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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Little Mother to the Others, by L. T. Meade
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: A Little Mother to the Others
+
+Author: L. T. Meade
+
+Release Date: January 12, 2006 [EBook #17506]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LITTLE MOTHER TO THE OTHERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Lenna Knox, Juliet Sutherland, Sankar
+Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                          A Little Mother to
+                              the Others
+
+
+
+                                  BY
+
+                            MRS. L.T. MEADE
+
+                               AUTHOR OF
+                "POLLY: A NEW-FASHIONED GIRL," "A SWEET
+                         GIRL GRADUATE," ETC.
+
+
+
+
+
+                               NEW YORK
+
+                           GROSSET & DUNLAP
+
+                              PUBLISHERS
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+CHAPTER
+
+I. THE POOR INNOCENT,
+
+II. A LITTLE MOTHER TO THE OTHERS,
+
+III. THE ARRIVAL OF THE AUNT,
+
+IV. RUB-A-DUB,
+
+V. AUNT IS HER NAME,
+
+VI. THE POOR DEAD UN'S,
+
+VII. BUT ANN COULD NOT HELP LETTING OUT NOW AND THEN,
+
+VIII. THE STRAW TOO MUCH,
+
+IX. THE PUNISHMENT CHAMBER,
+
+X. BOW AND ARROW,
+
+XI. JOG'APHY,
+
+XII. A BABY'S HONOR,
+
+XIII. BIRCH ROD,
+
+XIV. DIANA'S REVENGE,
+
+XV. MOTHER RODESIA,
+
+XVI. UNCLE BEN,
+
+XVII. GREASED LIGHTNING,
+
+XVIII. THE HEART OF THE LITTLE MOTHER,
+
+XIX. "A PIGMY I CALL HIM",
+
+XX. "LET'S PERTEND," SAID DIANA,
+
+XXI. POLE STAR,
+
+XXII. THE MILKMAN,
+
+XXIII. FORTUNE,
+
+XXIV. ON THE TRAIL,
+
+XXV. FOUND,
+
+XXVI. THE LITTLE MOTHER TO THE RESCUE,
+
+
+
+
+A LITTLE MOTHER TO THE OTHERS
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE POOR INNOCENT.
+
+
+The four children had rather peculiar names. The eldest girl was
+called Iris, which, as everybody ought to know, means rainbow--indeed,
+there was an Iris spoken of in the old Greek legends, who was supposed
+to be Hera's chief messenger, and whenever a rainbow appeared in the
+sky it was said that Iris was bringing down a message from Hera. The
+Iris of this story was a very pretty, thoughtful little girl, aged ten
+years. Her mother often talked to her about her name, and told her the
+story which was associated with it. The eldest boy was called Apollo,
+which also is a Greek name, and was supposed at one time to belong to
+the most beautiful boy in the world. The next girl was called Diana,
+and the youngest boy's name was Orion.
+
+When this story opens, Iris was ten years old, Apollo nine, Diana six,
+and little Orion five. They were like ordinary children in appearance,
+being neither particularly handsome nor particularly the reverse; but
+in their minds and ways, in their habits and tastes, they seemed to
+have inherited a savor of those far-off beings after whom their mother
+had called them. They were, in short, very unworldly children--that
+does not mean that they were specially religious--but they did not
+care for fine clothes, nor the ordinary amusements which ordinary
+children delight in. They loved flowers with a love which was almost a
+passion, and they also knew a great deal about the stars, and often
+coaxed their mother to allow them to sit up late at night to watch the
+different constellations; but above all these things they adored, with
+a great adoration, the entire animal kingdom.
+
+It so happened that the little Delaneys spent the greater part of
+their time in a beautiful garden. I don't think, in all the course of
+my wanderings, I ever saw a garden quite to compare to that in which
+their early days were spent. Even in the winter they lived the greater
+part of their time here, being hardy children and never catching cold.
+The house was a fine and beautiful building, having belonged to their
+family for several generations, but the children thought nothing at
+all of that in comparison with the garden. Here, when possible, they
+even had their lessons; here they played all their wonderful and
+remarkable games; here they went through their brief sorrows, and
+tasted their sweetest joys. But I must hasten to describe the garden
+itself. In the first place, it was old-fashioned, having very high
+brick walls covered all over with fruit trees. These fruit trees had
+grown slowly, and were now in the perfection of their prime. Never
+were such peaches to be seen, nor such apricots, nor such cherries, as
+ripened slowly on the red brick walls of the old garden. Inside the
+walls almost all well-known English flowers flourished in lavish
+profusion. There was also fruit to be found here in quantities. Never
+were such strawberries to be seen as could be gathered from those
+great strawberry beds. Then the gooseberries with which the old bushes
+were laden; the currants, red, black, and white; the raspberries, had
+surely their match nowhere else on this earth.
+
+The walled-in garden contained quite five acres of ground, and was
+divided itself into three portions. In the middle was the flower
+garden proper. Here there was a long, straight walk which led to an
+arbor at the bottom. The children were particularly fond of this
+arbor, for their father had made it for them with his own hands, and
+their mother had watched its growth. Mrs. Delaney was very delicate at
+the time, and as she looked on and saw the pretty arbor growing into
+shape, she used to lean on Iris' arm and talk to her now and then in
+her soft, low voice about the flowers and the animals, and the happy
+life which the little people were leading. At these moments a look
+would often come into her mother's gentle eyes which caused Iris'
+heart to beat fast, and made her tighten her clasp on the slender arm.
+Then, when the arbor was quite finished, Mr. Delaney put little seats
+into it, a rustic chair for each child, which he or she could take in
+or out at pleasure. The chairs were carved in commemoration of each
+child's name. Iris had the deep purple flowers which go by that name
+twined round and round the back of hers. Apollo's chair was made
+memorable with his well-known lyre and bow, and these words were
+carved round it: "The golden lyre shall be my friend, the bent bow my
+delight, and in oracles will I foretell the dark future."
+
+Diana's chair had a bow and quiver engraved on the back, while little
+Orion's represented a giant with a girdle and a sword. The children
+were very proud of their chairs, and often talked of them to one
+another, and Iris, who was the story-teller of the party, was never
+tired of telling the stories of the great originals after whom she and
+her brothers and sister were named.
+
+Down the straight path which led to the pretty arbor were Scotch
+roses, red and white. The smell of these roses in the summer was quite
+enough to ravish you. Iris in particular used to sniff at them and
+sniff at them until she felt nearly intoxicated with delight.
+
+The central garden, which was mostly devoted to flowers, led through
+little, old-fashioned, somewhat narrow postern doors into the fruit
+gardens on either side. In these were the gooseberries. Here were to
+be found the great beds of strawberries; here, by-and-by, ripened the
+plums and the many sorts of apples and pears; here, too, were the
+great glass houses where the grapes assumed their deep claret color
+and their wonderful bloom; and here also were some peculiar and
+marvelous foreign flowers, such as orchids, and many others.
+
+Whenever the children were not in the house they were to be found in
+the garden, for, in addition to the abundance of fruit and vegetables,
+it also possessed some stately trees, which gave plenty of shade even
+when the sun was at its hottest. Here Iris would lie full length on
+her face and hands, and dream dreams to any extent. Now and then also
+she would wake up with a start and tell marvelous stories to her
+brothers and sister. She told stories very well, and the others always
+listened solemnly and begged her to tell more, and questioned and
+argued, and tried to make the adventures she described come really
+into their own lives.
+
+Iris was undoubtedly the most imaginative of all the little party.
+She was also the most gentle and the most thoughtful. She took most
+after her beautiful mother, and thought more than any of the others of
+the peculiar names after which they were all called.
+
+On a certain day in the first week of a particularly hot and lovely
+June, Iris, who had been in the house for some time, came slowly out,
+swinging her large muslin hat on her arm. Her face looked paler than
+usual, and somewhat thoughtful.
+
+"Here you are at last, Iris," called out Diana, in her brisk voice,
+"and not a moment too soon. I have just found a poor innocent dead on
+the walk; you must come and look at it at once."
+
+On hearing these words, the gloom left Iris' face as if by magic.
+
+"Where is it?" she asked. "I hope you did not tread on it, Diana."
+
+"No; but Puff-Ball did," answered Diana. "Don't blame him, please,
+Iris; he is only a puppy and always up to mischief. He took the poor
+innocent in his mouth and shook it; but I think it was quite deaded
+before that."
+
+"Then, if it is dead, it must be buried," said Iris solemnly. "Bring
+it into the arbor, and let us think what kind of funeral we will give
+it."
+
+"Why not into the dead-house at once?" queried Diana.
+
+"No; the arbor will do for the present."
+
+Iris quickened her footsteps and walked down the straight path through
+the midst of the Scotch roses. Having reached the pretty little
+summer-house, she seated herself on her rustic chair and waited until
+Diana arrived with the poor innocent. This was a somewhat unsightly
+object, being nothing more nor less than a dead earthworm which had
+been found on the walk, and which Diana respected, as she did all live
+creatures, great or small.
+
+"Put it down there," said Iris; "we can have a funeral when the sun is
+not quite so hot."
+
+"I suppose it will have a private funeral," said Apollo, who came into
+the summer-house at that moment. "It is nothing but a poor innocent,
+and not worth a great deal of trouble; and I do hope, Iris," he added
+eagerly, "that you will not expect me to be present, for I have got
+some most important chemical experiments which I am anxious to go on
+with. I quite hope to succeed with my thermometer to-day, and, after
+all, as it is only a worm----"
+
+Iris looked up at him with very solemn eyes.
+
+"_Only_ a worm," she repeated. "Is _that_ its fault, poor thing?"
+Apollo seemed to feel the indignant glance of Iris' brown eyes. He sat
+down submissively on his own chair. Orion and Diana dropped on their
+knees by Iris' side. "I think," said Iris slowly, "that we will give
+this poor innocent a simple funeral. The coffin must be made of dock
+leaves, and----"
+
+Here she was suddenly interrupted--a shadow fell across the entrance
+door of the pretty summer-house. An elderly woman, with a thin face
+and lank, figure, looked in.
+
+"Miss Iris," she said, "Mrs. Delaney is awake and would be glad to see
+you."
+
+"Mother!" cried Iris eagerly. She turned at once to her sister and
+brothers. "The innocent must wait," she said. "Put it in the
+dead-house with the other creatures. I will attend to the funeral in
+the evening or to-morrow. Don't keep me now, children."
+
+"But I thought you had just come from mother," said Apollo.
+
+"No. When I went to her she was asleep. Don't keep me, please." The
+woman who had brought the message had already disappeared down the
+long straight walk. Iris took to her heels and ran after her.
+"Fortune," she said, looking into her face, "is mother any better?"
+
+"As to that, Miss Iris, it is more than I can tell you. Please don't
+hold on to my hand, miss. In hot weather I hate children to cling to
+me."
