The settlement of all his debts had left him almost a beggar. He owed not a shilling, except to the doctor, who had said nothing about his account; the week's money for the nurse was carefully put away: he could not have afforded to engage her for a longer term, for all the money he had left in the world amounted to barely two pounds. What was he to do when that was spent? Commence business again upon borrowed capital? That seemed to be the only course open to him. But who would lend it to him? It was no small sum that would be required, and all his friends, with the exception of Mr. Moss, were poor. Mr. Moss was comparatively a new friend, and he could not expect him to render such substantial assistance without security. And what security could he offer but his own bare word? There were money-lenders; the newspapers teemed with their advertisements. It would be folly to apply to any one of them for so large a loan as fifty pounds, which sum, he calculated, was the least he could begin business again with; he would be sure to be met with a refusal. But what was he to do? He thrust these worldly contemplations aside, and indeed it was impossible for him to dwell upon them with a heavier sorrow at his door, and with a dread crisis so very near. He trusted in God--yes; but he knew that a man must work for his livelihood. Well, he would work; he was willing and ready for any honest occupation; but he must wait--for what? He became confused. The pressing worldly necessity, with its exacting and imperative demands, and the overwhelming human sorrow were contending for supremacy. He stepped into the passage, and softly ascending the stairs, listened at Rachel's door. As he stood there the nurse came out. "Go for the doctor," she whispered. He flew. There was no conflict now in his mind between the two extremities; his worldly trouble was forgotten; he thought only of his beloved wife and their unborn child. The doctor was not in, but was expected in a quarter of an hour, and would be sure to come round at once. Leaving an urgent entreaty not to delay a moment, Aaron hastened back to his house, and on the road found himself intercepted by Prissy, who had grown taller but no stouter since the night upon which she introduced herself to him. By reason of her increased height she looked thinner and scraggier than ever; as usual, Victoria Regina, who had grown plumper and rounder, was in the girl's arms. "Mr. Cohen, Mr. Cohen!" cried Prissy. "I can't stop now," he replied, passing her quickly. But Prissy's long legs were as active as his, and though Victoria Regina was a heavy weight to carry, she kept pace with him. "D'yer know wot some people's saying about yer, Mr. Cohen?" "Never mind, never mind, my good girl; I have no time to listen." "They're saying, everybody is," persisted Prissy, "that yer as good as ruined, and that yer 'aven't got a shilling left to pay yer way with."