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