+
+Iris said nothing more, but she withdrew a little from Fortune's side.
+
+Fortune hurried her steps, and Iris kept time with her. When they
+reached the house, the woman stopped and looked intently at the child.
+
+"You can go straight upstairs at once, miss, and into the room," she
+said. "You need not knock; my mistress is waiting for you."
+
+"Don't you think, Fortune, that mother is just a little _wee_ bit
+better?" asked Iris again. There was an imploring note in her question
+this time.
+
+"She will tell you herself, my dear. Now, be quick; don't keep her
+waiting. It is bad for people, when they are ill, to be kept waiting."
+
+"I won't keep her; I'll go to her this very instant," said Iris.
+
+The old house was as beautiful as the garden to which it belonged. It
+had been built, a great part of it, centuries ago, and had, like many
+other houses of its date, been added to from time to time. Queerly
+shaped rooms jutted out in many quarters; odd stairs climbed up in
+several directions; towers and turrets were added to the roof;
+passages, some narrow, some broad, connected the new buildings with
+the old. The whole made an incongruous and yet beautiful effect, the
+new rooms possessing the advantages and comforts which modern builders
+put into their houses, and the older part of the house the quaint
+devices and thick, wainscoted walls and deep, mullioned windows of the
+times which are gone by.
+
+Iris ran quickly through the wide entrance hall and up the broad,
+white, stone stairs. These stairs were a special feature of Delaney
+Manor. They had been brought all the way from Italy by a Delaney
+nearly a hundred years ago, and were made of pure marble, and were
+very lovely to look at. When Iris reached the first landing, she
+turned aside from the spacious modern apartments and, opening a green
+baize door, ran down a narrow passage. At the end of the passage she
+turned to the left and went down another passage, and then wended her
+way up some narrow stairs, which curled round and round as if they
+were going up a tower. This, as a matter of fact, was the case.
+Presently Iris pushed aside a curtain, and found herself in an octagon
+room nearly at the top of a somewhat high, but squarely built, tower.
+This room, which was large and airy, was wainscoted with oak; there
+was a thick Turkey carpet on the floor, and the many windows were
+flung wide open, so that the summer breeze, coming in fresh and sweet
+from this great height, made the whole lovely room as fresh and cheery
+and full of sweet perfume as if its solitary inmate were really in the
+open air.
+
+Iris, however, had often been in the room before, and had no time or
+thought now to give to its appearance. Her eyes darted to the sofa on
+which her young mother lay. Mrs. Delaney was half-sitting up, and
+looked almost too young to be the mother of a child as big as Iris.
+She had one of the most beautiful faces God ever gave to anybody. It
+was not so much that her features were perfect, but they were full of
+light, full of soul, and such a very loving expression beamed in her
+eyes that no man, woman, or child ever looked at her without feeling
+the best in their natures coming immediately to the surface.
+
+As to little Iris, her feelings for her mother were quite beyond any
+words to express. She ran up to her now and knelt by her side.
+
+"Kiss me, Iris," said Mrs. Delaney.
+
+Iris put up her soft, rosebud lips; they met the equally soft lips of
+the mother.
+
+"You are much better, mummy; are you not?" said the child, in an
+eager, half-passionate whisper.
+
+"I have had a long sleep, darling, and I am rested," said Mrs.
+Delaney. "I told Fortune to call you. Father is away for the day. I
+thought we could have half an hour uninterrupted."
+
+"How beautiful, mother! It is the most delightful thing in all the
+world to be alone with you, mummy."
+
+"Well, bring your little chair and sit near me, Iris. Fortune will
+bring in tea in a moment, and you can pour it out. You shall have tea
+with me, if you wish it, darling."
+
+Iris gave a sigh of rapture; she was too happy almost for words. This
+was almost invariably the case when she found herself in her mother's
+presence. When with her mother she was quiet and seldom spoke a great
+deal. In the garden with the other children Iris was the one who
+chattered most, but with her mother her words were always few. She
+felt herself then to be more or less in a listening attitude. She
+listened for the words which dropped from those gentle lips; she was
+always on the lookout for the love-light which filled the soft brown
+eyes.
+
+At that moment the old servant, Fortune, brought in the tea on a
+pretty tray and laid it on a small table near Mrs. Delaney. Then Iris
+got up, and with an important air poured it out and brought a cup,
+nicely prepared, to her mother.
+
+Mrs. Delaney sipped her tea and looked from time to time at her little
+daughter. When she did so, Iris devoured her with her anxious eyes.
+
+"No," she said to herself, "mother does not look ill--not even _very_
+tired. She is not like anybody else, and that is why--why she wears
+that wonderful, almost holy expression. Sometimes I wish she did not,
+but I would not change her, not for all the world."
+
+Iris' heart grew quiet. Her cup of bliss was quite full. She scarcely
+touched her tea; she was too happy even to eat.
+
+"Have you had enough tea, mother?" she asked presently.
+
+"Yes, darling. Please push the tea-table a little aside, and then come
+up very near to me. I want to hold your dear little hand in mine; I
+can't talk much."
+
+"But you are better--you are surely better, mother?"
+
+"In one sense, yes, Iris."
+
+Iris moved the tea-table very deftly aside, and then, drawing up her
+small chair, slipped her hand inside her mother's.
+
+"I have made up my mind to tell you, Iris," said the mother. She
+looked at the little girl for a full minute, and then began to talk in
+a low, clear voice. "I am the mother of four children. I don't think
+there are any other children like you four in the wide world. I have
+thought a great deal about you, and while I have been ill have prayed
+to God to keep you and to help me, and now, Iris, now that I have got
+to go away--"
+
+"To go away, mother?" interrupted Iris, turning very pale.
+
+"Yes, dearest. Don't be troubled, darling; I can make it all seem
+quite happy to you. But now, when I see it must be done, that I must
+undertake this very long journey, I want to put things perfectly
+straight between you and me, my little daughter."
+
+"Things have been always straight between us, mother," said Iris. "I
+don't quite understand."
+
+"Do you remember the time when I went to Australia?"
+
+"Are you going to Australia again?" asked Iris. "You were a whole year
+away then. It was a very long time, and sometimes, mother, sometimes
+Fortune was a little cross, and Miss Stevenson never seemed to suit
+Apollo. I thought I would tell you about that."
+
+"But Fortune means well, dearest. She has your true interest at heart,
+and I think matters will be differently arranged, as far as Miss
+Stevenson is concerned, in the future. It is not about her or Fortune
+I want to speak now."
+
+"And you are going back to Australia again?"
+
+"I am going quite as far as Australia; but we need not talk of the
+distance just now. I have not time for many words, nor very much
+strength to speak. You know, Iris, the meaning of your names, don't
+you?"
+
+"Of course," answered Iris; "and, mother, I have often talked to the
+others about our names. I have told Apollo how beautiful he must try
+to be, not only in his face, but in his mind, mother, and how brave
+and how clever. I have told him that he must try to have a beautiful
+soul; and Orion must be very brave and strong, and Diana must be
+bright and sparkling and noble. Yes, mother; we all know about our
+names."
+
+"I am glad of that," said Mrs. Delaney. "I gave you the names for a
+purpose. I wanted you to have names with meaning to them. I wanted you
+to try to live up to them. Now, Iris, that I am really going away, I
+am afraid you children will find a great many things altered. You have
+hitherto lived a very sheltered life; you have just had the dear old
+garden and the run of the house, and you have seen your father or me
+every day. But afterwards, when I have gone, you will doubtless have
+to go into the world; and, my darling, my darling, the cold world does
+not always understand the meaning of names like yours, the meaning of
+strength and beauty and nobleness, and of bright, sparkling, and high
+ideas. In short, my little girl, if you four children are to be worthy
+of your names and to fulfill the dreams, the longings, the _hopes_ I
+have centered round you, there is nothing whatever for you to do but
+to begin to fight your battles."
+
+Iris was silent. She had very earnest eyes, something like her
+mother's in expression. They were fixed now on Mrs. Delaney's face.
+
+"I will not explain exactly what I mean," said the mother, giving the
+little hand a loving squeeze, "only to assure you, Iris, that, as the
+trial comes, strength will be given to you to meet it. Please
+understand, my darling, that from first to last, to the end of life,
+it is all a fight. 'The road winds uphill all the way.' If you will
+remember that you will not think things half as hard, and you will be
+brave and strong, and, like the rainbow, you will cheer people even in
+the darkest hours. But, Iris, I want you to promise me one thing--I
+want you, my little girl, to be a mother to the others."
+
+"A mother to the others?" said Iris, half aloud. She paused and did
+not speak at all for a moment, her imagination was very busy. She
+thought of all the creatures to whom she was already a mother, not
+only her own dear pets--the mice in their cages, the silk-worms, the
+three dogs, the stray cat, the pet Persian cat, the green frogs, the
+poor innocents, as the children called worms--but in addition to
+these, all creatures that suffered in the animal kingdom, all flowers
+that were about to fade, all sad things that seemed to need care and
+comfort. But up to the present she had never thought of the other
+children except as her equals. Apollo was only a year younger than
+herself, and in some ways braver and stouter and more fearless; and
+Orion and Diana were something like their names--very bright and even
+fierce at times. She, after all, was the gentlest of the party, and
+she was very young--not more than ten years of age. How could she
+possibly be a mother to the others?
+
+She looked at Mrs. Delaney, and her mother gazed solemnly at her,
+waiting for her to speak.
+
+"After all," thought Iris, "to satisfy the longing in mother's eyes is
+the first thing of all. I will promise, cost what it may."
+
+"Yes," she said; then softly, "I will, mother; I will be a mother to
+the others."
+
+"Kiss me, Iris."
+
+The little girl threw her arms round her mother's neck; their lips met
+in a long embrace.
+
+"Darling, you understand? I am satisfied with your promise, and I am
+tired."
+
+"Must I go away, mother? May not I stay very quietly with you? Can you
+not sleep if I am in the room?"
+
+"I would rather you left me now. I can sleep better when no one is by.
+Ring the bell for Fortune as you go. She will come and make me
+comfortable. Yes; I am very tired."
+
+"One moment first, mummy--you have not told me yet when you are going
+on the journey."
+
+"The day is not quite fixed, Iris, although it is--yes, it is nearly
+so."
+
+"And you have not said _where_ you are going, mother. I should like to
+tell the others."
+
+But Mrs. Delaney had closed her eyes, and did not make any reply.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+A LITTLE MOTHER TO THE OTHERS.
+
+
+That night the children's young mother went on her journey. The
+summons for her to go came unexpectedly, as it often does in the end.
