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 her charge, watching each change in his features and anticipating as far as possible his wants.  She possessed a very sweet, clear voice; and frequently, when all other means had failed to quiet him, she would bend her face near his and taking his hands in hers, would sing to him some simple song of home, until lulled by the soft music he would fall away to sleep.  Such unwearied kindness was not without its effect upon George, and one day when Mary as usual was sitting near him, he called her to his side, and taking her face between his hands, kissed her forehead and lips, saying, “What can I ever do to pay my little nurse for her kindness?”

Mary hesitated a moment, and then replied, “Love me as well as you do Ella!”

“As well as I do Ella!” he repeated, “I love you a great deal better.  She has not been to see me once.  What is the reason?”

Frank, who a moment before had stolen to Mary’s side, answered for her, saying, “some one had told Ella that if she should have the fever, her curls would all drop off; and so,” said he, “she won’t come near you!”

Just then Mrs. Howard appeared, and this time she was accompanied by Ella, who clung closely to her mother’s skirt, looking cautiously out from its thick folds.  George did not as usual caress her, but he asked her mockingly, “if her hair had commenced coming out!” while Ella only answered by grasping at her long curls, as if to assure herself of their safety.

In a few days George was able to go on deck, and though he still petted and played with Ella, he never again slighted Mary, or forgot that she was present.  More than once, too, a kind word, or affectionate look from him, sent such a glow to her cheek and sparkle to her eye, that Frank, who always loved her best, declared, “she was as pretty as Ella any day if she’d break herself of putting her hand to her mouth whenever she saw one looking at her,” a habit which she had acquired from being so frequently told of her uneven teeth.