"Maw, Maw! Where are you—is there really a letter?"
"Yes—from Denver! But how is Noddy?" replied Mrs. Brewster, coming to the kitchen door, holding a square envelope in her hand.
"Dear little Noddy—she is all right now, Maw, but it looked mighty bad a bit of time back. I just had to pray and pray with all my might, Maw—you know how!" sighed Polly, taking the refined-looking letter from her mother without seeing it.
"I never knew how I loved that dear little bundle of fuzz and flesh till I thought she was dead! Oh, I am so glad she will live that I don't care if I ever eat again or not!"
Still holding the precious letter, Polly turned back to look at the barn where the object of her love was lapping up the gruel. Mrs. Brewster smiled indulgently at her intense young daughter, then reminded her of the unopened communication.
"Dear me! So much excitement in one day—I don't see how I can quiet down again. But who do you suppose would write to me?" queried Polly, holding the envelope at arm's length and studying the hand-writing.
"I'm not clairvoyant, Polly, so suppose you open it and see for yourself," laughed Mrs. Brewster.
"Well, I hate to spoil this nice stationery but—here it goes!" murmured Polly, severing an end of the envelope as if she was the executioner of an innocent victim.
"See who it's from, Polly, while I dish up your dinner. Of course you don't care whether you ever eat again, but I would suggest that at least you strive to ward off starvation," remarked her mother, teasingly, as she took a well-filled plate from the oven.
"Wh-h-y—of all things!" gasped Polly, as she read the letter quickly.