“Then there’s no room for my Dolly?” he said.

The lady shook her head without speaking, for she had her handkerchief up to her face.

“Eh!” cried old Oliver in a wailing voice, “I don’t know whatever the dear Lord ’ill say to that.”

He made a sign to Tony that they must be going home again; and the boy raised himself up with a strange weight and burden upon his heart.  Old Oliver put his stick down, and took Dolly into his own arms, and laid her head down on his breast.

“Let me carry her a little way, Tony,” he said.  “She’s as light as a feather, even to poor old grandpa.  I’d like to carry my little love a bit of the way home.”

“I’ll tell you what I can do,” said the lady, wrapping Dolly up and kissing her before she covered her pale face, “if you will tell me where you live I will speak to the doctor as soon as he comes in—­for he is out just now—­and perhaps he will come to see her.  He knows a great deal about children, and is fond of them.”

“Thank you, thank you kindly, ma’am,” answered old Oliver, feeling a little comforted.  But when they stood outside, and the bleak wind blew about them, and he could see the soft glimmer of the light in the windows, within which other children were safely sheltered and carefully tended, his spirit sank again.  He tottered now and then under his light burden; but he could not be persuaded to give up his little child to Tony again.  These streets were quiet, with handsome houses on each side, and from one and another there came bursts of music and laughter as they passed by; yet Tony could catch most of the words which the old man was speaking.

[Illustration:  No room for Dolly]

“Dear Lord,” he said, “there’s only room for seventy-five of thy little lambs that are pining and wasting away in every dark street and alley like mine.  Whatever can thy people be thinking about?  They’ve got their own dear little children, who are ill sometimes, spite of all their care; and they can send for the doctor, and do all that’s possible, never looking at the money it costs; but when they are well again they never think of the poor little ones who are sick and dying, with nobody to help them or care for them as I care for this little one.  Oh, Lord, Lord! let my little love live!  Yet thou knows what is best, and thou’lt do what is best.  Thou loves her more than I do; and see, Lord, she is very ill indeed.”

They reached home at last, after a weary and heartbroken journey, and carried Dolly in and laid her upon old Oliver’s bed.  She was wide awake now, and looked very peaceful, smiling quietly into both their faces as they bent over her.  Tony gazed deep down into her eyes, and met a glance from them which sent a strange tremor through him.  He crept silently away, and stole into his dark bed under the counter, where he stretched himself upon his face, and buried his mouth in the chaff pillow to choke his sobs.  What was going to happen to Dolly?  What could it be that made him afraid of looking again into her patient and tranquil little face?