"I'll let you judge how ridiculous they are," said David; and he told about the sick boy and Mrs. Binn's six foot apartment. Norton's face would not unbend.
"Is that the only sick child in New York?" he asked.
"I am afraid not."
"Then what are you going to do about the others?"
"Help as many of them as ever I can," David answered gravely.
"Go on, and your money will go too. That's what I said," Norton responded. "Matilda will be only too glad to help you and throw in all her pennies."
"How would you like to be sick, old fellow, with no lemons at hand, and no grapes?"
"And no wine, Norton, and no sago, and no clean sheets? I know who likes to have his bed changed often. And no cups of tea, and soda biscuit, and blancmange, and jelly, and nice slices of toast."
"What do they have?" Norton asked with some curiosity.
"Some coarse mush; now and then a piece of dry bread; and water. Not ice water, Norton; no ice gets up there."