"Den I bay you cash for de goots undt you go undt puy new--ain'dt idt?"

But Lyddy wasn't thinking of buying new furniture--not at all. She opened the door wider.

"Come in and look," she invited. "What will you pay?"

"Clodings, too?" he asked, shrewdly.

"No, no! We will keep the clothing, bedding and kitchenware, and the like.

Just the furniture."

The man went through the flat quickly, but his bright, beady eyes missed nothing. Finally he said:

"I gif you fifteen tollar, lady."

"Oh, no! that is too little," gasped Lyddy.

She had begun to figure mentally what it would cost to replace even the poor little things they had. And yet, if she could get any fair price for the goods she was almost tempted to sell out.

"Lady! believe me, I make a goot offer," declared the man. "But I must make it a profit--no?"

"I couldn't sell for so little."

"How much you vant, den?" he asked shrewdly.

"Oh! a great deal more than that. Ten dollars more, at least."

"Twenty-fife tollars!" he cried, wringing his hands. "Belief me, lady, I shouldt be shtuck!"

His use of English would have amused Lyddy at another time; but the girl's mind was set upon something more important. If she only _could_ get enough money together to carry them all to Hillcrest Farm--and to keep them going for a while!

"Fifteen dollars would not do me much good, I am afraid," the girl said.

"Oh, lady! you could buy a whole new house-furnishings mit so much money down--undt pay for de rest on de installment."

"No," replied Lyddy, firmly. "I want to get away from here altogether. I want to get out into the country. My father is sick; we had to send him to the hospital last night."

The second-hand man shook his head. "You vas a kindt-hearted lady," he said, with less of his professional whine. "I gif you twenty."

And above that sum Lyddy could not move him. But she would not decide then and there. She felt that she must see her father, and consult with 'Phemie, and possibly talk to Aunt Jane, too.

"You come here to-morrow morning and I'll tell you," she said, finally.

She locked the flat again and followed the man down the long flights to the street. It was not far to the hospital and Lyddy did not arrive there much before the visitors' hour.

The house physician called her into his office before she went up to the ward in which her father had been placed. Already she was a.s.sured that he was comfortable, so the keenness of her anxiety was allayed.

"What are your circ.u.mstances, Miss Bray?" demanded the medical head of the hospital, bluntly. "I mean your financial circ.u.mstances?"

"We--we are poor, sir. And we were burned out last night, and have no insurance. I do not know what we really shall do--yet."

"You are the house-mother--eh?" he demanded.

"I am the oldest. There are only Euphemia and me, beside poor papa----"

"Well, it's regarding your father I must speak. He's in a bad way. We can do him little good here, save that he will rest and have nourishing food.

But if he goes back to work again----"

"I know it's bad for him!" cried Lyddy, with clasped hands. "But what can we do? He _will_ crawl out to the shop as long as they will let him come----"

"He'll not crawl out for a couple of weeks--I'll see to that," said the doctor, grimly. "He'll stay here. But beyond that time I cannot promise.

Our public wards are very crowded, and of course, you have no relatives, nor friends, able to furnish a private room----"

"Oh, no, sir!" gasped Lyddy.

"Nor is _that_ the best for him. He ought to be out of the city altogether--country air and food--mountain air especially----"

"Hillcrest!" exclaimed Lyddy, aloud.

"What's that?" the doctor snapped at her, quickly.

She told him about the farm--where it was, and all.

"That's a good place for him," replied the physician, coolly. "It's three or four hundred feet higher above sea-level than the city. It will do him more good to live in that air than a ton of medicine. And he can go in two weeks, or so. Good-morning, Miss Bray," and the busy doctor hurried away to his mult.i.tude of duties, having disposed of Mr. Bray's case on the instant.

CHAPTER IV

THE PILGRIMAGE

Lydia Bray was shocked indeed when they allowed her in the ward to see her father. A nurse had drawn a screen about the bed, and nodded to her encouragingly.

The pallor of Mr. Bray's countenance, as he lay there with his eyes closed, unaware of her presence, frightened the girl. She had never seen him utterly helpless before. He had managed to get around every day, even if sometimes he could not go to work.

But now the forces of his system seemed to have suddenly given out. He had overtaxed Nature, and she was paying him for it.

"Lyddy!" he whispered, when finally his heavy-lidded eyes opened and he saw her standing beside the cot.

The girl made a brave effort to look and speak cheerfully; and Mr.

Bray's comprehension was so dulled that she carried the matter off very successfully while she remained.

She spoke cheerfully; she chatted about their last night's experiences; she even laughed over some of Aunt Jane's sayings--Aunt Jane was always a source of much amus.e.m.e.nt to Mr. Bray.

But the nurse had warned her to be brief, and soon she was beckoned away.

She knew he was in good hands at the hospital, and that they would do all that they could for him. But what the house physician had told her was uppermost in her mind as she left the inst.i.tution.

How were they to get to Hillcrest--and live after arriving there?