These thoughts kept Christie awake a long time that night; he turned restlessly on his pillow, and felt very troubled and anxious. The moonlight streamed into the room, and fell on old Treffy's face as he lay on his bed in the corner. Christie raised himself on his elbow, and looked at him. Yes, he did look very wasted and ill. Oh, how he hoped Treffy would not go away, as his mother had done, and leave him behind!
And Christie cried himself to sleep that night.
The next day he watched about on the stairs till the landlady's doctor came. Old Treffy thought him very idle because he would not go out with the organ; but Christie put him off with first one excuse and then another, and kept looking out of the window and down the court, that he might see the doctor's carriage stop at the entrance.
When at last the doctor came, Christie watched him go into the landlady's room and sat at the door till he came out. He shut the door quickly after him, and was running down the steps, when he heard an eager voice calling after him.
"Please, sir, please, sir," said Christie.
"Well, my boy, what do you want?" said the doctor.
"Please, sir—don't be cross, sir, but if you would walk upstairs a minute into the attic, sir; it's old Treffy, and he's ever so poorly."
"Who is old Treffy?" asked the doctor.
"He's my old master; that's to say, he takes care of me,—at least it's me that takes care of him, please, sir."
The doctor did not quite know what to make of this lucid explanation. However, he turned round and began slowly to ascend the attic stairs.