ther room in the house that you could have for the
sick boy, or that you could do your washing in and give him this?"

"Room in this house?" repeated the woman. "I'll tell you. There's nigh
upon three hundred people living in it; do you think there'd be a room
to spare?"

"Three hundred people in _this_ house?" repeated Matilda.

"Nigh upon that. O it's close livin', and all sorts, and all ways o'
livin', too. I like my room, cause it's so high and atop o' everything;
but I hear thunder below me sometimes. I wouldn't care, only for the
child," she said in a tone a little subdued.

"David, what can we do?" said Matilda, in a half despairing whisper.
David edged himself a little forward and put his question.

"What does the doctor say about him?"

"Doctor!" echoed Mrs. Binn. "Did you say doctor? There's no doctor has
seen him. Is it likely one would walk up to this chimbley top to see a
poor boy like that? No, no; doctors has to be paid, and I can't do
that."

"What do you give him to eat? what does he like?"

"What does he like!" the woman repeated. "He don't like nothin' he has,
and he don't eat nothin'. 'Tain't 'what we like,' young sir, that lives
in these places. Some days he can't swaller dry bread, and he don't
care for mush; he'll take a sup o' milk now and then, when I can get
it; but it's poor thin stuff; somethin' you call milk, and that's all."

"Good bye," said David. "I'll bring him something he will like,
perhaps. I hope we haven't hindered you."

"I don't have so many visits I need quarrel with this one," said the
woman, coming to her door to shew them so much civility; "Sarah
wouldn't bring anybody to make a spectacle of me."

They cast looks on the poor little brown heap in the corner of the
entry, and groped their way down stairs again. But when they got out
into the street and drew breaths of fresh air, David and Matilda stood
still and looked at each other.

"I never knew what good air meant before," said the latter.

"And even this is not _good_," replied David.

"How does he live, that poor little creature, with not one breath of
it?"

"He doesn't live; he is dying slowly," said David.

"Oh David, what can we do?"

"We'll think, Tilly. I'll carry him some grapes presently. I fancy he
wants nothing but food and air. We will contrive something."

"I wonder if there are any other sick children in that house, Sarah?"
Matilda asked.

"I can't say, Miss Matilda; I don't know nobody