"
"And there's no thanks to you," said Annie, "because it was I who went
for the pelican."
Whereupon the doctor looked to the father, who, taking him aside,
narrated to him the story, at which the doctor was so pleased that he
laughed right out.
"You're the noblest little heroine I ever heard of," said he.
"But have you had anything to eat, dear, in this long journey?" said the
mother.
"No, I didn't want," was the answer; "all I wanted was to save Mary's
life, and I am glad I have done it."
And glad would we be if, by the laws of historical truth, our stranger
story could have ended here; but, alas! we are obliged to pain the good
reader's heart by saying that the demon who had left the troubled little
breast of Mary Maconie took possession of Annie's. The very next day she
lay extended on the bed, panting under the fell embrace of the
relentless foe. As Mary got better, Annie grew worse; and her case was
so far unlike Mary's, that there was more a tendency to a fevered state
of the brain. The little sufferer watched with curious eyes the anxious
faces of her parents, and seemed conscious that she was in a dangerous
condition.
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