'Don't you remember us?' asked Robert.'You married our burglar for us--don't you remember?'
'I KNEW it was a gang,' said Amelia.'Septimus, these abandoned children are members of a desperate burgling gang who are robbing the house.They have already forced the missionary-box and purloined its contents.'
The Reverend Septimus passed his hand wearily over his brow.
'I feel a little faint,' he said, 'running upstairs so quickly.'
'We never touched the beastly box,' said Robert.
'Then your confederates did,' said Miss Selina.
'No, no,' said the curate, hastily.'_I_ opened the box myself.
This morning I found I had not enough small change for the Mothers'
Independent Unity Measles and Croup Insurance payments.I suppose this is NOT a dream, is it?'
'Dream? No, indeed.Search the house.I insist upon it.'
The curate, still pale and trembling, searched the house, which, of course, was blamelessly free of burglars.
When he came back he sank wearily into his chair.
'Aren't you going to let us go?' asked Robert, with furious indignation, for there is something in being held by a strong lady that sets the blood of a boy boiling in his veins with anger and despair.'We've never done anything to you.It's all the carpet.
It dropped us on the leads.WE couldn't help it.You know how it carried you over to the island, and you had to marry the burglar to the cook.'
'Oh, my head!' said the curate.
'Never mind your head just now,' said Robert; 'try to be honest and honourable, and do your duty in that state of life!'
'This is a judgement on me for something, I suppose,' said the Reverend Septimus, wearily, 'but I really cannot at the moment remember what.'
'Send for the police,' said Miss Selina.
'Send for a doctor,' said the curate.
'Do you think they ARE mad, then,' said Miss Amelia.
'I think I am,' said the curate.
Jane had been crying ever since her capture.Now she said--'You aren't now, but perhaps you will be, if--And it would serve you jolly well right, too.'
'Aunt Selina,' said the curate, 'and Aunt Amelia, believe me, this is only an insane dream.You will realize it soon.It has happened to me before.But do not let us be unjust, even in a dream.Do not hold the children; they have done no harm.As Isaid before, it was I who opened the box.'
The strong, bony hands unwillingly loosened their grasp.Robert shook himself and stood in sulky resentment.But Jane ran to the curate and embraced him so suddenly that he had not time to defend himself.
'You're a dear,' she said.'It IS like a dream just at first, but you get used to it.Now DO let us go.There's a good, kind, honourable clergyman.'
'I don't know,' said the Reverend Septimus; 'it's a difficult problem.It is such a very unusual dream.Perhaps it's only a sort of other life--quite real enough for you to be mad in.And if you're mad, there might be a dream-asylum where you'd be kindly treated, and in time restored, cured, to your sorrowing relatives.
It is very hard to see your duty plainly, even in ordinary life, and these dream-circumstances are so complicated--'
