"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