thoughts. But she was as much at sea as ever, when she danced up the
log steps leading directly to the kitchen.

"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.