THE first day his father resumed his work, Diamond went with him
as usual. In the afternoon, however, his father, having taken
a fare to the neighbourhood, went home, and Diamond drove the cab
the rest of the day. It was hard for old Diamond to do all
the work, but they could not afford to have another horse.
They contrived to save him as much as possible, and fed him well,
and he did bravely.

The next morning his father was so much stronger that Diamond
thought he might go and ask Mr. Raymond to take him to see Nanny.
He found him at home. His servant had grown friendly by this time,
and showed him in without any cross-questioning. Mr. Raymond received
him with his usual kindness, consented at once, and walked with him
to the Hospital, which was close at hand. It was a comfortable
old-fashioned house, built in the reign of Queen Anne, and in her day,
no doubt, inhabited by rich and fashionable people: now it was a home
for poor sick children, who were carefully tended for love's sake.
There are regions in London where a hospital in every other street
might be full of such children, whose fathers and mothers are dead,
or unable to take care of them.

When Diamond followed Mr. Raymond into the room where those children
who had got over the worst of their illness and were growing better lay,
he saw a number of little iron bedsteads, with their heads to the walls,
and in every one of them a child, whose face was a story in itself.
In some, health had begun to appear in a tinge upon the cheeks,
and a doubtful brightness in the eyes, just as out of the cold dreary
winter the spring comes in blushing buds and bright crocuses.