How tired every one was all day after the prairie-fire! Well would it have
been if the matter had terminated in fatigue. Early in the day the feeble
mother had to betake herself to her bed; and on the following morning Mr.
Allis, to his great surprise, found himself rudely shaken by the ague. Not
many days passed ere Mrs. Allis and Mary found themselves at the mercy of
the same annoying visitor. Sometimes the three shook in concert; and then
you may imagine that the little girls had enough to do to carry water to
satisfy their thirst. Occasionally the chills would seem to be broken up
for a few days, and then they would most unexpectedly return. Several times
Mr. Allis thought himself perfectly well, and once or twice he went to the
grove a number of miles distant, with his team, for a load of wood, and on
the way there or back would be attacked with a chill, and it was only by a
great effort that he reached home. The little girls were quite well; but
they did not find their prairie home as pleasant in the cold winter as it
was in the glad summer-time. Oh, how they longed for spring! And when it
came how they rejoiced over the little lambs and calves in their father's
yard, and how delighted were they when the first sweet violets peeped
forth! Still their joy was to be increased: a sweeter prairie-flower than
any of these bloomed in their humble cabin, opening a fount of untold
gladness in the hearts of all. One bright morning a sweet little sister was
presented to the delighted children.

It was long before they could be made to realize that it was their own dear
babe, and always to be theirs and to stay with them. At last they
recovered themselves sufficiently to ask its name.

"It has no name, Annie," said her father.

"Oh, mother! mother!" cried the enthusiastic Susie, "let us call it