Bring her here again in the morning, and we will see what can be done." "How many children have you got here ?" asked old Oliver.
"We have only seventy-five cots," she answered, sobbing; "and in a winter like this they're always full." "Only seventy-five!" repeated the old man, very sorrowfully.

"Only seventy-five, and there are hundreds and hundreds of little children ill in London! They are ill in houses like mine, where the sun never shines.
Is there no other place like this we could take our little love to ?" "There are two or three other Hospitals," she answered, "but they are a long way off, and none of them as large as ours.

They are sure to be full just now.

I think there are not more than a hundred and fifty cots in all London for sick children." "Then there's no room for my Dolly ?" he said.
The lady shook her head without speaking, for she had her handkerchief up to her face.
"Eh!" cried old Oliver in a wailing voice, "I don't know whatever the dear Lord 'ill say to that." He made a sign to Tony that they must be going home again; and the boy raised himself up with a strange weight and burden upon his heart.

Old Oliver put his stick down, and took Dolly into his own arms, and laid her head down on his breast.
"Let me carry her a little way, Tony," he said.