"Sleep is the best thing for him," returned the doctor briefly. "About Kitty"—
The mother's wan face flushed. She came close to Dr. Maverick, her eyes downcast.
"The coal gave out this morning, and I've no fire there," she said just above a whisper. "The relief-store is closed"—
"Yes, yes; I'll see to it;" with a nod. "I will be in again"—looking at the sleeping child—"say about four." Then he changed the medicine for Kitty, and gave one or two orders.
Jack thrust a bank-note in Jenny's hand, with his good-by. "Tom will be so glad to see you, Mr. Darcy," she said, with an effort at calmness.
"Can nothing be done for them?" asked Jack, as they regained the street.
"No. Jamie had gone too far when I was called in. Larger rooms, fresher air, nourishing food: that's the secret of a physician's success in many cases. Poor little ones! He will not go through the night. Now, Jack, you are not to come in here, positively. Stand in this breeze, and blow the scarlet-fever out of your clothes."
He did as he was bid, and, getting tired, tramped up and down. How much of man's selfishness and dishonesty there was in this! If the time could ever come when the mists and fogs of complacency would be swept off, and we could see that it was the innocent suffering for the guilty, not that these poor souls were sinners above all men, as the self-righteous Pharisee preaches!
Maverick rejoined him with a grave face, then the two went down Main Street. Houses to let, stores and shops closed, and those open but half-stocked, and wearing a listless air. If three hard years so told on the place, and there was no prospect of better things, what would it be in five or ten? Was it some such misfortune that had overtaken those grand and luxurious cities of Oriental lands?
"Where are the Lawrences?" Jack asked presently.