He managed to undress his little charge with gentle, though trembling hands, and then he laid her down on his bed, putting his only pillow against the wall to make a soft nest for the tender and sleepy child.  She roused herself for a minute, and stared about her, gazing steadily, with large, tearful eyes, into his face.  Then as he sat down on the bedstead beside her, to comfort her as well as he could, she lifted herself up, and knelt down, with her folded hands laid against his shoulder.

“Dolly vewy seepy,” she lisped, “but must say her prayers always.”

“What are your prayers, my dear?” he asked.

“On’y God bless gan-pa, and father, and mammy, and poor Beppo, and make me a good girl,” murmured the drowsy voice, as Dolly closed her eyes again, and fell off into a deep sleep the next moment.

CHAPTER III.

A little peacemaker.

It was a very strange event which had befallen old Oliver.  He went back to his own chair, where he smoked his Broseley pipe every night, and sank down in it, rubbing his legs softly; for it was a long time since he had nursed any child, and even Dolly’s small weight was a burden to him.  Her tiny clothes were scattered up and down, and there was no one beside himself to gather them together, and fold them straight.  In shaking out her frock a letter fell from it, and Oliver picked it up wondering whoever it could be for.  It was directed to himself, “Mr. James Oliver, News-agent,” and he broke the seal with eager expectation.  The contents were these, written in a handwriting which he knew at first sight to be his daughter’s:—­

“Dear father,

“I am very very sorry I ever did anything to make you angry with me.  This is your poor Susan’s little girl, as is come to be a little peacemaker betwixt you and me.  I’m certain sure you’ll never turn her away from your door.  I’m going down to Portsmouth for three days, because he listed five months ago, and his regiment’s ordered out to India, and he sails on Friday.  So I thought I wouldn’t take my little girl to be in the way, and I said I’ll leave her with father till I come back, and her pretty little ways will soften him towards me, and we’ll live all together in peace and plenty till his regiment comes home again, poor fellow.  For he’s very good to me when he’s not in liquor, which is seldom for a man.  Please do forgive me for pity’s sake, and for Christ’s sake, if I’m worthy to use his name, and do take care of my little girl till I come home to you both on Friday, From your now dutiful daughter,

“Poor Susan.”