“What’s all this?  What’s that little wretch been doing now, ha?”

“I wish I’d never seen him!” muttered Sharp, but in a tone that left no doubt on the mind of his wife that something more than usually annoying had occurred.

“What’s the matter?  What’s he been doing?  Not stealing, I hope; though I shouldn’t wonder.”

“He’s sick, and you’ve got to take care of him,” was the dogged answer of Sharp.

“Sick!  He looks sick, don’t he?” The tones of the virago were full of contempt.

Any eye but hers would have seen sickness, sorrow, suffering, and want in the pale, frightened face of the poor boy, as he stood trembling beside the counter, and actually clinging to it for support.

“Who was that in here, just now?” she added.

“Doctor R—­, of Boston,” replied the hatter, who knew the doctor by sight very well.

“What did he want?”

“He picked Henry up in the street and took him over to the drug store at the corner.  Then he brought him home in his carriage.  He says that he must be taken care of, or he will become a cripple; that it’s the worst case of chilblains he ever saw; and that his feet are in danger of mortification.”

“I don’t believe a word of it.  Here I you go off up-stairs,” speaking sharply, and with a threatening look to the child.  “I’d like to know what business he has to come here, meddling in affairs that don’t concern him.”

Henry, thus spoken to, let go of the counter, by which he was sustaining himself, and attempted to move toward the door.  As he did so, his face grew deadly pale.  He staggered across the shop, fell against the wall, and then sank down upon the floor.  Mrs. Sharp sprang toward him, not with any humane intention, we are sorry to say; but, ere she had grasped the boy’s arm, and given him the purposed jerk, the sight of his ashen, lifeless face prevented the outrage.  Exhausted nature could bear nothing more, and protected herself in a temporary suspension of her power.  Henry had fainted, and it was well that it was so.  The fact was a stronger argument in his favor than any external exhibition of suffering that could have been given.

The hatter and his wife were both alarmed at an event so unexpected by either of them.  Henry was quickly removed to a chamber, and every effort made to restore him.  It was not a very long time before the machinery of life was again in motion; its action, however, was feeble, as even his oppressors could see.  Self-interest, and fear of consequences, if not humanity, prompted more consideration for the boy, and secured for him a few days respite.  After that, the oppressed and his oppressors assumed their old relations.

CHAPTER IX.

Lizzy Glenn finds in Mrs. Gaston an old friend.

“I don’t think I’ve seen any thing of Lizzy Glenn for a week,” remarked Berlaps to his man Michael one day during the latter part of December.  “Has she any thing out?”