+She had not even time to say good-by to the children, nor to her
+husband, only just a brief moment to look, with startled eyes, at the
+wonderful face of the angel who had come to fetch her, and then with a
+smile of bliss to let him clasp her in his arms and feel his strong
+wings round her, and then she was away, beyond the lovely house and
+the beautiful garden, and the children sleeping quietly in their beds,
+and the husband who was slumbering by her side--beyond the tall trees
+and the peaks of the highest mountains, beyond the stars themselves,
+until finally she entered the portals of a home that is everlasting,
+and found herself in a land where the flowers do not fade.
+
+In the morning the children were told that their mother was dead. They
+all cried, and everyone thought it dreadfully sad, except Iris, who
+knew better. It was Fortune who brought in the news to the
+children--they had just gone into the day-nursery at the time.
+
+Fortune was a stern woman, somewhat over fifty years of age. She was
+American by birth, and had lived with Mrs. Delaney since Iris was
+born. Mrs. Delaney was also American, which may have accounted for
+some of her bright fancies, and quiet, yet sweet and quick ways.
+Fortune was very fond of the children after her fashion, which was,
+however, as a rule, somewhat severe and exacting. But to-day, in her
+bitter grief, she sank down on the nearest chair, and allowed them all
+to crowd round her, and cried bitterly, and took little Orion in her
+arms and kissed him and petted him, and begged of each child to
+forgive her for ever having been cross or disagreeable, and promised,
+as well and as heartily as she could, never to transgress again in
+that manner as long as she lived.
+
+While the others were sobbing and crying round Fortune, Iris stood
+silent.
+
+"Where is father?" she said at last, in a very quiet but determined
+voice.
+
+Fortune glanced round at the grave little girl in some wonder.
+
+"Miss Iris," she said, "you are not even crying."
+
+"What do tears matter?" answered Iris. "Please, Fortune, where is
+father? I should like to go to him."
+
+"He is locked up in his study, darling, and could not possibly see you
+nor anyone else. He is quite stunned, master is, and no wonder. You
+cannot go to him at present, Miss Iris."
+
+Iris did not say another word, but she looked more grave and more
+thoughtful than ever. After a long pause she sat down in her own
+little chair near the open window. It was a very lovely day, just as
+beautiful as the one which had preceded it. As the child sat by the
+window, and the soft, sweet breeze fanned her pale cheeks, an
+indescribable longing came over her. No one was particularly noticing
+her. She crept softly out of the room, ran down some passages, and at
+last found herself once more mounting the turret stairs to the tower.
+A moment later she had entered the octagon room where she and her
+mother had talked together on the previous day. The windows were wide
+open, the pretty room looked just as usual, but mother's sofa was
+vacant. Iris went straight over to one of the open windows, knelt
+down, and put her little elbows on the ledge.
+
+"Yes, mother," she said, speaking aloud and looking full up at the
+bright blue sky, "I promise you. I promised you yesterday, but I make
+a fresh, very, _very_ solemn promise to-day. Yes, I will be a mother
+to the others; I will try never to think of myself; I will remember,
+mother darling, exactly what you want me to do. I will try to be
+beautiful, to be a little messenger of the gods, as you sometimes said
+I might be, and to be like the rainbow, full of hope. And I will try
+to help Apollo to be the most beautiful and the bravest boy in the
+world; and, mother, I will do my best to help Diana to be strong and
+bright and full of courage; and I will do what I can for Orion--he
+must be grand like a giant, so that he may live up to the wonderful
+name you have given him. Mother, it will be very hard, but I promise,
+I promise with all my might, to do everything you want me to do. I
+will act just as if you were there and could see, mother, and I will
+_always_ remember that it is beautiful for you to have gone away, for
+while you were here you had so much pain and so much illness. I won't
+fret, mother; no, I won't fret--I promise to be a mother to the
+others, and there won't be any time to fret."
+
+No tears came to Iris' bright eyes, but her little thin face grew
+paler and paler. Presently she left the window and went slowly
+downstairs again.
+
+Fortune had now left the other children to themselves. They were
+scattered about the bright day nursery, looking miserable, though they
+could scarcely tell why.
+
+"I don't believe a bit that mother is never coming back," said Orion,
+in a stout, determined voice.
+
+He was a very handsome little fellow, strongly made--he had great big
+black eyes like his father's. He was standing now with his Noah's ark
+in his hand.
+
+"It is unfeeling of you to want to play with your Noah's ark to-day,
+Orion," said Apollo. "Now, do you think I would go into my laboratory
+and try to make a thermometer?"
+
+"Well, at least," said Diana, speaking with a sort of jerk, and her
+small face turning crimson, "whatever happens, the animals must be
+fed."
+
+"Of course they must, Diana," said Iris, coming forward, "and, Apollo,
+there is not the least harm in our going into the garden, and I don't
+think there is any harm in Orion playing with his Noah's ark. Come,
+children; come with me. We will feed all the pets and then go into the
+arbor, and, if you like, I will tell you stories."
+
+"What sort of stories?" asked Diana, in quite a cheerful voice. She
+trotted up to her sister, and gave her her hand as she spoke. She also
+was a finely made child, not unlike her name.
+
+"I 'gree with Orion," she said. "I'm quite certain sure that mother is
+coming back 'fore long. Fortune did talk nonsense. She said, Iris--do
+you know what she said?--she said that in the middle of the night,
+just when it was black dark, you know, a white angel came into the
+room and took mother in his arms and flew up to the sky with her. You
+don't believe that; do you, Iris?"
+
+"Yes, I do, Diana," answered Iris. "But I will tell you more about it
+in the arbor. Come, Apollo; mother would not like us to stay in the
+house just because she has gone away to the angels. Mother never was
+the least little bit selfish. Come into the garden."
+
+The three forlorn-looking little children were much comforted by Iris'
+brave words. They dried their eyes, and Diana ran into the night
+nursery to fetch their hats. They then ran downstairs without anyone
+specially noticing them, passed through the great entrance hall, and
+out on to the wide gravel sweep, which led by a side walk into the
+lovely garden.
+
+Iris held Diana by one hand and Orion by the other, and Apollo ran on
+in front.
+
+"Now, then," said Iris, when they had reached the garden, "we must
+begin by feeding all the pets."
+
+"There _are_ an awful lot of them," said Diana, in quite a cheerful
+voice; "and don't you remember, Iris, the poor innocent was not buried
+yesterday?"
+
+Iris could not help giving a little shiver.
+
+"No more it was," she said, in a low tone. "It must have quite a
+private funeral. Please get some dock leaves, Apollo."
+
+"Yes," answered Apollo.
+
+He ran off, returning with a bunch in a moment or two.
+
+"Take them into the dead-house," said Iris, "and sew them up and put
+the poor innocent inside, and then take your spade and dig a hole in
+the cemetery. We can't have a public funeral. I--I don't feel up to
+it," she added, her lips trembling for the first time.
+
+Diana nestled close up to Iris.
+
+"You need not look sad, Iris," she said; "there's no cause, is there?
+I don't believe that story 'bout mother, and if it is not true
+there'll be nothing wrong in my laughing, will there?"
+
+"You may laugh if you like, darling," answered Iris.
+
+They all entered the arbor now, and Iris seated herself in the little
+chair which mother had seen father make, and round which the beautiful
+flowers of the iris had been carved.
+
+"Laugh, Di," she said again; "I know mother won't mind."
+
+For a full moment Diana stood silent, staring at her sister; then her
+big black eyes, which had been full of the deepest gloom, brightened.
+A butterfly passed the entrance to the summer-house, and Diana flew
+after it, chasing it with a loud shout and a gay, hearty fit of
+laughter.
+
+Apollo came back with the stray cat, whose name was "Trust," in his
+arms.
+
+"She looks miserable, poor thing," he said. "I don't believe she has
+had anything to eat to-day. She must have her breakfast, as usual;
+must she not, Iris?"
+
+"Yes; we must feed all the pets," said Iris, making a great effort to
+brighten up. "Let us go regularly to work, all of us. Apollo, will you
+take the birds? You may as well clean out their cages--they are sure
+to want it. I will collect flies for the green frogs, and Orion, you
+may pick mulberry leaves for the silk-worms."
+
+For the next hour the children were busily employed. No one missed
+them in the house. The house was full of shade, but the garden,
+although mother had left it forever, was quite bright; the sun shone
+as brilliantly as it did every other day; a great many fresh flowers
+had come out; there was a very sweet smell from the opening roses, and
+in especial the Scotch roses, white and red, made a waft of delicious
+perfume as the children ran up and down.
+
+"I'm awfully hungry," said Diana suddenly.
+
+"But we won't go into the house for lunch to-day," said Iris. "Let us
+have a fruit lunch--I think mother would like us to have a fruit lunch
+just for to-day. Please, Apollo, go into the other garden and pick
+some of the ripest strawberries. There were a great many ripe
+yesterday, and there are sure to be more to-day. Bring a big leaf
+full, and we can eat them in the summer-house."
+
+Apollo ran off at once. He brought back a good large leaf of
+strawberries, and Iris divided them into four portions. Diana and
+Orion, seated on their little chairs, ate theirs with much gusto, and
+just as happily as if mother had not gone away; but as to Iris,
+notwithstanding her brave words and her determination not to think of
+herself, the strawberries tasted like wood in her mouth. There was
+also a great lump in her throat, and a feeling of depression was
+making itself felt more and more, moment by moment.
+
+Apollo sat down beside his sister, and glanced from time to time into
+her face.
+
+"I cannot think why I don't _really_ care for the strawberries
+to-day," he said suddenly. "I--" His lips trembled. "Iris," he said,
+gazing harder than ever at his sister, "you have got such a queer look
+on your face.
+
+"Don't notice it, please, Apollo," answered Iris.
+
+"I wish you would cry," said the boy. "When Fortune came in and told
+us the--the dreadful news, we all cried and we kissed her, and she
+cried and she said she was sorry she had ever been unkind to us; but I
+remember, Iris, you did not shed one tear, and you--you always seemed
+to love mother the best of us all."
+
+"And I love her still the best," said Iris, in a soft voice; "but,
+Apollo, I have something else to do." And then she added, lowering her
+tones, "You know, I can't be sorry about mother herself. I can only be
+glad about her."
+
+"Glad about mother! Glad that she is dead!" said the boy.
+
+"Oh, I don't think about that part," said Iris. "She is not dead--not
+really. She is only away up above the stars and the blue sky, and she
+will never have any more suffering, and she will always be as happy as
+happy can be, and sometime or other, Apollo, I think she will be able
+to come back; and, if she can, I am sure she will. Yes, I am quite
+sure she will."
+
+"If she comes back we shall see her," said Apollo; "but she can't come
+back, Iris. Dead people can't come back."
+
+"Oh, please, don't call her that," said Iris, with a note of great
+pain in her voice.
