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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, October 09, 1915, LAST EDITION, Image 20

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1915-10-09/ed-1/seq-20/

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"There is hope. But it is a very faint
one. You must be prepared for the
h-, worst, Mr. Raymond, and I cannot
i delude you with any false anticioa-
tions. Your wifejs dangerously ill.
She is at present sleeping. It all de
pends on the first rest."
"And the child?"
"A splendid girL She is doing fine
ly. I have seldom seen a child so
healthy at birth."
Tom Raymond groaned. At that
moment he felt utterly indifferent to
his child. If only Polly lived! She
must live, for his sake.
Tie doctor took pity on the hag
gard man.
"I don't think there is any reason
why you should not sit by her bed
side, if you go up very softly," he
said.
Raymond ascended the stairs and
entered his wife's room on tiptoe. The
nurse rose from the bedside and laid
her finger on her lips. Raymond
crept to the chair which she had va
cated and sat down.
Polly was sleeping, but it was more
correct to say that she was uncon
scious. She was barely alive, and
her breast hardly stirred under her
light breathing. Her face was ashen,
her lips as pale as her cheeks.
Sometimes her husband was afraid
that she had ceased to breathe. The
hours went by. He still sat at her
side. Midnight sounded. He did not
move. With all his power he was will
ing that Polly should live. And so
the night passed, and gradually the
light of dawn began to penetrate the
room.
Suddenly the nurse started and
stepped to the sick woman's side.
Her trained ear had detected the lit
tle sound of awakening. Next mo
ment Polly was conscious, and her
eyes were fixed on Tom's.
"I am going to get well, Tom,
dear,"
And Tom could read that in the
tinge of color that had come back to
her cheeks.
The nurse, obedient to the sick
woman's unvoicsd wish, stepped to
the cradle and brought out the baby.
"Isn't she a dear, Tom!" murmur
ed Polly. "And she has the dearest
little birth-mark. Show him her
shoulder, nurse."
There was a faint stain extending
from the base of the neck an inch or
two in the direction of the right
shoulder.
LITTLE CURL HANGS RIGHT.
DOWN ON HER FOREHEAD
By Betty Brown
Here's a little girl with a cunning
little curl and it's pasted right down
on her forehead. The kinky curl is
the end of a roll of hair that begins
just at the nape of the neck and folds
tightly in a long, flat roll ending in the
curl on her forehead.
The little girl doesn't care much for
this kind of a curl, but the tight, close
headdress is the only coiffure she can
wear with the very small hats of the
season.
Among the Moors, if a' wife does
not become the mother of a boy, she
may be divorced with the consent of
the tribes
iMMiiiiiiiiiliii

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