The father expressed his thanks with such winsome grace, that every man instinctively felt that he was a born gentleman. There was not a miner in the room who did not sympathize with him in his affliction, and yet they envied him the possession of the child, whose innocence and beauty impressed them as more wonderful than they had ever looked upon before. When Felix Brush whispered to Budge Isham that arrangements must be made in some way to keep the father with them, for the sake of having the child, his friend nodded his head, and said he had made up his mind to the same effect from the moment the parent referred to the matter. And the sentiments of these two were those of the rest.
“Come, Nellie, let me prepare you for bed; it’s a long time since you have had that privilege.”
The little one obediently walked to her father and turned her back to him that he might better remove her clothing.
“I suppose you have plenty of covering for her?” remarked the parent inquiringly to the landlord.
“There’s all she can need.”
Lifting her on his knee, the father began removing the shoes and stockings, the little one giving what aid she could, when it came to the garments. One of the last acts of the affectionate mother had been to place upon her child the gown she was accustomed to wear while asleep. When at last she was ready, she looked up to her father and asked in a half whisper:
“Where’s mamma?”
“She will not be with us to-night.”
“Then she will come in the morning?”