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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Seaboard Parish Volume 1"

I was beside her in a moment.
"My darling! You have hurt yourself!"
"O no, papa. I felt for the moment as if I could get up if I liked. But I
soon found that I hadn't any back or legs. O! what a plague I am to you!"
"On the contrary, you are the nicest plaything in the world, Connie. One
always knows where to find you."
She half laughed and half cried, and the two halves made a very bewitching
whole.
"But," I went on, "I mean to try whether my dolly won't bear moving. One
thing is clear, I can't go without it. Do you think you could be got on the
sofa to-day without hurting you?"
"I am sure I could, papa. I feel better today than I have felt yet. Mamma,
do send for Susan, and get me up before dinner."
When I went in after a couple of hours or so, I found her lying on the
conch, propped up with pillows. She lay looking out of the window on the
lawn at the back of the house. A smile hovered about her bloodless lips,
and the blue of her eyes, though very gray, looked sunny. Her white face
showed the whiter because her dark brown hair was all about it. We had had
to cut her hair, but it had grown to her neck again.
"I have been trying to count the daisies on the lawn," she said.


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