“Oh, yes, sir! She has sent me to the Sisters to try to get some medicine.”
“Is she sick?” asked Fred, quickly.
“Yes, sir,” continued the child.
“What floor does she live on? I will stop in and see her.”
“Oh, you’ll see her! She’s in the room, too.”
“Then you are Mr. Cressy’s little girl?”
“Yes, sir.”
So Fred patted her on the head and told her to hurry over to the Sisters in Eleventh Street, and gave her ten cents to ride in the horse-cars; and then he opened the door for her, and as soon as she had left he felt his way back to the staircase and climbed to the fifth floor.
There he knocked upon a door, which was soon opened by a man apparently forty years of age, a man of slightly foreign appearance, with a careworn look, but with as honest a face as you could find anywhere.
“Is this Mr. Cressy?” asked Fred.