"Do not leave the children," he said. "I will send in some medicine in five minutes."
The medicine duly arrived in the shape of a four-pound loaf of bread, a small pat of butter, a two-ounce packet of tea, and a little sugar. On the loaf of bread was stuck an apothecary's label, with the written inscription, "To be taken at once with a cup of hot tea." The mother burst into tears, and set about preparing the medicine for the children. But Dr. Lyon had forgotten that to make hot tea a fire was necessary. Mrs. Chester had no coals. There was nothing of value in the room, and there was no time to lose. She stood by the cold empty grate, considering for a moment. Her eyes fell upon her wedding ring. It was all of the world's goods she had remaining. A melancholy freak it was that induced her to creep to Sally's side and say:
"Sally, I'm going to make you some nice tea, and good Dr. Lyon has sent you some nice bread-and-butter."
"Oh," replied Sally, in a whisper, "I'm so glad--so glad! Make haste, mother, make haste! You don't know how hungry we are."
"I must run out and get some coals, dear child," said the mother. "You'll lay still, wont you?"
"Yes, mother."
"Kiss this, my dear," said the mother, with a sob, placing the wedding-ring to Sally's lips.
Sally, without any understanding of her mother's meaning, kissed the ring, and then kissed her mother, whose tears bathed her neck.
"Don't cry, mother," said Sally; "it ain't your fault."
"Heaven knows it ain't, my sweet," replied the mother; and with a heart made lighter by Sally's embrace, ran out, and soon returned with wood and coals.