"Something so bad, you could never think it was true," said Matilda, making vain efforts to dry off the tears which kept welling freshly forth.
"Have you lost something?"
"I? O no; I haven't got any thing to lose. Nothing particular, I mean. But I have seen such a place"—
"A place?" said David, very much puzzled. "What about the place?"
"Oh, David, such a place! And people live there!"—Matilda could not get on.
David was curious. He stood and waited, while Matilda sobbed and tried to stop and talk to him. For, seeing that he wanted to hear, it was a sort of satisfaction to tell to some one what filled her heart. And at last, being patient, he managed to get a tolerably clear report of the case. He did not run off at once then. He stood still looking at Matilda.
"It's disgraceful," he said. "It didn't use to be so among my people."
"And, oh David, what can we do? What can I do? I don't feel as if I could bear to think that Sarah must sleep in that place to-night. Why the floor was just earth, damp and wet. And not a bedstead—just think! What can I do, David?"
"I don't see that you can do much. You cannot build houses to lodge all the poor of the city. That would take a good deal of money; more than you have got, little one."
"But—I can't reach them all, but I can do something for this one," said Matilda. "I must do something."