And no sooner had she made sure of the object than she found her way into the office, asking the porter as well as a clerk where the pelican was to be found,—­questions that produced a smile; but smile here or smile there, Annie was not to be beat; nor did she stop in her progress until at last she was shown into a room where she saw, perched on a high stool, with three (of course) long legs, a strange-looking personage with a curled wig and a pair of green spectacles, who no doubt must be the pelican himself.  As she appeared in the room with the umbrella, not much shorter or less in circumference than herself, the gentleman looked curiously at her, wondering no doubt what the errand of so strange a little customer could be.

“Well, my little lady,” said he, “what may be your pleasure?”

“I want the pelican,” said Annie.

The gentleman was still more astonished, even to the extent that he laid down his pen and looked at her again.

“The pelican, dear?”

“Ay, just the pelican,” answered she deliberately, and even a little indignantly.  “Are you the pelican?”

“Why, yes, dear; all that is for it below the figure,” said he, smiling, and wondering what the next question would be.

“I am so glad I have found you,” said she; “because sister Mary is dying.”

“And who is sister Mary?”

“My sister, Mary Maconie, at Juniper Green.”

Whereupon the gentleman began to remember that the name of William Maconie was in his books as holder of a policy.

“And what more?”

“My father says the pelican insured Mary’s life; and I want you to come direct and do it, because I couldn’t live if Mary were to die; and there’s no time to be lost.”

“Oh!  I see, dear.  And who sent you?”

“Nobody,” answered Annie.  “My father wouldn’t come to you; and I have come from Juniper Green myself without telling my father or mother.”

“Oh yes, dear!  I understand you.”

“But you must do it quick,” continued she, “because the doctor says she’s in great danger; so you must come with me and save her immediately.”

“I am sorry, my dear little lady,” rejoined he, “that I cannot go with you; but I will set about it immediately, and I have no doubt, being able to go faster than you, that I will get there before you, so that all will be right before you arrive.”

“See that you do it, then,” said she; “because I can’t live if Mary dies.  Are you quite sure you will do it?”

“Perfectly sure, my little dear,” added he.  “Go away home, and all will be right; the pelican will do his duty.”