"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.
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