."

"You could not, Jane; I would not permit it."

"But with regard to the children, I really have experience. I have
five children of my own, and I think, if you were to see them, you
would be well assured that Iris and Diana, Apollo and Orion would do
well to take example by them. We might change the names of the boys
and give them titles not quite so terrible."

"I wish them to be called by the names their mother chose," said Mr.
Delaney, with great firmness.

"Well, I suppose the poor children will live it down, but they will
have a terrible time at school. However, they are too young for
anything of that kind at present. Give me the children, David, and I
will act as a mother to them; then pack up your belongings, put your
estate into the hands of a good agent, and go abroad for some years."

"It would be an untold relief," said Mr. Delaney.

At that moment the door was opened, and the butler appeared with the
evening post on a salver. Mr. Delaney laid the letters languidly by
his plate.

"Shall we go into the drawing room, Jane?" he said.

Mrs. Dolman rose briskly.

"I shall retire early to bed," she said. "Read your letters, please,
David; you need not stand on ceremony with me."

Mr. Delaney looked over his post; then his eyes lighted up as he saw
the handwriting on one of the envelopes. He opened the letter in
question, which immediately interested him vastly. It happened to be
from an old friend, and certainly seemed to come at an opportune
moment. This friend was about to start on an expedition to the
Himalayas, and he begged his old fellow-traveler to go with him. His
long letter, the enthusiastic way he wrote, the suggestions he threw
out of possible and exciting adventures came just at the nick of time
to the much-depressed and weary man.

"Why, I declare, Jane," he said, "this does seem to come opportunely."
He walked over to where his sister was standing, and read a portion of
the letter aloud. "If I might venture to trust my darlings to you," he
said, "there is nothing in all the world I should like better than to
accompany Seymour to the Himalayas. He starts in a fortnight's time,
so there really is not a day to lose."

"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