“And now, my darling, you’ll soon be better, you know. Very, very soon. Shall I tell you where I’ve been? I’ve seen a lot of boys, and such a nice girl. They called her Madge. Madge! What a funny name, isn’t it?”
“What was she like?” lisped the little thing, twining her fingers in her sister’s wavy yellow hair, and softly pulling.
“Big. Not pretty, but with kind eyes, and she kissed me, and made me sit on her knee as though I had been as little as you, baby. And she gave me some supper, and was so nice. I wish you could see her. She didn’t talk much. I don’t remember that she said anything at all. It was only her way of looking, and holding my hand, and smiling. And there was a big solemn boy, and a smaller one, and a smaller one still. I suppose Kitty has been in bed ever so long, hasn’t she?” And she glanced towards the door of a small inner room that opened out of this one.
The baby nodded.
Meanwhile a long, earnest conversation was going on behind them between their mother and Mr. Kayll. The children did not hear what was said, for it was carried on in undertones, but the chink of coins reached their ears, and Amy’s eyes sparkled.
“If we had plenty of money, baby, how happy we could be, couldn’t we? But perhaps we shouldn’t be as fond of each other then as we are now; do you think we should?”
“Oh, yes, fonder,” said the tiny invalid, still playing with her sister’s curls that fell forward on the bed-clothes.
“I don’t so much wish to be very rich, and to have carriages and all sorts of beautiful things,” Amy went on dreamily, “but, oh dear! I should like always to be able to earn money if I worked hard, and to bring it home to you and mother and Kitty. But there isn’t any work to do. I believe the beggars, and the organ-grinders, and the girls selling flowers get ever so much more than we do. Oh, baby, I think it is funny that some people should have more money than they can possibly spend in all their lives, and we shouldn’t have any.”
The sick child’s blue-veined eyelids slowly closed. She could not understand all this, but the low sweet murmuring talk had soothed her to sleep, with her fingers tangled in the long soft hair.
Amy dared not move for fear of rousing her, and continued to kneel there in silence with her eyes fixed on the sleeping face. Poor baby! Was it likely that she would ever get strong and healthy, here in this narrow, crowded court, where no fresh air ever seemed to come, and very little sunshine was to be seen? Would she not linger on month after month, perhaps year after year, a weak little cripple, who must be carried or wheeled about always, for want of air and sunlight and good things now, before it was too late?