ender commiseration is in that
of Mrs. Slade!

"How is little Mary to-night?"

"Not so well, I'm afraid. She has a good deal of fever."

"Indeed! Oh, I'm sorry! Poor child! what a dreadful thing it was! Oh!
Fanny! you don't know how it has troubled me. I've been intending to
come around all day to see how she was, but couldn't get off until now."

"It came near killing her," said Mrs. Morgan.

"It's in God's mercy she escaped. The thought of it curdles the very
blood in my veins. Poor child! is this her on the settee?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Slade takes a chair, and sitting by the sleeping child, gazes long
upon her pale sweet face. Now the lips of Mary part--words are
murmured--what is she saying?

"No, no, mother; I can't go to bed yet. Father isn't home. And it's so
dark. There's no one to lead him over the bridge. I'm not afraid.
Don't--don't cry so, mother--I'm not afraid! Nothing will hurt me."

The child's face flushes. She moans, and throws her arms about
uneasily. Hark again.

"I wish Mr. Slade wouldn't look so cross at me. He never did when I
went to the mill. He doesn't take me on his knee now, and stroke my
hair. Oh, dear! I wish father wouldn't go there any more. Don't, don't,
Mr. Slade. Oh! oh!"--the ejaculation prolonged into a frightened cry,
"My head! my head!"

A few choking sobs are followed by low moans; and then the child
breathes easily again. But the flush does not leave her cheek; and when
Mrs. Slade, from whose eyes the tears come forth drop by drop, and roll
down her face, touches it lightly, she finds it hot with fever.

"Has the doctor seen her to-day, Fanny?"

"No, ma'am."

"He should see her at once. I will go for him"; and Mrs. Slade starts
up and goes quickly from the room. In a little while she returns with
Doctor Green, who sits down and looks at the child for some moments
with a sober, thoughtful face. Then he lays his fingers on her pulse
and times its beat by his watch--shakes his head, and looks graver
still.

"How long has she had fever?" he asks.

"All day."

"You should have sent for me earlier."

"Oh, doctor! She is not dangerous, I hope?" Mrs. Morgan looks
frightened.

"She's a sick child, madam."

"You've promised, father."--The dreamer is speaking again.--"I'm not
well enough yet. Oh, don't go, father; don't! There! He's gone! Well,
well! I'll try and walk there--I can sit down and rest by the way. Oh,
dear! How tired I am! Father! Father!"

The child sta