We should be obliged to turn some other child out, and
that could not be done to-night. You had better bring her again in the
morning, and we'll see if there is any one well enough to make room for
her. Let me look at the poor child for a minute."
She lifted up the collar of Tony's blue jacket, which covered Dolly's
face, and looked down at it pitifully. It was quite white now, and was
pinched and hollow, with large blue eyes shining too brightly. She
stretched out her arms to the lady, and made a great effort to smile.
"Put Dolly into a pretty bed," she murmured, "where the sun shines, and
she'll soon get well and go home again to gan-pa."
"What can I do?" cried the lady, the tears now running down her face.
"The place is quite full; we cannot take in one more, not one. Bring her
here again in the morning, and we will see what can be done."
"How many children have you got here?" asked old Oliver.
"We have only seventy-five cots," she answered, sobbing; "and in a winter
like this they're always full."
"Only seventy-five!" repeated the old man, very sorrowfully. "Only
seventy-five, and there are hundreds and hundreds of little children ill
in London! They are ill in houses like mine, where the sun never shines.
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