"Is that the only sick child in New York?" he asked.

"I am afraid not."

"Then what are you going to do about the others?"

"Help as many of them as ever I can," David answered gravely.

"Go on, and your money will go too. That's what I said," Norton responded. "Matilda will be only too glad to help you and throw in all her pennies."

"How would you like to be sick, old fellow, with no lemons at hand, and no grapes?"

"And no wine, Norton, and no sago, and no clean sheets? I know who likes to have his bed changed often. And no cups of tea, and soda biscuit, and blancmange, and jelly, and nice slices of toast."

"What _do_ they have?" Norton asked with some curiosity.

"Some coa.r.s.e mush; now and then a piece of dry bread; and water. Not ice water, Norton; no ice gets up there."

"Bread and water," said Norton, summing up.

"And to lie in a corner of the entry, Norton, under the roof, because there is no room for you in the only room they have; and no open window ever; and oh, such want of it!"

"Look here!" exclaimed Norton, seizing upon a diversion, "how came you, Davy, to take Pink to such a place? I just want to know."

"Not a place for a Pink, I acknowledge," said David. "I didn't know myself, Norton, till I got there, what sort of a place it was; or she would not have gone."

"Upon my word!" said Norton. "This is what your goodness is up to.

Mamma--"

"Hush," said David good-humouredly; "she is not going there again, I tell you. Come here and sit down, and tell us what you think ought to be done about such a case."

"The city ought to manage it," said Norton grumly, sitting down however.

"How shall we get the city to manage it?"

"I don't know. Davy Bartholomew! you'll never make me understand that it is our business to look up all the people that want something or other and give them all they want until our own hands are empty."

"You are dealing in generals," said David smiling. "Come back to the particular case. What ought we to do about this?"

"How came you to know of it?"

"We were told."

"Well--there must be poor people in the world," said Norton; "there always were and there always will be."

"I suppose so. And the question is, what ought we to do for them?"

"You can't do much," said Norton. "You can make yourself poor, easy enough. Then you'll expect Judy and me to take care of _you_."

"Are you afraid of that, Norton?" said Matilda laughingly.

"No, Pink, I am not," said Norton; "but you and Davy are just in the way to get into trouble. There's no bottom to New York mud."

"Norton," said David, "will you grant that we ought to do in this matter as the word of G.o.d says?"

"It don't say we are to make fools of ourselves," Norton responded.

"Yes it does," said Matilda quickly. Both her hearers looked at her.

"I don't believe it," said Norton.

"Where?" asked David.

"I can't tell,--but I know it's there. If I had that little reference Bible, Davy;--it's up in your room--"

"Yes, I can get it," said David; "but wouldn't a Concordance be better for you? I'll fetch one."

"What are you talking about, children?" said Mrs. Bartholomew, as David went out of the room.

"We have got into a knot, aunt Judith," said Norton. "Don't _you_ get in, or we shall never get out."

"_Do_ get in, mamma," urged Judy, "or David will be tied up. Matilda holding one end of the string, and Norton the other, between them they'll fix him."

"David is able to cut his own knots, or other people's," said Mrs.

Bartholomew coolly. "What is all this about, David?"

David had come back in a minute with the Concordance, which he handed to Matilda. "It's a question of Scripture, mamma," he answered. Mrs.

Bartholomew said "Oh!"--and turned away. But Mrs. Lloyd watched the group. Matilda was earnestly searching in the pages of the Concordance; David sat waiting, with a little curiosity; Norton with impatient defiance. Matilda was busy for some minutes with one page and another; then, "Here it is!" she said; and looked up. She saw that Mrs. Lloyd's attention was fixed, and that Mrs. Laval also was listening. She glanced at Norton, then met David's eyes; and then bent her head over her book and read.

"'Let no man deceive himself. If any man among you seemeth to be wise in this world, let him become a fool, that he may be wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with G.o.d.' And then again in the next chapter--'We are fools for Christ's sake.'"

How would her various hearers take the words? She would not look up to see.

"I am content," said David.

"With what, Davy my dear?" asked his aunt.

"Content to be a fool for Christ's sake, aunt Zara."

"Is there any necessity?" she asked gently.

"Seems so," said David smiling. "At least, it seems that one must be judged so, aunt Zara."

"Can't it be avoided by judicious action, Davy?"

"Come and see, aunt Zara. Draw up here and join our consultation," said the boy, with a certain sweet gracefulness which won her to do just what he asked. She took a chair nearer the group.

"The question is, aunt Zara, what we ought to do for certain poor creatures that we know of."

"Not for _them_," burst in Norton, interrupting, "but for all the rest.