"No, no, not there! I was driven to it," she said huskily, "she was so hungry; I had nothing for her—she cried so dreadfully. I had sold everything; I had had nothing to eat since yesterday morning, and I could not see her starve, so I started. But, oh, my baby, it is so hungry!"
She looked down on its wee pinched face, and wrapped her thin tattered shawl closely round it again protectingly, and, oh, so tenderly.
"My poor girl, you are very ill," said the doctor; "but if you will come to a good woman I know of, she will take care both of you and baby; should you like that?"
"Not be separated?" she exclaimed, looking up at him. "Oh, say that again! How can I part with my baby?"
"Yes," he said, "you shall be together. It is not far from here."
The crowd had begun to disperse. Several small coins had been placed in the doctor's hands for the woman's relief, and he looked round now at the shops near. A chemist's was close, and next door to it a second-rate coffee-house. He told the poor creature he would be back in a moment, and hastened in and asked for a cup of coffee. The woman who was serving had seen the commotion, and quickly poured out some, asking, as was natural, "What is the matter, sir?"
"Dying of consumption and starvation," he answered.
"Oh, sir!" said the woman.
"Too true; there is many a respectable woman who goes down, and down, and down, and dies at last, sooner than ask for help."
He took the cup, and returned to the dying woman. He poured a little in the saucer, and put it to her lips.