“Are you telling me the truth?”
“Oh, Donald, I am—I am!” she cried hysterically.
“Then there is still a chance for you, and for me,” he said, his face lighting up with sudden joy.
“Donald!” she cried; “Donald!” and tried to smile through her tears. As she spoke, the door of the bedroom opened, and she heard a childish voice. “Mamma!” it said, and Bobbie rushed up to her, and threw his arms about her.
She reached down and clasped him to her breast. “My darling—my darling!” she cried, as she kissed him.
“Mamma—I’m so glad you’ve come. I had such awful dreams. I dreamed that you and papa were fighting, and I came and called, and you wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Never mind, precious. It’s all right now,” she said, soothing him.
“Papa told me if I prayed very hard for you to come back, you would—and you did, didn’t you, mamma?”
“Yes, dear,” she said; then looked toward her husband, and smiled happily.
“And you won’t ever go away and leave me any more, mamma?”