"Don't mention it, Billy," responded the woman. "Any of us would fight for it to help you or the kid, wouldn't we, Midge?"
"I don't know why," answered the lad in a weary way. "I ain't much good any more."
"Now hear that ungrateful boy!" rallied Miss Nellis. "Billy, the doctor says his whole trouble was poisoned canned stuff, bad water and a cold. He's broken the fever. Here's some medicine. Every hour a spoonful until gone, and doctor says he'll be fit as ever in a day or two."
"That's good," said the clown, a lone tear trickling down his cheek. "I wish I could afford the hotel for the lad, instead of this rough-and-tumble shack life, but my wife's hospital bills drain me pretty well."
"Never mind. Better times coming, Billy. Don't you get disheartened," cheered the little woman. "Remember now, don't miss that medicine."
Miss Nellis went away. Andy heard poor Billy sigh as he adjusted the larger mattress.
"There's your bunk," he said to Andy. "Marco will see you early in the morning."
Andy took off his coat and shoes and lay down on the rude bed. He watched Midget tracing the outlines of a picture with his white finger in a book Miss Nellis had brought him.
Andy saw the clown go over to a stool and place a homely, old-fashioned watch and a spoon and medicine bottle Miss Nellis had given him upon it.
Then Blow came back to the big mattress and sat down on it. He bent his face in his hands in a tired way. Every minute he would sway with sleepiness, start up, and try to keep awake.