'She'd prefer dying above-ground, no doubt; and if you relish fleecing, you'll get her an upper room--but she's got to die soon any way, and a day or two, more or less, down there, won't make any difference. Take my advice--don't throw your money away, and don't stay here too late; the house has a very hard name, and some of its rough customers would think nothing of throttling a spruce young fellow like you.' 'I thank you, doctor, but I think I'll run the risk--at least for a while,' and I laughed good-humoredly at the benevolent gentleman's caution. 'Well, if you lose your small change, don't charge it to me.' Saying this, he bade me 'good-night.' He found the door locked, barred, and secured by the large chain, and he was obliged to summon the woman. When she had let him out, I asked her into the parlor. 'Who is this sick person?' I inquired. 'I don't know, sir. She never gave me no name but Fanny. I found her and her little boy on the door-step, one night, nigh a month ago. She was crying hard, and seemed very sick, and little Franky was a-trying to comfort her--he's a brave, noble little fellow, sir. She told me she'd been turned out of doors for not paying her rent, and was afeared she'd die in the street, though she didn't seem to care much about that, except for the boy--she took on terrible about him. She didn't know what _would_ become of him. I've to scrape very hard to get along, sir, for times is hard, and my rent is a thousand dollars; but I couldn't see her die there, so I took her in, and put a bed up in the basement, and let her have it. 'Twas all I could do; but, poor thing! she won't want even that long.' 'It was very good of you. How has she obtained food?' 'The little boy sells papers and ballads about the streets. The newsman round the corner trusts him for 'em, and he's managed to make twenty-five cents or more most every day.' 'Can't you give her another room? She should not die where she is.' 'I know she shouldn't, sir, but I hain't got another--all of 'em is taken up; and besides, sir,' and she hesitated a moment, 'the noise up here would disturb her.' I had not thought of that; and expressing myself gratified with her kindness, I passed down again to the basement. The sick girl smiled as I opened the door, and held out her hand again to me. Taking it in mine, I asked: 'Do you feel better?' 'Much better,' she said, in a voice stronger than before. 'I have not felt so well for a long time. I owe it to you, sir! I am very grateful.' 'Don't speak of it, madam. Won't you have more of the broth?' 'No more, thank you. I won't trouble you any more, sir--I shan't trouble any one long;' and her eyes filled, and her voice quivered; 'but, O sir! my child! my little boy! What _will_ become of him when I'm gone?' and she burst into a hysterical fit of weeping. 'Don't weep so, madam. Calm yourself; such excitement will kill you. God will provide for your child. I will try to help him, madam.'