Madame passed to the door of the tiny bedroom. The bed filled the
whole space with just room enough to stand left between it and the
wall. A little girl was lying on it, her hollow cheeks pink, her eyes
bright. The sun poured in at the bare window and the room was hot and
breathless. The swarming flies covered her face and arms. She brushed
them away fretfully, and stretched out her hot hands for the flowers.
"Oh, teacher," she cried, trying to strangle her cough, "I watched and
I watched for you all day and I was scared you wasn't comin'."

Mrs. Doasyouwouldbedoneby sat down on the edge of the dirty bed and put
her cool hand on the little girl's burning forehead.

Helen placed herself rather gingerly on a proffered chair, and looked
at the wee bundle in the woman's arms.

"Why, it's a baby," she whispered in awe. The mother's faded face lit
up with pride. She held the little scrap of humanity towards the
visitor. "'E's a grite little rascal, 'e is," she exclaimed fondly.
"As smart as a weasel, an' 'im only a fo'tnight old last Sunday."

Helen was positively afraid to touch the little bundle, but the look of
utter exhaustion on the woman's face overcame her repugnance. She held
out her arms and the mother dropped the baby into them and sank upon a
chair with a sigh of relief.

"Only a little over two weeks," gasped Helen, looking at the wee
wrinkled face peeping from the bundle.

The mother's face beamed with joy and pride. She thought that the
visitor's astonishment was for the wonderful baby, all unconscious of
herself.

"Yes'm, just but a fo'tnight, and a little over. Oh 'e's a grite
little tyke, 'e is. Ain't 'e, now?"

"Has Doctor Blair been to see Minnie?" asked Madame softly.

"Yes'm. Old Angus 'e was 'ere on Monday, and 'e sent 'im. 'E says
it's 'er lungs." She looked at her visitors with child-like
simplicity. "Is it very bad for Minnie to 'ave anything wrong with 'er
lungs do you think, Mrs. Adam?"

Madame's gentle face was eloquent with pity. "Doctor Blair is a good,
kind doctor," she said evasively. "He'll do his best for her. You do
everything for her that he asks."

"Yes'm. Old Angus 'e was trying to tell me wot to do, but I ain't much
of a 'and at sickness. Minnie she gets up and gets wot she wants but I
tell 'er she ought to lie abed."

The little girl had fallen into a doze, under the soothing touch of her
teacher's hand. Madame took off the veil from her hat and spr