You are woken by the sounds of crying. Padding across the room, you see that your youngest son, Matthew, is twisting in his sleep. His face is red and, when you touch his forehead, it is far too hot.
Then, he starts to cough and you recognise that rattle, heard it on the lips of the poor folk in the sanitorium when you cleaned for them last May.
You know he needs medicine, but if you take him to the doctor, the family won't eat for a week. Yet without it, he'll almost certainly die.