d!" said she. "The idea! just when my lodgers will be coming
home to bed too!"

"It's only eight o'clock; no one will come till ten. There'll be plenty
of time."

"What's the use? You know as well as I do the child won't last above a
day or two in his state. What's the use of making a disturbance for
nothing?" said the woman.

"He won't die--he shall not die!" said Reginald, feeling in his heart
how foolish the words were. "At any rate, I must fetch a doctor. I
might have fetched one without saying a word to you, but I promised I
wouldn't, and now I want you to let me off the promise."

The woman fretted and fumed, and wished ill to the day when she had ever
seen either Reginald or Love. He bore her vituperation patiently, as it
was his only chance of getting his way.

Presently she said, "If you're bent on it, go to Mr Pilch, round the
corner; he's the only doctor I'll let come in my house. You can have
him or nobody, that's flat!"

In two minutes Reginald was battering wildly at Mr Pilch's door. That
gentleman--a small dealer in herbs, who eked out his livelihood by
occasional unauthorised medical practice--happened to be in, and
offered, for two shillings, to come and see the sick boy. Reginald
tossed down the coin with eager thankfulness, and almost dragged him to
the bedside of his little charge.

Mr Pilch may have known very little of medicine, but he knew enough to
make him shake his head as he saw the boy.

"Regular bad case that. Smallpox and half a dozen things on the top of
it. I can't do anything."

"Can you give me no medicine for him, or tell me what food he ought to
take or what? Surely there's a _chance_ of his getting better?"

Mr Pilch laughed quietly.

"About as much chance of his pulling through that as of jumping over the
moon. The kindest thing you can do is to let him die as soon as he can.
He may last a day or two. If you want to feed him, give him anything
he will take, and that won't be much, you'll find. It's a bad case,
young fellow, and it won't do you any good to stop too near him. No use
my coming again. Good-night."

And the brusque but not unkindly little quack trotted away, leaving
Reginald in the dark without a gleam of hope to comfort him.

"Gov'nor," said the weak little voice from the bed, "that there doctor
says I are a-goin' to die, don't he?"

"He says you're very ill, old boy, but let's hope you'll soon be
better."

"Me--no fear. On'y I wis