“Letter from the Old Country,” Sandy cried.  “That’s it, boys, more lively there.  Tell that Pound of Tea to step up—­No, no pink silk stockings to-day, thank you.  Tell that Landlord the rent’s paid, I’ll let him know when he’s wanted.  Hand over that pile of mended clothing—­and the pay envelope, mind it’s the right amount—­all the rest of you, step aside!” Waving away a gay bonnet with a bird on it, a bottle marked “Patent Medicine,” and the persistent pink stockings, the Sandman closed the mouth of Mrs. O’Flynn’s sack, and swung it on his shoulder, nodding to the children to watch what would happen.  Much excited, they crowded round the open door in the side of the big rock and peered down into what seemed to be a kind of dark well with a toboggan-slide descending into it.  Sandy placed the Wash Lady’s sack at the top of the slide, and before the children could so much as wink, it had slid off into the darkness and disappeared from sight.

“Oh, my!” cried Ann, “Is it a shoot-the-chutes?  Does it bump when it gets there?”

“No, no,” said the Sandman.  “No bumps whatsoever, the most comfortable kind of traveling I know, in fact you’re there the same time you start, and I’d like to know how you can beat that?  I ought to know, for I use this route myself on my rounds a little earlier in the evening.”  He walked back to his pile of sacks, and picked up another of them.  “Now then,” said he, examining the label, “who’s next?  Aha—­Miss Jane Mackenzie!”

The children could hardly believe their ears.  “Oh, Ruddy,” whispered Ann in Rudolf’s ear, “what kind of dreams do you suppose Aunt Jane will get?”

“Sh!  Listen, he’s going to tell us,” answered Rudolf.

The Sandman was gravely consulting his list.  “M-hm—­Cook-that-likes-living-in-the-Country!  Step this way, ma’am, and don’t take any more room than you can help.  New Non-fadable Cheap but Elegant Parlor Curtains—­One Able-bodied Intelligent Gardener, with a Generous Disposition—­hurry the gentleman forward, boys, he’s a curiosity!  What’s next?  Aha!  One niece, two nephews—­three perfectly good children.”  Sandy paused, stared about him at the throng of jumping, pushing dreams—­then added:  “Don’t see ’em.”

“Why, yes you do!” Ann was pulling impatiently at the Sandman’s sleeve—­“Here you are.”  Then she turned to Rudolf and whispered excitedly:  “Don’t you see?  We must make the Sandman believe we are Aunt Jane’s Good Dreams, and then he’ll send us back to her.”

“I’d like a ride on that slide, all right!” returned Rudolf.

“But I doesn’t want to go back to Aunt Jane yet,” came the voice of Peter clearly from behind them.  “I shan’t go till I’ve seen the Bad Dreams.”

“Nonsense!” Rudolf turned round on him angrily.  “Of course you’ll go.  You’re the youngest, and you’ve got to mind us.”  And then without paying any more attention to Peter, Rudolf thrust himself in front of the Sandman.  “Here we are,” he said.  “We’re all ready.”