"To say the truth, I have hesitated to do so. He suffered terribly at the death of his wife. It would be fearful for him to learn that two of the children are missing, and one very ill. I have waited, hoping for better news."
"You did wrong. He ought to know of this calamity. Each day that does not give you tidings of the missing children lessens the chance of your ever recovering them. I must say their disappearance is most mysterious."
"So it is," answered Aunt Jane suddenly. "And in my heart of hearts," she added, "I am greatly alarmed."
"Well, if I were you, I would send a cablegram to the address most likely to find Mr. Delaney."
"If you think it right."
"I do. It is the only thing to do. He ought to come home immediately. That little girl ought to have her father with her."
"Then your opinion is that Iris is very ill?"
"She is on her way to be very ill. At the same time, if her mind is relieved, she will be well in a week. Under existing circumstances, however, there seems but small chance of that. You ought to communicate with the father, and if I were you I would let the child do something herself—even if that something is useless—to try to recover her lost brother and sister."
"What do you mean? It really is impossible for the child to go over the country looking for Orion and Diana. Oh, what trouble I brought upon myself when I undertook the care of my brother's family!"
"I am very sorry for you, Mrs. Dolman, but I must give you my true opinion. Please act on my suggestion; I am sure you will not regret it. Communicate with the father in the quickest way possible, urge him to return to London without fail, and give little Iris something to do which will occupy and satisfy her mind. In the meantime I will order her a tonic, but medicines are not what she needs. She requires mind rest, and nothing else will make her well."