+
+"But Fortune says that mother is dead, just like anybody else, and in
+a few days she will be put into the ground. Oh, Iris! I am frightened
+when I think of it. Mother was so lovely, and to think of their
+putting her into the ground in a box just like--like we put the poor
+innocent and the other creatures, and if that is the case she can
+never come back--never, never, never!"
+
+The little boy buried his black head of curling hair on his sister's
+knee, and gave vent to a great burst of tears.
+
+"But it is not true, Apollo," said Iris. "I mean in one way it is not
+true--I can't explain it, but I know. Let us forget all the dark,
+dreadful part--let us think of her, the real mother, the mother that
+looked at us out of her beautiful eyes; she is not dead, she has only
+gone away, and she wants us all to be good, so that we may join her
+some day. She called me after the rainbow, and after the messenger of
+the gods; and you, Apollo, after the bravest and the most beautiful
+boy that was supposed ever to live; and Diana, too, was called after a
+great Greek goddess; and Orion after the most lovely star in all the
+world. Oh, surely we four little children ought to try to be great,
+and good, and brave, if we are ever to meet our mother again!"
+
+"Well, it is all very puzzling," said Apollo, "and I can't understand
+things the way you can, Iris, and I have an awful ache in my throat. I
+am hungry, and yet I am not hungry. I love strawberries as a rule, but
+I hate them to-day. If only father would come and talk to us it would
+not be quite so bad; but Fortune said we were not to go to him, that
+he was shut up in his study, and that he was very unhappy. She said
+that he felt it all dreadfully about mother."
+
+"Iris," said Diana's voice at that moment, "we are not surely to have
+any lessons to-day?"
+
+She had come to the door of the summer-house, and was looking in.
+
+"Lessons?" said Iris. She put up her hand to her forehead in a dazed
+manner.
+
+"Yes; do be quick and say. Miss Stevenson is coming down the garden
+path. I do think that on the very day when mother has gone away it
+would be hard if we were to have lessons; and if what you say is true,
+Iris, and mother is happy, why, it does not seem fair; does it? We
+ought to have a whole holiday to-day, ought we not? Just as if it was
+a birthday, you know."
+
+"I think so too," said Orion, with a shout. "I don't think we need be
+bothered with old Stevie to-day." He raised his voice, and ran to meet
+her. "You are not to give us any lessons to-day, Stevie," he said. "It
+is a holiday, a great, _big_ holiday--it is a sort of birthday. We
+were all eating strawberries, for Iris said we were not to go back to
+the house."
+
+"Oh, my poor, dear, little boy!" said Miss Stevenson. She was a
+kind-hearted, although old-fashioned, governess. She bent down now and
+kissed Orion, and tried to take one of his very dirty little hands in
+hers.
+
+"My dear little children--" she began again.
+
+"Please, Miss Stevenson, don't pity us," said Iris.
+
+Miss Stevenson started.
+
+"My dear Iris," she said, "you don't realize what it means."
+
+"I do," answered Iris stoutly.
+
+"And I know what Iris means," said Apollo; "I know quite well. I feel
+miserable; I have got a pain in my throat, and I cannot eat my
+strawberries; but Iris says we ought not fret, for mother is much
+better off."
+
+"Then, if mother is much better off, we ought to have a holiday, same
+as if it was a birthday; ought we not, Miss Stevenson?" said Diana,
+puckering up her face and looking, with her keen black eyes, full at
+her governess.
+
+"You poor little innocents, what is to become of you all?" said Miss
+Stevenson.
+
+She entered the summer-house as she spoke, sank down on the nearest
+chair, and burst into tears. The four children surrounded her. They
+none of them felt inclined to cry at that moment. Orion, after staring
+at her for some little time, gave her a sharp little tap on her arm.
+
+"What are you crying about?" he said. "Don't you think you are rather
+stupid?"
+
+"You poor innocents!" said Miss Stevenson.
+
+"Please don't call us that," said Diana; "that is our name for the
+worms. Worms can't see, you know, and they are not to blame for being
+only worms, and sometimes they get trodden on; and Iris thought we
+might call them innocents, and we have always done so since she gave
+us leave; but we would rather not be called by _quite_ the same name."
+
+Miss Stevenson hastily dried her eyes.
+
+"You certainly are the most extraordinary little creatures," she said.
+"Don't you feel anything?"
+
+"It would be horrid selfish to be sorry," said Diana "Iris says that
+mother is awfully happy now."
+
+Miss Stevenson stared at the children as if they were bewitched.
+
+"And we are _not_ to have lessons, Stevie," said Orion; "that's
+settled, isn't it?"
+
+"Oh, my dear little child! I was not thinking of your lessons. It is
+your terrible--your terrible loss that fills my mind; that and your
+want of understanding. Iris, you are ten years old; I am surprised at
+you."
+
+Iris stood, looking very grave and silent, a step or two away.
+
+"Please, Miss Stevenson," she said, after a long pause, "don't try to
+understand us, for I am afraid it would be of no use. Mother talked to
+me yesterday, and I know quite what to do. Mother asked me to be a
+mother to the others, so I have no time to cry, nor to think of myself
+at all. If you will give us a holiday to-day, will you please go away
+and let us stay together, for I think I can manage the others if I am
+all alone with them?"
+
+Miss Stevenson rose hastily.
+
+"I thought you would all have been overwhelmed," she said. "I thought
+if ever children loved their mother you four did. Oh! how stunned I
+feel! Yes, I will certainly go--I don't profess to understand any of
+you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE ARRIVAL OF THE AUNT.
+
+
+About a week after the events related in the last chapter, on a
+certain lovely day in June, a hired fly might have been seen ascending
+the steep avenue to Delaney Manor. The fly had only one occupant--a
+round, roly-poly sort of little woman. She was dressed in deep
+mourning, and the windows of the fly being wide open, she constantly
+poked her head out, now to the right and now to the left, to look
+anxiously and excitedly around her.
+
+After gazing at the magnificent view, had anyone been there to look,
+they might have observed her shaking her head with great solemnity.
+She had round black eyes, and a rather dark-complexioned face, with a
+good deal of color in her cheeks. She was stoutly built, but the
+expression on her countenance was undoubtedly cheerful. Nothing
+signified gloom about her except her heavy mourning. Her eyes,
+although shrewd and full of common sense, were also kindly; her lips
+were very firm; there was a matter-of-fact expression about her whole
+appearance.
+
+"Now, why does David waste all those acres of splendid land?" she
+muttered angrily to herself. "The whole place, as far as I can see,
+seems to be laid out in grass. I know perfectly well that this is an
+agricultural country, and yet, when produce is so precious, what do I
+see but a lawn here and another lawn there, and not even cows feeding
+on them. Oh, yes! of course there is the park! The park is right
+enough, and no one wants to interfere with that. But why should all
+the land in that direction, and in that direction, and in that
+direction"--here she put out her head again and looked frantically
+about her--"why should all that land be devoted to mere ornament? It
+seems nothing more nor less than a tempting of Providence." Here she
+suddenly raised her voice. "Driver," she said, "have the goodness to
+poke up your horse, and to go a little faster. I happen to be in a
+hurry."
+
+"'Orse won't do it, ma'am," was the response. "Steep 'ill this. Can't
+go no faster."
+
+The little lady gave an indignant snort, and retired once more into
+the depths of the gloomy fly. Presently a bend in the avenue brought
+the old manor house into view. Once more she thrust out her head and
+examined it critically.
+
+"There it stands," she said to herself. "I was very happy at the Manor
+as a girl. I wonder if the old garden still exists. Twenty to one it
+has been done away with; there's no saying. Evangeline had such
+dreadfully queer ideas. Yes, there stands the house, and I do hope
+some remnants of the garden are in existence; but the thing above all
+others to consider now is, what kind these children are. Poor David,
+he was quite mad about Evangeline--not that I ever pretended to
+understand her. She was an American, and I hate the Americans; yes, I
+cordially hate them. Poor David, however, was devoted--oh, it was
+melancholy, melancholy! I suppose it was on account of Evangeline that
+all this splendid land has been allowed to lie fallow--not even cows,
+not even a stray sheep to eat all that magnificent grass. Wherever I
+turn I see flower-beds--flower-beds sloping away to east and west, as
+far almost as the eye can travel. And so there are four children. I
+have no doubt they are as queer, and old-fashioned, and untrained as
+possible. It would be like their mother to bring them up in that sort
+of style. Well, at least I am not the one to shirk my duty, and I
+certainly see it now staring me in the face. I am the wife of a
+hard-working vicar; I work hard myself, and I have five children of my
+own; but never mind, I am prepared to do my best for those poor
+deserted orphans. Ah, and here we are at last! That is a comfort."
+
+The rickety old fly drew up with a jerk opposite the big front
+entrance, and Mrs. Dolman got out. She was short in stature, but her
+business-like manner and attitude were unmistakable. As soon as ever
+she set foot on the ground she turned to the man.
+
+"Put the portmanteau down on the steps," she said. "You need not wait.
+What is your fare?"
+
+The fly-driver named a price, which she immediately disputed.
+
+"Nonsense!" she said. "Eight shillings for driving me from the station
+here? Why, it is only five miles."
+
+"It is nearly seven, ma'am, and all uphill. I really cannot do it for
+a penny less."
+
+"Then you are an impostor. I shall complain of you."
+
+At this moment one of the stately footmen threw open the hall door and
+stared at Mrs. Dolman.
+
+"Take my portmanteau in immediately, if you please," she said, "and
+pray tell me if your master is at home."
+
+"Yes, madam," was the grave reply. "But Mr. Delaney is not seeing
+company at present."
+
+"He will see me," said Mrs. Dolman. "Have the goodness to tell him
+that his sister has arrived, and please also see that my luggage is
+taken to my room--and oh, I say, wait one moment. What is the fare
+from Beaminster to Delaney Manor?"
+
+The grave-looking footman and the somewhat surly driver of the cab
+exchanged a quick glance. Immediately afterwards the footman named
+eight shillings in a voice of authority.
+
+"Preposterous!" said Mrs. Dolman, "but I suppose I must pay it, or,
+rather, you can pay it for me; I'll settle with you afterwards."
+
+"Am I to acquaint my master that you have come, madam?"
+
+"No; on second thoughts I should prefer to announce myself. Where did
+you say Mr. Delaney was?"
+
+"In his private study."
+
+"I know that room well. See that my luggage is taken to a bedroom, and
+pay the driver."
+
+Mrs. Dolman entered the old house briskly. It felt quiet, remarkably
+quiet, seeing that there was a large staff of servants and four
+vigorous, healthy children to occupy it.
