"I—I—a parrot!" he exclaimed, smiling knowingly at Mabel. "No, I should think not. He is raving, my dear. High fever. Just what I said. Won't you go out and send Maggie for the doctor? No, stop, I shall go myself. Then he will be sure to come without delay. It is high time."
The professor buttoned his coat up to his chin, fixed his hat at the proper angle on the back of his head, and departed in haste.
"How do you feel now, Jamie dear?" said Mabel, after awhile.
"I am very well, I thank you, Mabel," answered I. "In fact, it is all nonsense. I am not sick at all."
"Hush, hush! you must not talk so much," demanded she, and put her hand over my mouth.
My excitement was now gradually subsiding, and my blood was returning to its usual speed.
"If you don't object, Mabel," said I, "I'll get up and go home. There's nothing whatever the matter with me."
"Will you be a good boy and keep quiet," rejoined she, emphasizing each word by a gentle tap on my head with her crochet-needle.
"Well, if it can amuse you to have me lying here and playing sick," muttered I, "then, of course, I will do anything to please you."
"That is right," said she, and gave me a friendly nod.