But he knew, and
so did his wife, that the truth of his refusal lay in the fact that he
could not bear to part with his youngest child--even though she visited
at home each week-end.
Mrs. Brewster sided with Polly's ambition, and planned to visit her old
home in Denver to see if she could find any friends who would prove to
be desirable for Polly to associate with. The matter stood thus this
lovely June day when the unexpected letter arrived.
The very unusual occurrence created enough interest for Polly to take
her mind from the burro, so she ran swiftly towards the house while
every possible correspondent she could think of passed through her
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.
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