He pointed to what had once been a fine old house of stuccoed brick, with a square front porch and green shutters which were sagging on loosened hinges.  On the walls where the stucco had peeled away, the red brick showed in splotches, and the pillars of the porch, which had been white, were now speckled with yellow stains.  Over the whole place, with its air of fallen respectability, there hung the depressing smell of mingled dust, stale cooking, and bad tobacco.  A number of imposing and well-preserved houses stood on the block, for of the whole neighbourhood, it appeared to the girl, they had chosen the most dilapidated dwelling and the one which was most crowded with children.

“We’re here all right.  Don’t go so fast,” remarked Gershom, as they ascended the steps.  “It ain’t going to run away from you.”  Bending down he picked up a crying urchin from the steps.  “Lost your ball, have you?  Well, I expect if you dig deep enough in my pocket, you can find it again.  Hello!  You’ve got a punch, ain’t you, sonny?  A regular John L., I reckon.”  Putting the child down, he continued sheepishly to Patty:  “I always had a soft spot for the kids.  Never could pass one in the street without stopping.”

On the porch, beside a broken perambulator, which contained a black-eyed baby with a bottle of milk, a stout man sat reading the afternoon paper, while with one hand he patiently pushed the rickety carriage back and forth.  As they reached the porch, he laid aside his paper, and rose with his hand still on the perambulator.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said, “Mr. Gershom.”

“I’ve brought this lady to see Mrs. Green,” returned Gershom.  “How is she?”

The stout man shook his head and surveyed Patty curiously but not discourteously.  He had a kindly, humorous look, and she felt at once that she preferred his blunt frankness to Gershom’s facetious insincerity.  There was something in his face that suggested the black-eyed baby sucking placidly at the rubber nipple on the bottle of milk.

“She’s worse if anything.  The doctor came this morning.”  The baby, having dropped the bottle, lifted a despairing wail, and the father bent over and replaced the nipple gently between the quivering lips.  “The rent was due yesterday,” he added, “I understood that there was to be no trouble about it.”

“Oh, there’s no trouble about that.  I’m responsible,” replied Gershom quickly.  He was about to pass on; but changing his mind, he stopped and drew out his pocket book.  “I’ll settle it now.  Are there any extras?”

“Yes, she’s had to have eggs and milk, and there have been medicines.  It comes to twelve dollars in all.  I’ll show you the account.”

“Very well.  Get anything that she needs.”  Then, as Gershom followed Patty into the hall, he pointed to the fine old staircase.  “It’s the back room.  Go straight up.  You ain’t timid, are you?”