"It's forty miles away," she murmured, and added, "and there's Sally!"
"Upon that," said Dr. Lyon, "I cannot advise you. Go home, and sleep upon it, and give me your answer the day after to-morrow."
She thanked him' and walked slowly out of his consulting-room, which was about as large as a pill box; but returned within five minutes to ask him now much a week eighteen pounds a year would give her.
"Seven shillings," he replied.
Mrs. Chester went home filled with sorrowful contemplation of this sad crisis in her life. To part from Sally would be like tearing a string from her heart; but if it was for the child's good!--Yet even if she could calmly contemplate the separation, where could she place the child? There was the practical difficulty, in the solution of which she played no direct part.
So entirely occupied had Sally been with her duties as Little Mother, that since her first introduction to the reader she had not fainted dead away, as her wont and seemingly her pleasure were. But while the conversation between the mother and Dr. Lyon was proceeding, Sally once more indulged, and swooned off suddenly and unexpectedly. There were only herself and her baby-charge present, and they were sitting on the floor in the one room to which Mrs. Chester was now reduced. It was evening, and dusk, and the baby-child, naturally supposing that Sally had gone to sleep, crawled close to the insensible form of her friend and protector, and placing her face upon Sally's breast, fell asleep also. In this position Mrs. Chester found them when she arrived home.
Sally did not stir when her mother raised and shook her. Then the mother, rushing to a despairing conclusion, wrung her hands, and moaned that her child had died of starvation. What extravagance of emotion she might have exhibited in her grief it is hard to say; but a slight movement from the child assured her that she was mistaken in her impression. She ran hurriedly back to Dr. Lyon, and begged him to come and see Sally immediately.
"It is only one of the old attacks," he said to the grief-stricken mother, as they stood together by the poor bed on which the children were lying, "but brought about now by a different cause. See, she is sensible now. Sally, what is the matter with you?"
"I am hungry," moaned Sally, "and so is baby. We've only had a slice of bread between us to-day."
Dr. Lyon looked at the mother's white face, and bit his lips hard.