NO ROOM FOR DOLLY.
Old Oliver rang the house-bell very quietly, for Dolly seemed to be
asleep again, and lay quite still in Tony's arms, which were growing
stiff, and benumbed by the cold. The door was opened by a porter,
whose face was strange to them both, for he had only come in for the
day while the usual one took holiday. Old Oliver presented himself
in front, and pointed at his little grandchild as Tony held her in
his arms while he spoke to the porter in a voice which trembled
greatly.
"We've brought you our little girl, who is very ill," he said, "but
she'll soon get well in here, I know. I'd like to see the doctor,
and tell him all about her."
"We're quite full," answered the porter, filling up the doorway.
"Full?" repeated old Oliver, in a tone of questioning.
"Ay! all our cots are full," he replied, "chockfull. There ain't no
more room. We've turned two or three away this morning, when they
came at the right time. This isn't the right time to bring any child
here."
"But my little love is very ill," continued old Oliver; "this is the
right place, isn't it? The place where they nurse little children
who are ill?"
"It's all right," said the porter, "it's the right place enough, only
it's brimful, and running over, as you may say. We couldn't take in
one more, if it was ever so. But you may come in and sit down in the
hall for a minute or two, while I fetch one of the ladies."
Old Oliver and Tony entered, and sat down upon a bench inside. There
was the broad staircase, with its shallow steps, which Dolly's tiny
feet had climbed so easily, and it led up to the warm, pleasant
nurseries, where little children were already falling asleep, almost
painlessly, in their cosy cots. Tony could not believe that there
was not room for their darling, who had been so willing to come to
the place she knew so well, yet a sob broke from his lips, which
disturbed Dolly in her sleep, for she moaned once or twice, and
stirred uneasily in his arms. The old man leaned his hands upon the
top of his stick, and rested his white head upon them, until they
heard light footsteps, and the rustling of a dress, and they saw a
lady coming down stairs to them.
"I think there's some mistake here, ma'am," said Oliver, his eye
wandering absently about the large entrance-hall; "this is the
Hospital for Sick Children, I think, and I've brought my little
grandchild here, who is very ill indeed, yet the man at the door says
there's no room for her. I think it must be a mistake."
"No," said the lady; "I am sorry to say it is no mistake. We are
quite full; there is not room for even one more. Indeed, we have
been obliged to send cases away before to-day. Who is your
recommendation from?"
"I didn't know you'd want any recommendation," answered old Oliver,
very mournfully; "she's very ill, and you could cure her here, and
take better care of her than Tony and me, and I thought that was
enough. I never thought of getting any recommendation, and I don't
know where I could get one."
"Mr. Ross 'ud give us one," said Tony, eagerly.
"Yet even then," answered the lady, "we could not take her in until
some of the cots are empty."
"You don't know me," interrupted Tony, eagerly; "but Mr. Ross brought
me here, a year ago now, and they cured me, and set me up stronger
than ever. They was so wery kind to me, that I couldn't think of
anythink else save bringing our little girl to 'em. I'm sure they'd
take her in, if they only knew it was her. You jest say as it's Tony
and Dolly, as everybody took such notice of, and they'll never turn
her away, I'm sure."
"I wish we could take her," said the lady, with tears in her eyes;
"but it is impossible. We should be obliged to turn some other child
out, and that could not be done to-night. You had better bring her
again in the morning, and we'll see if there is any one well enough
to make room for her. Let me look at the poor child for a minute."
She lifted up the collar of Tony's bluejacket, which covered Dolly's
face, and looked down at it pitifully. It was quite white now, and
was pinched and hollow, with large blue eyes shining too brightly.
She stretched out her arms to the lady, and made a great effort to
smile.
"Put Dolly into a pretty bed," she murmured, "where the sun shines,
and she'll soon get well and go home again to gan-pa."
"What can I do?" cried the lady, the tears now running down her face.
"The place is quite full; we cannot take in one more, not one. Bring
her here again in the morning, and we will see what can be done."
"How many children have you got here?" asked old Oliver.
"We have only seventy-five cots," she answered, sobbing; "and in a
winter like this they're always full."
"Only seventy-five!" repeated the old man, very sorrowfully. "Only
seventy-five, and there are hundreds and hundreds of little children
ill in London! They are ill in houses like mine, where the sun never
shines. Is there no other place like this we could take our little
love to?"
"There are two or three other Hospitals," she answered, "but they are
a long way off, and none of them as large as ours. They are sure to
be full just now. I think there are not more than a hundred and
fifty cots in all London for sick children."
"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.
[Illustration: NO ROOM FOR DOLLY.]
"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.
"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?