+
+"Poor little orphans, I suppose they are dreadfully overcome," thought
+the good lady to herself. "Well, I am glad I have appeared on the
+scene. Poor David is just the sort of man who would forget everybody
+else when he is in a state of grief. Of course I know he was
+passionately attached to Evangeline, and she certainly was a charming,
+although _quite_ incapable, creature. I suppose she was what would be
+termed 'a man's woman.' Now, I have never any patience with them, and
+when I think of those acres of land and--but, dear me! sometimes a
+matter-of-fact, plain body like myself is useful in an emergency. The
+emergency has arrived with a vengeance, and I am determined to take
+the fortress by storm."
+
+The little lady trotted down one or two passages, then turned abruptly
+to her left, and knocked at a closed door. A voice said, "Come in."
+She opened the door and entered. A man was standing with his back to
+her in the deep embrasure of a mullioned window. His hands were
+clasped behind his back; he was looking fixedly out. The window was
+wide open.
+
+"There, David, there! I knew you would take it hard; but have the
+goodness to turn round and speak to me," said Mrs. Dolman.
+
+When he heard these unexpected words, the master of Delaney Manor
+turned with a visible start.
+
+"My dear Jane, what have you come for?" he exclaimed. He advanced to
+meet his sister, dismay evident on every line of his face.
+
+"I knew you would not welcome me, David. Oh, no prevarications! if you
+please. It is awful to think how many lies people tell in the cause of
+politeness. When I undertook this wearisome journey from the north of
+England, I knew I should not be welcome, but all the same I came; and,
+David, when I have had a little talk with you, and when you have
+unburdened your heart to me, you will feel your sorrow less."
+
+"I would rather not touch on that subject," said Mr. Delaney. He
+offered his sister a chair very quietly, and took another himself.
+
+Father, as Iris used to say, was not the least like mother. Mother
+had the gentlest, the sweetest, the most angelic face in the world;
+she never spoke loudly, and she seldom laughed; her voice was low and
+never was heard to rise to an angry tone. Her smile was like the
+sweetest sunshine, and wherever she appeared she brought an atmosphere
+of peace with her. But father, on the other hand, although an
+excellent and loving parent, was, when in good spirits, given to
+hearty laughter--given to loud, eager words, to strong exercise, both
+physical and mental. He was, as a rule, a very active man, seldom
+staying still in one place, but bustling here, there, and everywhere.
+He was fond of his children, and petted them a good deal; but the one
+whom he really worshiped was his gentle and loving wife. She led him,
+although he did not know it, by silken cords. She always knew exactly
+how to manage him, how to bring out his fine points. She never rubbed
+him the wrong way. He had a temper, and he knew it; but in his wife's
+presence it had never been exasperated. His sister, however, managed
+to set it on edge with the very first words she uttered.
+
+"Of course, I know you mean well, Jane," he said, "and I ought to be
+obliged to you for taking all this trouble. Now that you have come,
+you are welcome; but I must ask you to understand immediately that I
+will not have the subject of my"--he hesitated, and his under lip
+shook for a moment--"the subject of my trouble alluded to. And I will
+also add that I should have preferred your writing to me beforehand.
+This taking a man by storm is, you know of old, my dear Jane--not
+agreeable to me."
+
+"Precisely, David. I did not write, for the simple reason that I
+thought it likely you would have asked me not to come; and as it was
+necessary for me to appear on the scene, I determined, on this
+occasion, to take, as you express it, Delaney Manor by storm."
+
+"Very well, Jane; as you have done it you have done it, and there is
+no more to be said."
+
+Mr. Delaney rose from his seat as he spoke.
+
+"Would you not like to go to your room, and wash and change your
+dress?" he asked.
+
+"I cannot change my dress, for I have only brought one. I will go to
+my room presently. What hour do you dine?"
+
+"At half-past eight."
+
+"I have a few minutes still to talk to you, and I will not lose the
+opportunity. It will be necessary for me to return home the day after
+to-morrow."
+
+An expression of relief swept over Mr. Delaney's countenance.
+
+"I shall, therefore," continued Mrs. Dolman, taking no notice of this
+look, which she plainly saw, "have but little time at my disposal, and
+there is a great deal to be done. But before I proceed to anything
+else, may I ask you a question? How could you allow all that splendid
+land to lie waste?"
+
+"What land, Jane? What do you mean?"
+
+"Those acres of grass outside the house."
+
+"Are you alluding to the lawns?"
+
+"I don't know what name you choose to call all that grass, but I think
+it is a positive tempting of Providence to allow so much land to lie
+fallow. Why, you might grow potatoes or barley or oats, and make
+pounds and pounds a year. I know of old what the land round Delaney
+Manor can produce."
+
+"As the land happens to belong to me, perhaps I may be allowed to
+arrange it as pleases myself," said Mr. Delaney, in a haughty tone.
+
+His sister favored him with a long, reflective gaze.
+
+"He is just as obstinate as ever," she muttered to herself. "With that
+cleft in his chin, what else can be expected? There is no use
+bothering him on that point at present, and, as he won't allow me to
+talk of poor Evangeline,--who had, poor soul, as many faults as I ever
+saw packed into a human being,--there is nothing whatever for me to do
+but to look up those children."
+
+Mrs. Dolman rose from her seat as this thought came to her.
+
+"I am tired," she said. "From Yorkshire to Delaney Manor is a long
+journey, as perhaps you do _not_ remember, David; so I will seek my
+room after first having informed you what the object of my visit is."
+
+"I should be interested to know that, Jane," he answered, in a
+somewhat softened tone.
+
+"Well, seeing I am the only sister you have--"
+
+"But we never did pull well together," interrupted he.
+
+"We used to play in the same garden," she answered, and for the first
+time a really soft and affectionate look came into her face. "I hope
+to goodness, David, that the garden is not altered."
+
+"It is much the same as always, Jane. The children occupy it a good
+deal."
+
+"I am coming to the subject of the children. Of course, now that
+things are so much changed--"
+
+"I would rather not go into that," said Mr. Delaney.
+
+"Dear me, David, how touchy you are! Why will you not accept a patent
+fact? I have no wish to hurt your feelings, but I really must speak
+out plain common sense. I always was noted for my common sense, was I
+not? I don't believe, in the length and breadth of England, you will
+find better behaved children than my five. I have brought them up on a
+plan of my own, and now that I come here at great trouble, and I may
+also add expense, to try and help you in your--oh, of course, I must
+not say it--to try and help you when you want help, you fight shy of
+my slightest word. Well, the fact is this: I want you to take my
+advice, and to shut up Delaney Manor, or, better still, to let it well
+for the next two or three years, and go abroad yourself, letting me
+have the children!"
+
+"My dear Jane!"
+
+"Oh, I am your dear Jane now--now that you think I can help you. Well,
+David, I mean it, and what is more, the matter must be arranged. I
+must take the children back with me the day after to-morrow. Now I
+will go to my bedroom, as I am dead tired. Perhaps you will ring the
+bell and ask a servant to take me there."
+
+Mr. Delaney moved slowly across the room. He rang the electric bell,
+and a moment later the footman appeared in answer to his summons. He
+gave certain directions, and Mrs. Dolman left the room.
+
+The moment he found himself alone, the father of the children sank
+down on the nearest chair, put his hands on the table, pressed his
+face down on them, and uttered a bitter groan.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+RUB-A-DUB.
+
+
+"What am I to do, Evangeline?" said Mr. Delaney, a few moments later.
+He stood up as he spoke, shook himself, and gazed straight before him.
+It was exactly as if he were really speaking to the children's mother.
+Then again he buried his face in his big hands, and his strong frame
+shook. After a moment's pause he took up a photograph which stood
+near, and looked earnestly at the beautiful pictured face. The eyes,
+so full of truth and tenderness, seemed to answer him back. He started
+abruptly to his feet. "You always directed me, Evangeline," he said.
+"God only knows what I am to do now that you have left me. I am in
+some matters as weak as a reed, great, blustering fellow though I
+appear. And now that Jane has come--she always did bully me--now that
+she has come and wants to take matters into her own hands, oh,
+Evangeline! what is to be done? The fact is, I am not fit to manage
+this great house, nor the children, without you. The children are not
+like others; they will not stand the treatment which ordinary children
+receive. Oh, why has Jane, of all people, come? What am I to do?"
+
+He paced rapidly up and down his big study; clenching his hands at
+times, at times making use of a strong exclamation.
+
+The butler knocked at the door. "Dinner will be served in half an
+hour, sir," he said. "Am I to lay for two?"
+
+"Yes, Johnson. Mrs. Dolman, my sister, has arrived, and will dine with
+me. Have places laid for two."
+
+The man withdrew, and Mr. Delaney, stepping out through the open
+window, looked across the lawns which his sister had so strongly
+disapproved of.
+
+"Jane was always the one to poke her finger into every pie," he said
+half aloud. "Certainly this place is distasteful to me now, and there
+is--upon my word, there is something in her suggestion. But to deliver
+over those four children to her, and to take them away from the
+garden, and the house, and the memory of their mother--oh! it cannot
+be thought of for a moment; and yet, to shift the responsibility while
+my heart is so sore would be an untold relief."
+
+A little voice in the distance was heard shouting eagerly, and a small
+child, very dirty about the hands and face, came trotting up to Mr.
+Delaney. It was Diana. She was sobbing as well as shouting, and was
+holding something tenderly wrapped up in her pocket handkerchief.
+
+"What is the matter with you, Di?" said her father. He lifted her into
+his arms. "Why, little woman, what can be the matter? and what have
+you got in your handkerchief?"
+
+"It's Rub-a-Dub, and he is deaded," answered Diana. She unfolded the
+handkerchief carefully and slowly, and showed her father a small
+piebald mouse, quite dead, and with a shriveled appearance. "He is as
+dead as he can be," repeated Diana. "Look at him. His little claws are
+blue, and oh! his little nose, and he cannot see; he is stone dead,
+father."
+
+"Well, you shall go into Beaminster to-morrow and buy another mouse,"
+said Mr. Delaney.
+
+Diana gazed at him with grave, wondering black eyes.
+
+"That would not be Rub-a-Dub," she said; then she buried her little,
+fat face on his shoulder and sobs shook her frame.
+
+"Evangeline would have known exactly what to say to the child,"
+muttered the father, in a fit of despair. "Come along, little one," he
+said. "What can't be cured must be endured, you know. Now, take my
+hand and I'll race you into the house."
+
+The child gave a wan little smile; but the thought of the mouse lay
+heavy against her heart.
+
+"May I go back to the garden first?" she said. "I want to put
+Rub-a-Dub into the dead-house."
+
+"The dead-house, Diana? What do you mean?"
+
+"It is the house where we keep the poor innocents, and all the other
+creatures what get deaded," said Diana. "We keep them there until Iris
+has settled whether they are to have a pwivate or a public funeral.
+Iris does not know yet about Rub-a-Dub. He was quite well this
+morning. I don't know what he could have died of. Perhaps, father, if
+you look at him you will be able to tell me."
