preference which he felt for Ella, whose doll-like face, and childish
ways were far more in keeping with his taste, than Mary's old look and
still older manner. Whenever he noticed her at all, he spoke kindly to
her; but she knew there was a great difference between his treatment
of her and Ella, and oftentimes, when saying her evening prayer she
prayed that George Moreland might love her a little just a little.

Two weeks had passed since the last vestige of land had disappeared
from view, and then George was taken dangerously ill with fever. Mrs.
Howard herself visited him frequently, but she commanded her children
to keep away, lest they, too, should take the disease. For a day or
two Mary obeyed her mother, and then curiosity led her near George's
berth. For several minutes she lingered, and was about turning away
when a low moan fell on her ear and arrested her footsteps. Her
mother's commands were forgotten, and in a moment she stood by
George's bedside. Tenderly she smoothed his tumbled pillow, moistened
his parched lips, and bathed his feverish brow, and when, an hour
afterward, the physician entered, he found his patient calmly
sleeping, with one hand clasped in that of Mary, who with the other
fanned the sick boy with the same blue gingham sun-bonnet, of which he
had once made fun, saying it looked like its owner, "rather
skim-milky."

"Mary! Mary Howard!" said the physician, "this is no place for you,"
and he endeavored to lead her away.

This aroused George, who begged so hard for her to remain, that the
physician went in quest of Mrs. Howard, who rather unwillingly
consented, and Mary was duly installed as nurse in the sick room.
Perfectly delighted with her new vocation, she would sit for hours by