She had been driven from the station by a fast team. Her face
was pale and worn, clearly showing that little or no sleep had come to
her eyes the night before. In fact, she had not slept since she had
received Parson Dan's message. Everything else was forgotten. Only
one thing mattered to her, and that was the boy lying sick unto death
in far-off Hillcrest.
Rod had been more restless than ever during the night, and the fever
was at its highest. All realised that this was the crisis, and that a
short time would decide everything. He was still calling and raving as
the singer entered the room. Stepping quickly to his side, she placed
her hand upon his hot forehead.
"Hush," she soothed. "I am here. It is Anna Royanna."
That touch, more than the words, seemed to have a magic effect. The
parched burning lips ceased to move, the staring eyes closed, and with
a deep sigh Rod turned his head on the pillow, and sank into a peaceful
sleep. Lovingly, and with eyes brimming with tears, the woman stood
for some time and watched the boy. Then a light step aroused her. It
was the doctor.
"The turn has come," he whispered. "You were just in time."
Rod rapidly recovered, and there was joy not only at the rectory but
throughout the entire parish.
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