"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. She seemed to have forgotten all about her new protégés, Mrs. Douglass and Mrs. Cheriton; but one day, on looking over the cards left during her sickness, she found one which brought the crimson tide back to her pale cheeks. It was a card with the name in print,—Harold Angus; and underneath, in a fine hand, was written Juliette Cheriton, with the street and number of her boarding-place. "Oh, how much I have to do!" Marion said. "I forgot this lady entirely." Annie wondered what caused the pained voice and firmly set lips of her friend, but she only said soothingly,— "Don't worry, dear. Tell me if there is any thing I can do to help you." Marion put her hand wearily to her head, and in answer to Annie's earnest remonstrance, pleading that she would think of nothing about business now, she only asked,—"How soon will the doctor be here?" "Not for some hours yet. You will have time for a good nap." "Please give me my pen and paper: I must write a few words, then I will try to rest; and, Annie dear, will you leave me alone a few minutes?"