“Next door,” he answered, still shyly. Somehow he felt childishly and unaccountably that he had not been as faithful to this oldest friend as he might have been, and oh! how pleased he was to see him again, to know he was actually in the room, strong and healthy, so unlike himself. “Has she been there long?” “No--they came on Monday. She lives with her aunt. I--I--thought you’d like her.” “She would be all right if she took more pains to dress herself decently. I don’t approve of women being in rags. What does she do?” “Nothing, I don’t think. I liked her being in rags, it made us more friendly. I thought she was an angel till she told me to look at her dress, then I knew she was only poor like me. But indeed, Dr Quack, she is very clean with the rags; and when you put your head on her shoulder, it is as sweet as violets.” But the doctor shrugged his shoulders, as if this scarcely appealed to him. “Who brought you the grapes?” he asked, looking round. “She did.” “Where does she get her money from?” “I expect when people see how beautiful she is they give it her. She can dance and sing, you know.” “Umph!” Then in a different voice he said: “Well, what have you been doing since I went away?” “Have you been away?” “Yes. I was called away unexpectedly, that is why I never came to see you. Is the cough better?” “It gets worser, I think. The night before last it was very bad--so bad, that I thought you’d be sure to come for me.” Their eyes met--the wonderful shadowy eyes with their marvellous depths of beauty and expression, and the brilliant fever-stricken ones with their haunting expression of weakness and disease. And then very quietly he got up off the table, and lifted the boy very gently out of the chair, and sat down himself, setting him on his knee. It was plain little Tim had been there often before, by the way he nestled up to the broad shoulder, and the look of peace and satisfaction on his face. And the strong arm went round him as tenderly as a woman’s. “I’ll come for you some day, Timothy, all in good time. You’ll have to suffer a little bit first, but you’ll be brave over it. We all have to suffer sometimes, you know; and yours will be less than others have to bear, and you need not fear, for when you really need me, I shall be with you. Now it’s bedtime, you can sleep as long as you like. I’ve got all the morning papers here with me; whilst you sleep, I’ll read.” And soon the little head was still, the eyelids closed, and the hard, heavy breathing alone broke the silence. Thus over an hour passed away--Mr Barringcourt, preoccupied in reading, quite unaware that Alice had twice come and peeped discreetly through the window. Then at last the child moved, and presently awoke. “Over an hour this time, Timothy. You will have less pain to-night. You see this little bottle? Ask your mother to give you a teaspoonful in water. You’ll sleep like a trooper then--snore like one too.”