extraordinary faces at the baby, who was grabbing at his nose and
whiskers and cooing in blissful delight. Poor "Old Ricketts" looked as
if he had been caught stealing, and muttering something about having to
go, gazed wildly round for some place in which to lay the baby, when in
came the mother, saying in her own sweet, frank way: "O Mr. Ricketts"
(she didn't find out till afterwards his name was Shaw), "would you mind
keeping her just a little longer?--I shall be back in a few minutes."
And "Old Ricketts" guessed he could wait.

'But in six months mother and baby, between them, transformed "Old
Ricketts" into Mr. Shaw, fire-boss of the mines. And then in the
evenings, when she would be singing her baby to sleep, the little shop
would be full of miners, listening in dead silence to the baby-songs,
and the English songs, and the Scotch songs she poured forth without
stint, for she sang more for them than for her baby. No wonder they
adored her. She was so bright, so gay, she brought light with her when
she went into the camp, into the pits--for she went down to see the men
work--or into a sick miner's shack; and many a man, lonely and sick
for home or wife, or baby or mother, found in that back room cheer and
comfort and courage, and to many a poor broken wretch that room became,
as one miner put it, "the anteroom to heaven."'

Mr. Craig paused, and I waited. Then he went on slowly--

'For a year and a half that was the happiest home in all the world, till
one day--'

He put his face in his hands, and shuddered.

'I don't think I can ever forget the awful horror of that bright fall