CHAPTER XVIII.
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.
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