"I hope so," was the cheery answer. "Put her feet in warm water as soon as possible. And here is a powder for her. I'll come over in the morning. Think she'll be better then."
To the miner's great delight, Molly's blue eyes opened the next morning. But if he had gone to the saloon, it might have been different.
SICK MOLLY.
BABY RALPH'S LETTER.
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OLDEN-HAIRED, blue-eyed, sweet-mouthed Baby Ralph lay, a cunning little white heap, in his willow cradle.
While he slept, papa and mamma came softly into the room—dropped the lightest and sweetest of kisses on the dear baby face, then stole quietly out and away to the big city. Did Baby Ralph like this? You will hardly think so when you read his letter. Here it is: