"No; it was done in a foreign country, and I missed him. You see, Sally, dreams are significant things sometimes. I don't know what the world would do without 'em. There's the Bible--what would the Bible be without dreams, and visions? Did you ever hear of Pharaoh?"
"No; was he a relation of Joanna's?"
"Pharaoh was a king, one of those you see in the British Museum done up in bundles. He was a Bible man, and had dreams. Then there was Daniel, and all the other prophets--they were always having dreams. I tell you what, Sally. If it wasn't for dreams, there would never have been any prophets. There are your shoes--when you're a grown-up woman, you can pay me for mending 'em."
Sally murmured her thanks, and leant forward to put them on. Seth Dumbrick was also bending forward, and in the act, the precipice of his forehead loomed ominously over Sally, as though it were about to fall upon her. Now, whether it was from some fantastic fear of the occurrence of such a catastrophe, or from her own weak condition, or from the excitement of her mind produced by the strange stories narrated by Seth Dumbrick, Sally, as the cobbler leant over her, gave a sigh, and sank to the ground, with her shoes in her hand.
Somewhat perplexed by the novelty of the situation, Seth Dumbrick raised Sally without exactly knowing what to do with her. The child's eyes were closed, and she made no movement or response to his inquiries as to what was the matter with her. Every moment added to the embarrassment of the situation, and reflecting grimly upon what the neighbours might think if they happened to discover Sally's dark, passive face lying against his knee, Seth Dumbrick decided that the best and most humane plan would be to carry her down to his cellar, and there wait for her recovery. He carried her down, not without tenderness, and then returned for the baby, whom he placed on the ground by Sally's side.
During the short time that Sally was left to herself it might not have been quite a matter of the imagination to fancy that she raised her eyelids cautiously and cunningly, and looked timidly about her. But the cellar was in darkness, and when Seth Dumbrick returned with the baby, Sally lay with closed eyes, and with apparently as little life in her as a stone.
The cellar, as has been said, was in darkness, and only to one accustomed to the gloom could the objects it contained be seen. But Seth had lived in the place for years, and from long custom his sight had accustomed itself to the shadows by which he loved--for he was by no means an unhappy man--to be surrounded. As Sally lay before him, he could see her face distinctly.
"I'd best bathe her head with water," he muttered; "it'll liven her up."
Taking a cup, he dipped it into what looked like a large glass tank, and withdrew it full of water. As he raised it from the surface, a stickleback leapt from the cup, and fell, with a little plash, into the tank. Seth, peering into the cup, inserted his fingers, and lifted out two water-beetles, which he deposited in the tank. Then he knelt by Sally, and laved her face.
Seth Dumbrick was a bachelor, fifty years of age, with no ties of kindred, and desiring none as it seemed, but not entirely without companionship. He was the possessor of an aquarium, constructed by himself, having in its centre a device in rocks, and with weeds, lilies, and what water-plants were in season, floating on the surface through the whole of the year. In the aquarium was a strange collection of fish and reptiles, comprising gold and silver fish, sticklebacks, silver pike, water worms and beetles, and as many varieties as Seth could gather and purchase of the fantastic Salamander. Of a certain species of this family of Salamandridæ, with large lustrous yellow spots and stripes which Seth claimed to come from Japan, and which he called his water-leopards, Seth was particularly proud. The rocks in the centre of the aquarium came sheer out of the water to suit the habit of those of his creatures amphibiously inclined, and it was from this aquarium he drew the water to restore Sally to consciousness.