Sweet petition! The man himself, who stood there with bearded lips shut tightly together, had said that prayer once at his mother's knee. Where was that mother now? The sunset gates had long ago unbarred to let her through. But the child had not finished; he heard her say "God bless mamma, papa, and my ownself"—and there was a pause, and she lifted her troubled blue eyes to her mother's face.
"God bless papa," prompted the mother, softly.
"God bless papa," lisped the little one.
"And—please send papa home sober"—he could not hear the mother as she said this, but the child followed in a clear, inspired tone:
"God—bless—papa—and—please—send—him—home—sober. Amen."
Mother and child sprang to their feet in alarm when the door opened so suddenly, but they were not afraid when they saw who it was, returned so soon. That night, when little Mamie was being tucked up in bed after such a romp with papa, she said in the sleepiest and most contented of voices:
"Mamma, God answers most as quick as the telegraph, doesn't he?"