"Dr. Berger has been to see that little boy," he said.
"Has he! And what does he say?"
"Says nothing ails him but want."
"Want?" Matilda repeated.
"Want, of everything. Specially, want of food—food good for anything; and of air."
"Want of air!" cried Matilda. "I don't wonder at it. I felt as if I should be unable to breathe if we staid there much longer. And I was strong and well. Just think, to anybody sick!—"
"He says, if he could be taken into the country he would begin to get well immediately; and he asked Mrs. Binn if she had friends anywhere out of the city."
"What did she say?"
"Said her father and mother and her aunt were all dead long ago; and that he hadn't a friend in the city or out of it. And she gave up work then for a minute or two, and sat down with her apron over her head; the only time I have seen her stop work at all. I think it was her apron, but I don't know; she hid her face in something. But she didn't cry, Matilda; not a drop."
"What can we do, David?"