"Miss Howard's excellent constitution is doing wonders for her," remarked Dr. Ross, as, after the crisis, she seemed to make a leap into the arms of health. "No more drugs: Nature will do her own work now."
This was Marion's first experience of severe illness, and it was difficult to make her understand that for a time she must be economical of her newly gained energies.
"I feel so strong," she insisted, "that I ought to be waiting on Annie, instead of her waiting on me."
"Speaking of Miss Annie," said the doctor, "I have two little girls old enough to learn music. By-and-by, when you are well, I shall ask her to take them into her care."
"How do you know she is competent, Doctor? You ought to consult me," urged Marion, with her old beaming smile, as she saw that her favorite pupil had difficulty in controlling her gratitude at this unexpected offer.
"I'll test her capabilities now. Come, Miss Annie, into the parlor, and give me a piece offhand."
With many blushes she obeyed, and, seating herself at the piano, played from memory an accompaniment to a simple ballad, which she sang with so much sweetness that the physician was delighted.
"Teach my girls to play and sing like that," he exclaimed, "and your fortune is made. Teach them another accomplishment, too,—to play when they are asked, without excuses, as you did. I more than half expected you would say, 'I'm all out of practice, Doctor'; or, 'I'm far from strong.' Teach them all that, and you'll win the gratitude of one father."
Before Marion was able to drive out herself, she insisted that Annie should spend several hours every day in the open air. Indeed, she contrived so many errands which it was imperative must be attended to immediately that the young girl could not refuse.
She early learned that Mary Falkner came to the city soon after the place in the Home for the Sick had been secured for her, that Dr. Moore had seen her safely in the bed in her ward, and had afterward had a consultation visit on her own case with Dr. Ross.