“Then, David,” said Mrs. Dolman, “you will not allow this valuable opportunity to slip—­you will trust your children to me.  I assure you I will do my duty by them.”  She spoke with real sincerity, and tears absolutely dimmed her bright eyes.  “David,” she continued, “that letter seems a Providence; you will act upon it.”

“It certainly does,” said the man; “but, Jane, you will be good to the children—­tender, I mean.  Their mother has always been very gentle to them.”

“You need not question me as to how I will treat them.  I will bring them up as I would my own.  I will do my utmost to rear them in the fear of God.  David, this clinches the matter.  Write to Mr. Seymour by this night’s post.”

Mr. Delaney promised to do so, and soon afterwards Mrs. Dolman, feeling that she had done a very good and excellent work, retired, in a thoroughly happy frame of mind, to her bedroom.

CHAPTER VI.

THE POOR DEAD ’UNS.

Mr. Delaney’s bedroom faced east, and the following morning, at a very early hour, he began to have most unpleasant dreams.  He thought a hobgoblin was seated on his chest, and several brownies were pulling him where he did not wish to go, and finally that a gnome of enormous dimensions was dragging him into a dark cavern, where he could never again behold the daylight.  At last, in great perturbation, he opened his dazed eyes.  The sight he saw seemed at first to be a continuation of his dream, but after a moment or two he discovered that the person who had become possessed of his chest was a small boy of the name of Orion, that a little black-eyed girl called Diana had comfortably ensconced herself on his knees, and that Iris and Apollo were seated one at each side of his pillow.  The four children had all climbed up on to the big bedstead, and were gazing attentively at him.

“He is opening his eyes,” said Orion, “he’ll be all right after a minute or two.  Don’t hurry up, father; we can wait.”

“We can wait quite well, father,” said Diana; “and it’s very comf’able on your knees; they is so flat.”

“We are awfully sorry to disturb you, father,” said Iris.

“But we can’t help it, because it’s most solemnly important,” said Apollo.

“So it seems,” remarked Mr. Delaney, when he could at last find a voice.  “You have all subjected me to a terrible dream.  I am really glad that I have awakened and find that the hobgoblins, and gnomes, and brownies are no less little people than my own four children.  But why am I to be disturbed at such a very early hour?”

“If you like, father,” said Diana, “we’ll pull up all the blinds; then the hot, blazin’ sun will come in, and you’ll see that it’s not early at all; it’s late.”

Mr. Delaney happened to glance at a clock which stood on the mantelpiece exactly facing the big bed.

“I read on the face of that clock,” he said, “that the hour is half-past five.  Now, what have you four little children to do, sitting on my bed at half-past five in the morning?”