+
+"Well, let me have a peep," said the man, his mustache twitching as he
+spoke.
+
+Diana once again unfolded her small handkerchief, in the center of
+which lay the much shriveled-up mouse.
+
+"The _darling_!" said the little girl tenderly. "I loved Rub-a-Dub so
+much; I love him still. I do hope Iris will think him 'portant enough
+for a public funeral."
+
+"Look here," said Mr. Delaney, interested in spite of himself, and
+forgetting all about the dinner which would be ready in a few minutes;
+"I'll come right along with you to the dead-house; but I did not know,
+Di, that you kept an awful place of that sort in the garden."
+
+"Tisn't awful," said Diana. "We has to keep a dead-house when we find
+dead things. We keep all the dead 'uns we find there. There aren't as
+many as usual to-day--only a couple of butterflies and two or three
+beetles, and a poor crushed spider. And oh! I forgot the toad that we
+found this morning. It was awful hurt and Apollo had to kill it; he
+had to stamp on it and kill it; and he did not like it a bit. Iris
+can't kill things, nor can I, nor can Orion, so we always get Apollo
+to kill the things that are half dead--to put them out of their
+misery, you know, father."
+
+"You seem to be a very wise little girl; but I am sure this cannot be
+at all wholesome work," said the father, looking more bewildered and
+puzzled than ever.
+
+Diana gazed gravely up at him. She did not know anything about the
+work being wholesome or the reverse. The dead creatures had to be
+properly treated, and had to be buried either privately or
+publicly--that was essential--nothing else mattered at all to her.
+
+"As Rub-a-Dub is such a dear darlin', I should not be s'prised if Iris
+did have a public funeral," she commented.
+
+"But what is the difference, Di? Tell me," said her father.
+
+"Oh, father! you are ig'rant. At a pwivate funeral the poor dead 'un
+is just sewn up in dock leaves and stuck into a hole in the cemetery."
+
+"The cemetery! Good Heavens, child! do you keep a cemetery in the
+garden?"
+
+"Indeed we does, father. We have a very large one now, and heaps and
+heaps of gravestones. Apollo writes the insipcron. He is quite
+bothered sometimes. He says the horrid work is give to him,--carving
+the names on the stones and killing the half-dead 'uns,--but course he
+has to do it 'cos Iris says so. Course we all obey Iris. When it is a
+pwivate funeral, the dead 'un is put into the ground and covered up,
+and it don't have a gravestone; then of course, by and by, it is
+forgot. You underland; don't you, father?"
+
+"Bless me if I do," said Mr. Delaney, in a puzzled tone.
+
+"But if it is a public funeral," continued Diana, strutting boldly
+forward now, and throwing back her head in quite a martial attitude,
+"why, then it's grand. There is a box just like a coffin, and cotton
+wool--we steal the cotton wool most times. We know where Fortune has
+got a lot of it put away. Iris does not think it quite right to steal,
+but the rest of us don't mind. And we have banners, and Orion plays
+the Jew's harp, and I beat the drum, and Iris sings, and Apollo digs
+the grave, and the dead 'un is put into the ground, and we all cry, or
+pretend to cry. Sometimes I do squeeze out a tiny tear, but I'm so
+incited I can't always manage it, although I'm sure I'll cry when
+Rub-a-Dub is put into the ground. Then afterwards there is a
+tombstone, and Iris thinks of the insipcron. I spects we'll have a
+beautiful insipcron for poor Rub-a-Dub, 'cos we all loved him so
+much."
+
+"Well, all this is very interesting, of course," said Mr. Delaney.
+"But now we must be quick, because your Aunt Jane has come."
+
+"Who's her?" asked Diana.
+
+"A very good lady indeed--your aunt."
+
+"What's an aunt?"
+
+"A lady whom you ought to love very much."
+
+"Ought I? I never love people I ought to love," said Diana firmly.
+"Please, father, this is the dead-house. You can come right in if you
+like, father, and see the dead 'uns; they are all lying on this shelf.
+Most of them is to be buried pwivate, 'cos they are not our own pets,
+you know; but Rub-a-Dub is sure to have a public funeral, and an
+insipcron, and all the rest."
+
+Mr. Delaney followed Diana into the small shed which the children
+called the dead-house. He gazed solemnly at the shelf which she
+indicated, and on which lay the several dead 'uns.
+
+"Put your mouse down now," he said, "and come along back with me to
+the house at once. You ought to have been in bed long ago."
+
+Diana laid the mouse sorrowfully down in the midst of its dead
+brethren, shut the door of the dead-house, and followed her father up
+the garden path.
+
+"It's a most beautiful night," she said, after a pause. "It's going to
+be a starful night; isn't it, father?"
+
+"Starful?" said Mr. Delaney.
+
+"Yes; and when it is a starful night Orion can't sleep well, 'cos he
+is a star hisself; isn't he, father?"
+
+"Good gracious, child, no! He is a little boy!"
+
+"No, no, father! You are awfu' mistook. Mother called him a star. I'll
+show you him up in the sky if it really comes to be a starful night.
+May I, father?"
+
+"Some time, my darling; but now you must hurry in, for I have to get
+ready for dinner. Kiss me, Di. Good-night. God bless you, little one!"
+
+"B'ess you too, father," said Diana. "I love 'oo awfu' well."
+
+She raised her rosebud lips, fixed her black eyes on her parent's
+face, kissed him solemnly, and trotted away into the house. When she
+got close to it, a great sob came up from her little chest. She
+thought again of the dead Rub-a-Dub, but then the chance of his having
+a public funeral consoled her. She longed to find Iris.
+
+Full of this thought, her little heart beating more quickly than
+usual, she rushed up the front stairs, and was turning down the
+passage which led to the nursery, when she was confronted by a short,
+stout woman dressed in black.
+
+"Now, who is this little girl, I wonder?" said a high-pitched, cheery
+voice.
+
+"It is not your little girl; and I am in a hurry, please," said Diana,
+who could be very rude when she liked. She did not wish to be
+interrupted now; she wanted to find Iris to tell her of the sad fate
+of Rub-a-Dub.
+
+"Highty-tighty!" exclaimed the little lady, "that is no way to speak
+to grown-up people. I expect, too, you are one of my little nieces.
+Come here at once and say, 'How do you do?'"
+
+"Are you the aunt?" asked Diana solemnly.
+
+"The aunt!" replied Mrs. Dolman. "I am your aunt, my dear. What is
+your name?"
+
+"Diana. Please, aunt, don't clutch hold of my hand; I want to find
+Iris."
+
+"Of all the ridiculous names," muttered Mrs. Dolman under her breath.
+"Well, child, I am inclined to keep you for a moment, as I want to
+talk to you. Do you know, you rude little girl, that I have come a
+long way to see you. Of course, my little girl, I know you are sad at
+present; but you must try to get over your great sorrow."
+
+"Do you know, then, about Rub-a-Dub?" said Diana, her whole face
+changing, and a look of keen interest coming into it.
+
+If Aunt--whatever her other name was--should turn out to be interested
+in Rub-a-Dub, and sorry for his untimely end, why, then, Diana felt
+there was a possibility of her squeezing a little corner for her in
+her hearts of hearts. But Mrs. Dolman's next words disturbed the
+pleasant illusion.
+
+"You are a poor little orphan, my child," she said. "Your poor, dear
+mother's death must be a terrible sorrow to you; but, believe me, you
+will get over it after a time."
+
+"I has quite got over it awready," answered Diana, in a cheerful
+voice. "It would be awfu' selfish to be sorry 'bout mother, 'cos
+mother is not suffering any more pain, you know. I am very _glad_
+'bout mother. I am going to her some day. Please don't squeeze my hand
+like that. Good-by, aunt; I weally can't stay another moment."
+
+She trotted off, and Mrs. Dolman gazed after her with a petrified
+expression of horror on her round face.
+
+"Well," she said to herself, "if ever! And the poor mother was devoted
+to them all, and she is scarcely a week in her grave, and yet that
+mite dares to say she has got over it. What nonsense she talked, and
+what a queer name she has. Now, our family names are sensible and
+suited for the rising generation. We have had our Elizabeths and our
+Anns, and our Lucys and our Marys, and, of course, there is Jane, my
+name. All these are what I call good old respectable Delaney names;
+but Diana and Iris make me sick. And I believe, if report tells true,
+that there are some still more extraordinary names in the family. What
+a rude, dirty little child! I did not like her manners at all, and how
+neglected she looked. I shall follow her; it is my manifest duty to
+see to these children at once. Oh! I shall have difficulty in breaking
+them in, but broken in they must be!"
+
+Accordingly Mrs. Dolman turned down the passage where Diana's fat legs
+disappeared. The eager but gentle flow of voices directed her steps,
+and presently she opened the door of a large room and looked in.
+
+She found herself unexpectedly on the threshold of the day-nursery. It
+was a beautiful room, facing due west; the last rays of the evening
+sun were shining in at the open windows; some children were collected
+in a corner of the room. Diana had gone on her knees beside a girl a
+little older and slighter than herself. Her plump elbows were resting
+on the girl's knee, her round hands were pressed to her rounder
+cheeks, and her black eyes were fixed upon the girl's face.
+
+The elder girl, very quiet and calm, had one hand on Diana's shoulder,
+her other arm was thrown round a handsome little boy, not unlike Diana
+in appearance, while an older boy sat on a hassock at her feet.
+
+"I will listen to you presently, Diana," said Iris. "Now, I must
+finish my story."
+
+"Yes, please go on, Iris," said Orion; "it's all about me, and I'm
+'mensely inte'sted."
+
+"Very well, Orion. The King of Chios did not want his daughter to
+marry you."
+
+"Good gracious!" muttered Mrs. Dolman in the doorway.
+
+"So he let you fall sound asleep," continued Iris, in her calm voice.
+None of the children had yet seen the stout personage on the threshold
+of the room. "He let you fall very sound asleep, having given you some
+strong wine."
+
+"What next?" thought Mrs. Dolman.
+
+"And when you were very sound asleep indeed, he put out both your
+eyes. When you awoke you found yourself quite blind, and did not know
+what to do or where to go. Suddenly, in the midst of your misery, you
+heard the sound of a blacksmith's forge. Guided by the noise, you
+reached the place and begged the blacksmith to climb on your
+shoulders, and so lend you his eyes to guide you. The blacksmith was
+willing to do it, and seated himself on your shoulders. Then you said,
+'Guide me to the place where I can see the first sunbeam that rises in
+the east over the sea,' and--"
+
+"Yes," said Orion, whose breath was coming quickly, "yes; and what
+happened to me then?"
+
+"Nonsense, little boy! Don't you listen to another word of that
+folly," said a very strong, determined voice.
+
+All the children turned abruptly.
+
+"Oh, _she_ has come bothering!" said Diana.
