He was thankful when Wilson
re-appeared, carrying in both hands a jug of steaming tea, intended
for the poor wife; but when the delirious husband saw drink, he
snatched at it with animal instinct, with a selfishness he had never
shown in health.
Then the two men consulted together. It seemed decided, without a
word being spoken on the subject, that both should spend the night
with the forlorn couple; that was settled. But could no doctor be
had? In all probability, no; the next day an Infirmary order must
be begged, but meanwhile the only medical advice they could have
must be from a druggist's. So Barton (being the moneyed man) set
out to find a shop in London Road.
It is a pretty sight to walk through a street with lighted shops;
the gas is so brilliant, the display of goods so much more vividly
shown than by day, and of all shops a druggist's looks the most like
the tales of our childhood, from Aladdin's garden of enchanted
fruits to the charming Rosamond with her purple jar. No such
associations had Barton; yet he felt the contrast between the
well-filled, well-lighted shops and the dim gloomy cellar, and it
made him moody that such contrasts should exist.
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