irs scattering the children right and left.

Several other untidy-looking women opened doors and peered out at her as
she went by; but no one else spoke to her. Guided by the sound of the
groans, which came at regular intervals like long breaths, she went up a
second flight of stairs, more narrow and more dark than the first, and
turned into a little low room, the door of which stood open.

"Who's there!" called a fretful voice from inside.

"I," said Gypsy; "may I come in?"

"I don't know who you be," said the voice, "but you may come 'long ef you
want to."

Gypsy accepted the somewhat dubious invitation. The room was in sad
disorder, and very dusty. An old yellow cat sat blinking at a sunbeam, and
an old, yellow, wizened woman lay upon the bed. Her forehead was all drawn
and knotted with pain, and her mouth looked just like her voice--fretful
and sharp. She turned her head slowly, as Gypsy entered, but otherwise she
did not alter her position; as if it were one which she could not change
without pain.

"Good afternoon," said Gypsy, feeling a little embarrassed, and not
knowing exactly what to say, now she was up there.

"Good arternoon," said Grandmother Littlejohn, with a groan.

"I heard you groan out in the street," said Gypsy, rushing to the point at
once; "I came up to see what was the matter."

"Matter?" said the old woman sharply, "I fell down stairs and broke my
ankle, that's the matter, an'clock I wonder the whole town hain't heerd me
holler,--I can't sleep day nor night with the pain, an'clock it's matter
enough, I think."

"I'm real sorry," said Gypsy.

Mrs. Littlejohn broke into a fresh spasm of groaning at this, and seemed
to be in such suffering, that it made Gypsy turn pale to hear her.

"Haven't you had a doctor?" she asked, compassionately.

"Laws yes," said the old woman. "Had a doctor! I guess I have, a young
fellar who said he was representative from somewhere from Medical
Profession, seems to me it war, but I never heerd on't, wharever it is,
an'clock he with his whiskers only half growed, an'clock puttin'clock of
my foot into a wooden box, an'clock murderin'clock of me--I gave him a
piece of my mind, and he hain't come nigh me since, and I won't have him
agin noways."

"But they always splinter broken limbs," said Gypsy.

"Splinters?" cried the old woman; "I tell ye I fell down stairs! I didn't
get no splinters in."

Gypsy concluded to suppress her surgical information.

"Who