+
+But the other three had started to their feet, and a flush rose into
+Iris' pale face.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+AUNT IS HER NAME.
+
+
+"Aunt is her name," said Diana, "and I don't think much of her."
+
+Mrs. Dolman strode rapidly into the nursery.
+
+"Yes, children," she said, "I am your aunt--your Aunt Jane Dolman,
+your father's only sister. Circumstances prevented my coming to see
+your father and mother for several years; but now that God has seen
+fit to give you this terrible affliction, and has taken your dear
+mother to Himself, I have arrived, determined to act a mother's part
+to you. I do not take the least notice of what that rude little girl
+says. When I have had her for a short time under my own control, she
+will know better. Now, one of you children, please have the politeness
+to offer me a chair, and then you can come up one by one and kiss me."
+
+Iris was so much petrified that she could not stir. Diana and Orion
+came close together, and Diana flung her stout little arm round
+Orion's fat neck. Apollo, however, sprang forward and placed a chair
+for his aunt.
+
+"Will you sit here, please, Aunt Jane Dolman?" he said.
+
+"You need not say Aunt Jane Dolman," replied the lady; "that is a very
+stiff way of speaking. Say Aunt Jane. You can kiss me, little boy."
+
+Apollo raised his lips and bestowed a very chaste salute upon Aunt
+Jane's fat cheek.
+
+"What is your name?" said Aunt Jane, taking one of his small, hard
+hands in hers.
+
+"Apollo," he replied, flinging his head back.
+
+"Apollo! Heaven preserve us! Why, that is the name of one of the
+heathen deities--positively impious. What could my poor sister-in-law
+and your father have been thinking of? At one time I considered your
+father a man of sense."
+
+Apollo flushed a beautiful rosy red.
+
+"Please, Aunt Jane," he said, "I like my name very much indeed, and I
+would rather you did not say a word against it, because mother gave it
+to me."
+
+"It is a name with a beautiful meaning," said Iris, coming forward at
+last. "How are you Aunt Jane? My name is Iris, and this is Diana, and
+this is Orion--both Diana and Orion are very good children indeed,
+and"--here her lips quivered, her earnest, brown eyes were fixed with
+great solicitude on her aunt's face--"I ought to know," she said, "for
+I am a mother to the others, and, I think, please, Aunt Jane, Orion
+and Diana should be going to bed now."
+
+"I have not the slightest objection, my dear. I simply wished to see
+you children. I will say good-night now; we can have a further talk
+to-morrow. But first, before I go, let me repeat over your names, or
+rather you--Apollo, I think you call yourself--had better say them for
+me."
+
+"That is Iris," said Apollo, pointing to his elder sister, "and I am
+Apollo, and that is Diana, and that is Orion."
+
+"All four names taken from the heathen mythology," replied Aunt Jane,
+"and I, the wife of a good honest clergyman of the Church of England,
+have to listen to this nonsense. I declare it may be inconvenient--it
+may frighten the parishioners. I must think it well over. I have, of
+course, heard before of girls being called Diana, and also of girls
+being called Iris--but Apollo and Orion! My poor children, I am sorry
+for you; you are burdened for life. Good-night, good-night! You will
+see me again to-morrow."
+
+The great dinner-gong sounded through the house, and Aunt Jane sailed
+away from the day-nursery.
+
+"Fortune, who is she?" asked Iris, raising a pair of almost frightened
+eyes to the old nurse's face.
+
+"She is your father's sister, my darling," said Fortune. "She has come
+on a visit, and uninvited, Peter tells me. I doubt if my master is
+pleased to see her. She will most likely go away in a day or two, so
+don't you fret, Miss Iris, love. Now, come along, Master Orion, and
+let me undress you. It is very late, and you ought to be in your
+little bed."
+
+"I'm Orion," said the little boy, "and I'm stone blind." He began to
+strut up and down the nursery with his eyes tightly shut.
+
+"Apollo, please, may I get on your shoulder for a bit, and will you
+lead me to that place where the first sunbeam rises in the east over
+the sea?"
+
+"Come," said Fortune, in what Diana would call a "temperish" tone, "we
+can have no more of that ridiculous story-telling to-night. Miss Iris,
+you'll ask them to be good, won't you?"
+
+"Yes. Children, do be good," said Iris, in her earnest voice.
+
+Diana trotted up to her sister and took her hand.
+
+"I has something most 'portant to tell you," she said, in a low
+whisper. "It's an awfu' sorrow, but you ought to know."
+
+"What is it, Di?"
+
+"Rub-a-Dub has got deaded."
+
+"Rub-a-Dub?"
+
+"Yes; it is quite true. I found him stark dead and stiff. I has put
+him in the dead-house."
+
+Iris said nothing.
+
+"And he is to have a public funeral, isn't he?" said Diana, "and a
+beautiful insipcron. Do say he is, and let us have the funeral
+to-morrow."
+
+"I am awfully sorry," said Iris, then; "I did love Rub-a-Dub. Yes, Di;
+I'll think it over. We can meet after breakfast in the dead-house and
+settle what to do."
+
+"There are to be a lot of funerals to-morrow--I'm so glad," said
+Diana, with a chuckle.
+
+She followed Orion into the night-nursery. He was still walking with
+his eyes tightly shut and went bang up against his bath, a good
+portion of which he spilt on the floor. This put both Fortune and the
+under-nurse, Susan, into a temper, and they shook him and made him
+cry, whereupon Diana cried in concert, and poor Iris felt a great
+weight resting on her heart.
+
+"It is awfully difficult to be a mother to them all," she thought.
+"The usual kind of things don't seem to please them. Apollo, what is
+the matter? What are you thinking of?"
+
+"I'm only wishing that I might be the real Apollo," said the boy, "and
+that I might get quite far away from here. Things are different here
+now that mother has gone, Iris. I don't like Aunt Jane Dolman a bit."
+
+"Oh, well, she is our aunt, so I suppose it is wrong not to like her,"
+answered Iris.
+
+"I can't help it," replied Apollo. "I have a feeling that she means
+to make mischief. Why did she come here without being asked? Iris,
+shall we go down to dessert to-night, or not?"
+
+"I would much rather not," answered Iris.
+
+"But father likes us to go. It is the only time in the day when he
+really sees us. I think, perhaps, we ought to get dressed and be ready
+to go down."
+
+"I will if you think so, Apollo; but I am very tired and sleepy."
+
+"Well, I really do. We must not shirk things if we are to be a bit
+what mother wants us to be; and now that Aunt Jane has come, poor
+father may want us worse than ever."
+
+"I never thought of that," replied Iris. "I'll run and get dressed at
+once, Apollo."
+
+She flew away into a tiny little room of her own, which opened into
+the night-nursery.
+
+"Susan," she called out, "will you please help me to put on my
+after-dinner frock?"
+
+"You have only a white dress to wear this evening, miss; your new
+black one has not come home yet."
+
+"A white one will be all right," replied Iris.
+
+"Oh, dear me, miss! and your poor mother only a week dead."
+
+"I wish, Susan, you would not talk of mother as dead," answered Iris.
+"I don't think of her like that a bit. She is in Heaven; she has gone
+up the golden stairs, and she is quite well and ever so happy, and she
+won't mind my wearing a white dress, more particular if I want to
+comfort father. Please help me on with it and then brush out my hair."
+
+Iris had lovely hair--it was of a deep, rich chestnut, and it curled
+and curled, and waved and waved in rich profusion down her back. When
+Susan had brushed it, and taken the tangles out, it shone like
+burnished gold. Her pretty white frock was speedily put on, and she
+ran out of her little room to join Apollo, who, in his black velvet
+suit, looked very picturesque and handsome.
+
+Not long afterwards the little pair, taking each other's hands, ran
+down the broad, white marble stairs and entered the big dining room.
+They looked almost lost in the distance when they first appeared, for
+the table at which Mr. Delaney and Mrs. Dolman sat was far away in a
+bay window at the other end of the stately apartment.
+
+"Hullo, children! so there you are!" called their father's voice to
+them. He had never been better pleased to see them in all his life,
+and the note of welcome in his tones found an answering echo in Iris'
+loving little heart.
+
+They both tripped eagerly up the room and placed themselves one on
+each side of him, while Iris slipped her hand into his.
+
+"Well, my chicks, I am right glad to see you," he said.
+
+"Perhaps, David, you will remember how disgracefully late it is," said
+Mrs. Dolman. "Children, I must frankly say that I am _not_ pleased to
+see you. What are you doing up at this hour?"
+
+"We have come to keep father company," said Apollo, fixing his
+flashing black eyes, with a distinctly adverse expression in them, on
+his aunt's face.
+
+"In my day," continued Aunt Jane complacently, helping herself to
+strawberries, "the motto was: 'Little boys should be seen and not
+heard.' To-night, of course, I make allowances; but things will be
+different presently. David, you surely are not giving those children
+wine?"
+
+"Oh, they generally have a little sip each from my port," said Mr.
+Delaney; "it does not do them any harm."
+
+"You may inculcate a taste," said Mrs. Dolman, in a very solemn voice.
+"In consequence of that little sip, which appears so innocent, those
+children may grow up drunkards. Early impressions! Well, all I can say
+is this--when they come to live at the Rectory they will have to be
+teetotalers. In my house we are all teetotalers. My husband and I both
+think that we cannot have proper influence on the parishioners unless
+we do ourselves what we urge them to do."
+
+Iris and Apollo both listened to these strange words with fast-beating
+hearts. What did they mean? Mrs. Dolman spoke of when they were to
+live at the Rectory. What rectory? She spoke of a time when they were
+to live with her. Oh, no; she must be mistaken. Nothing so perfectly
+awful could be going to happen.
+
+Nevertheless, Iris could scarcely touch her wine, and she pushed aside
+the tempting macaroon which Mr. Delaney had slipped on to her plate.
+She found it impossible to eat.
+
+Apollo, after a moment's hesitation, attacked his wine and swallowed
+his biscuit manfully; but even he had not his usual appetite.
+
+After a short pause, Iris gave a gentle sigh and put both her arms
+round her father's neck.
+
+"I am tired, father; I should like to go to bed."
+
+"And I want to go too," said Apollo.
+
+"Those are the first sensible remarks I have heard from either of the
+children," said Mrs. Dolman. "I should think they are dead tired for
+want of sleep, poor little mites. Good-night, both of you. When you
+come to live with me--ah! I see you are astonished; but we will talk
+of that pleasant little scheme to-morrow. Good-night to you both."
+
+"Good-night, Aunt Jane," said Iris.
+
+"Good-night, Aunt Jane," said Apollo.
+
+"Good-night to you both, my pets," said Mr. Delaney.
+
+Iris gave her father a silent hug, Apollo kissed him on the
+forehead--a moment later the little pair left the room. As soon as
+ever they had done so, Mrs. Dolman turned to her brother.
