And so she slept sweetly and dreamed happily, and awoke in the morning with color in her cheeks and hope in her eyes. CHAPTER XXIV. ON THE TRAIL. It was on the very evening that Orion and Diana had left the great circus that Uncle William and the two children arrived at Delaney Manor, for Delaney Manor was only five miles distant from the prosperous seaside town of Madersley. Now, Uncle Ben had very little idea, when he brought the two children to the southwest of England, that he was really taking them back to their native country. These things, however, are ordered, and the wisest man in the world cannot go against the leadings of Providence. Uncle Ben thought to hide the children from their best friends, whereas, in reality, he was taking them home once more. But two little circus children might wander about at their own sweet will at Madersley, and be heard nothing whatever of at Delaney Manor, and these little children might never have been found, and this story might have had a totally different ending, but for Fortune. When Fortune, however, lay down on her mattress by Iris' side, she thought a great deal before she went to sleep. She thought, as she expressed it to herself, all round the subject, to the right of it, and to the left of it. She thought of it in its breadth, and she thought of it in its height, and, having finally settled the matter to her own satisfaction, she went to sleep, and soothed little Iris with the comforting music of her snores. On the following morning she had an interview with Mr. Dolman. "I want to ask you a straight question, sir," she said. "What is it the police are doing? It seems a mighty strange thing to me that two little children should be lost in the middle of a civilized country like England." "It seems a stranger thing to me," replied Uncle William. "I am dreadfully puzzled over the whole matter. We have now four detectives at work, but up to the present they have not got the slightest clew to the children's whereabouts." "As like as not," said Fortune, "these two have been stolen by gypsies." "We thought of that at once," said Uncle William. "Yes," interrupted Fortune, "and then, when you couldn't make the thing fit, or find your clew, you dropped it. Now let me tell you, sir, that aint our way in America. When we get the faintest ghost of a clew we cling on to it as if it were grim death, and we don't let it go, not for nobody. It's my belief that gypsies are at the bottom of the matter, and why have not you and your detectives looked in every gypsy encampment in the length and breadth of England?" "There were some gypsies in our neighborhood, only we did not know it the first day," continued Mr. Dolman, "and their camp was of course thoroughly examined, but no little people in the least resembling the children were found there."