers would think
nothing of throttling a spruce young fellow like you.'

'I thank you, doctor, but I think I'll run the risk--at least for a
while,' and I laughed good-humoredly at the benevolent gentleman's
caution.

'Well, if you lose your small change, don't charge it to me.' Saying
this, he bade me 'good-night.'

He found the door locked, barred, and secured by the large chain, and he
was obliged to summon the woman. When she had let him out, I asked her
into the parlor.

'Who is this sick person?' I inquired.

'I don't know, sir. She never gave me no name but Fanny. I found her and
her little boy on the door-step, one night, nigh a month ago. She was
crying hard, and seemed very sick, and little Franky was a-trying to
comfort her--he's a brave, noble little fellow, sir. She told me she'd
been turned out of doors for not paying her rent, and was afeared she'd
die in the street, though she didn't seem to care much about that,
except for the boy--she took on terrible about him. She didn't know what
_would_ become of him. I've to scrape very hard to get along, sir, for
t