"Is this Mrs. Haggerty?" he asked.
"I am," she answered; "what do you want?"
"Mr. Varnum sent these things," replied Rattleton. "He couldn't come himself because he has been hurt, and is in the hospital."
"Is that so? Sure, I'm sorry to hear that," said the woman with real regret in her tone. "Mr. Varnum has been kind to us, I tell you. He's helped me with my boy Jimmy here ever since he's been sick."
"Dat's too bad," complained a thin voice from the corner. On the other side of the lamp was a bed, from under the dirty quilt of which protruded a little pale face. "Ain't he coming to read to me? What's de matter wid him?"
Jack explained, with an accompaniment of sympathetic "tut-tuts" from the woman and more forcible expressions from the sick boy.
"I'm obliged to him for the things," said the former, as Rattleton handed her his burden. She looked at the bottle with a puzzled and half-frightened air.
"That's the first time ever Mr. Varnum give us anythin' like that. The poor young feller must be dizzed, by the hurt of him. I'll hide that." And to Rattleton's horror she shoved the bottle of Irroy under the stove.
"Would you do me a bit of a favor, sir," she asked, "like Mr. Varnum would do?"
"With pleasure,—that is if I can," answered Jack, cautiously, wondering what she wanted, and with a dread that it might be in the nature of religious services.