my troubled looks, took me on one side. 'What's the matter?'
"'I'm sorry to trouble you, sir,' I began.
"'No ceremony, man. Speak out.'
"'I'm looking for Doctor Faron, to come and save my child, sir. He's dying with croup. I'm not rich, but all I can raise I will give.'
"'Oh! that's all right,' says he. 'How old's the child.'
"'Four years old, sir.'
"'Who's been attending it?'
"'A doctor who gives him little white pills in a heap of water, sir.'
"'Ah! hah!' says he, smiling; 'well, don't be downhearted,' and with that he threw off his apron and black sleeves, and wrote something on a bit of paper.'
"Take this to Doctor Faron. That's his address. Where do you live? I'll come when I get my coat on.'
"'Oh! how kind, sir!'
"I could have hugged him. But he said, 'Come, no nonsense, friend. Away with you!' So I hurried off to Doctor Faron's house, with the note; but he was dining out.
"'Where?' I asked, as the servant held the door ajar.
"'Don't know,' says he, very short; and shut the door in my face.
"At that I got angry, and it seemed to me the