+
+"Now then, David," she said, "you have got to listen to me; we may
+just as well settle this matter out of hand. I must return home on
+Thursday--and this is Tuesday evening. It will be impossible for you
+to stay on here with those four children and no one responsible to
+look after them. You appear half dead with grief and depression, and
+you want a thorough change. The place is going to rack and ruin. Your
+rent-roll, how much is it?"
+
+"About fifteen thousand pounds a year--quite enough to keep me out of
+anxiety," said Mr. Delaney, with a grim smile.
+
+"It ought to be twenty thousand a year--in our father's time it was
+quite that. No doubt you let your farms too cheap; and so much grass
+round the house is disgraceful. Now, if I had the management--"
+
+"But you see you have not, Jane," said Mr. Delaney. "The property
+happens to belong to me."
+
+"That is true, and I have a great deal too much on my mind to worry
+myself about Delaney Manor; but, of course, it is the old place, and
+you are my only brother, and I am anxious to help you in your great
+affliction. When you married you broke off almost all connection with
+me, but now--now I am willing to overlook the past. Do you, or do you
+not, intend those children to run wild any longer? Even though they
+are called after heathen idols they are flesh and blood, and it is to
+be hoped that some religious influence may be brought to bear on them.
+At the present moment, I conclude that they have none whatever."
+
+"I never saw better children," said Mr. Delaney; "their mother brought
+them up as no one else could. In my opinion, they are nearly perfect."
+
+"You talk nonsense of that kind because you are blinded by your
+fatherly affection. Now, let me assure you, in full confidence, that I
+never came across more neglected and more utterly absurd little
+creatures. Good-looking they are--you are a fine-looking man yourself,
+and your wife was certainly pretty--the children take after you both.
+I have nothing to say against their appearance; but they talk utter
+gibberish; and as to that eldest little girl, if she is not given
+something sensible to occupy her I cannot answer for the consequence.
+My dear David, I don't want to interfere with your estate."
+
+"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
+letter seems a Providence; you will act upon it."
+
+"It certainly does," said the man; "but, Jane, you will be good to the
+children--tender, I mean. Their mother has always been very gentle to
+them."
+
+"You need not question me as to how I will treat them. I will bring
+them up as I would my own. I will do my utmost to rear them in the
+fear of God. David, this clinches the matter. Write to Mr. Seymour by
+this night's post."
+
+Mr. Delaney promised to do so, and soon afterwards Mrs. Dolman,
+feeling that she had done a very good and excellent work, retired, in
+a thoroughly happy frame of mind, to her bedroom.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+THE POOR DEAD 'UNS.
+
+
+Mr. Delaney's bedroom faced east, and the following morning, at a very
+early hour, he began to have most unpleasant dreams. He thought a
+hobgoblin was seated on his chest, and several brownies were pulling
+him where he did not wish to go, and finally that a gnome of enormous
+dimensions was dragging him into a dark cavern, where he could never
+again behold the daylight. At last, in great perturbation, he opened
+his dazed eyes. The sight he saw seemed at first to be a continuation
+of his dream, but after a moment or two he discovered that the person
+who had become possessed of his chest was a small boy of the name of
+Orion, that a little black-eyed girl called Diana had comfortably
+ensconced herself on his knees, and that Iris and Apollo were seated
+one at each side of his pillow. The four children had all climbed up
+on to the big bedstead, and were gazing attentively at him.
+
+"He is opening his eyes," said Orion, "he'll be all right after a
+minute or two. Don't hurry up, father; we can wait."
+
+"We can wait quite well, father," said Diana; "and it's very comf'able
+on your knees; they is so flat."
+
+"We are awfully sorry to disturb you, father," said Iris.
+
+"But we can't help it, because it's most solemnly important," said
+Apollo.
+
+"So it seems," remarked Mr. Delaney, when he could at last find a
+voice. "You have all subjected me to a terrible dream. I am really
+glad that I have awakened and find that the hobgoblins, and gnomes,
+and brownies are no less little people than my own four children. But
+why am I to be disturbed at such a very early hour?"
+
+"If you like, father," said Diana, "we'll pull up all the blinds; then
+the hot, blazin' sun will come in, and you'll see that it's not early
+at all; it's late."
+
+Mr. Delaney happened to glance at a clock which stood on the
+mantelpiece exactly facing the big bed.
+
+"I read on the face of that clock," he said, "that the hour is
+half-past five. Now, what have you four little children to do, sitting
+on my bed at half-past five in the morning?"
+
+When Mr. Delaney said this he shook himself slightly and upset Diana's
+balance, and made Orion choke with silent laughter. Iris and Apollo
+gazed at him gravely.
+
+"We all made up our minds to do it," said Iris. "We have come to ask
+you to make a promise, father."
+
+"A promise, my dear children! But you might have waited until the
+usual hour for getting up. What are you going to wring from me at this
+inclement moment?"
+
+"I don't exactly know what inclement moment means," said Iris, "but I
+do know, and so does Apollo--"
+
+"And so do I know all about it," shouted Diana. "You see, father,"
+continued the little girl, who spoke rather more than any of the other
+children, "we has to think of the poor innocents, and the birds and
+the mice, and the green frogs, and our puppy, and our pug dog, and
+our--and our--" Here she fairly stammered in her excitement.
+
+"Has a sudden illness attacked that large family?" said Mr. Delaney.
+"Please, children, explain yourselves, for if you are not sleepy, I
+am."
+
+"Yes, father," said Iris, "we can explain ourselves quite easily. The
+thing is this--we don't want to go away."
+
+"To go away? My dear children, what do you mean?" But as Mr. Delaney
+spoke he had a very uncomfortable memory of a letter which he had
+posted with his own hands on the previous evening.
+
+"Yes," said Apollo; "we don't want to go away with her."
+
+"And we don't wish for no aunts about the place," said Diana,
+clenching her little fist, and letting her big, black eyes flash.
+
+"Now I begin to see daylight," said Mr. Delaney. "So you don't like
+poor Aunt Jane?"
+
+"Guess we don't," said Orion. "She comed in last night and she made an
+awful fuss, and she didn't like me 'cos I'm Orion, and 'cos I'm a
+giant, and 'cos sometimes I has got no eyes. Guess she's afraid of me.
+I thought her a silly sort of a body."
+
+"She's an aunt, and that's enough," said Diana. "I don't like no
+aunts; they are silly people. I want her to go."
+
+"Apollo and I brought the two younger children," continued Iris,
+"because we thought it best for us all to come. It is not Aunt Jane
+being here that is so dreadful to me, and so very, very terrible to
+Apollo," she continued. "It's what she said, father, that we--we were
+to go away, away from the house and the garden--the garden where
+mother used to be, and the house where the angel came to fetch mother
+away--and we are to live with her. She spoke, father, as if it was
+settled; but it is not true, is it? Tell us, father, that it is not
+true."
+
+"My poor little children!" said the father. His own ruddy and sunburnt
+face turned absolutely pale; there was a look in his eyes which Diana
+could not in the least understand, nor could Orion, and which even
+Apollo only slightly fathomed; but one glance told Iris the truth.
+
+"When I am away you are to be a mother to the others," seemed at that
+moment to echo her mother's own voice in her ear. She gulped down a
+great sob in her throat, and stretching herself by her father's side
+she put one soft arm round his neck.
+
+"Never mind if it is _really_ settled," she said. "I will try hard to
+bear it."
+
+"You are about the bravest little darling in the world," said Mr.
+Delaney.
+
+"What are you talking about, Iris?" cried Apollo, clutching his sister
+by her long hair as she spoke. "You say that you will try and bear it,
+and that father is not to mind? But father must mind. If I go to Aunt
+Jane Dolman's, why--why, it will kill me." And the most beautiful of
+all the heathen gods cast such a glance of scorn at his parent at that
+moment that Mr. Delaney absolutely quailed.
+
+"For goodness' sake, Apollo, don't eat me up," he said. "The fact is
+this, children; I may as well have the whole thing out. Aunt Jane came
+last night and took me by surprise. I have been very lonely lately,
+and you know, you poor little mites, you cannot be left to the care of
+Fortune. She is a very good soul, but you want more than her to look
+after you, and then Miss Stevenson--I never did think her up to much."
+
+"Father," said Apollo, "you have no right to abuse our spiritual
+pastors and masters."
+
+Notwithstanding his heathenish name, it will be seen by this remark
+that some of his time was occupied learning the church catechism.
+
+"I stand corrected, my son," said Mr. Delaney, "or, rather, at the
+present moment, I lie corrected. Well, children, the truth must
+out--Aunt Jane took me by surprise. She promises she will look after
+you and be a mother to you."
+
+"We don't want no other mother, now that our own mother is gone,
+except Iris," said Apollo. "We won't have Aunt Jane for a mother."
+
+"She is a howid old thing, and I hate aunts," said Diana.
+
+"Well, children, I am very sorry for you, but it is too late to do
+anything now. The whole thing is arranged. I hope you will try to be
+good, and also to be happy with Aunt Jane. You won't find her half bad
+when you get to know her better, and of course I won't be very long
+away, and when I come back again--"
+
+"Please don't say any more, father," interrupted Iris. She slipped off
+the bed and stood very pale and still, looking at her father with eyes
+which, notwithstanding all her efforts, were full of reproach.
+
+"Come, children," she said to the others, "let poor father have his
+sleep out. It is quite early, father, and--and we understand now."
+
+"Do say you are not angry with me, you dear little kids. I would not
+hurt you for the whole world."
+
+"Of course we are not angry, father," said Iris. She bent slowly
+forward and kissed her father on his forehead. "Go to sleep, father;
+we are sorry we woke you so early."
+
+"Yes, father, go to s'eep," echoed Diana. "I underland all 'bout it.
+You won't have no hobgoblins now to dweam about, for I has got off
+your knees. They was lovely and flat, and I didn't mind sitting on
+them one bit."
+
+"All the same, Diana, I am obliged to you for getting off," said Mr.
+Delaney, "for I was beginning to get quite a terrible cramp, to say
+nothing of my sensations at having this giant Orion planting himself
+on my chest. I will have a long talk with you all, darlings, in the
+course of the day, and I do hope you won't be very unhappy with your
+Aunt Jane Dolman."
+
+"We'll be mis'ble, but it can't be helped," said Diana. "I never did
+like aunts, and I'm never going to, what's more. Come 'long now,
+sildrens. It's a gweat nuisance getting up so early, particular when
+father can't help hisself. Can you, father? Go to s'eep now, father.
+Come 'long this minute, back to bed, sildrens."
+
+Diana looked really worthy of her distinguished name as she strode
+down the passage and returned to the night-nursery. She and Orion
+slipped into their respective little cots and lay down without waking
+either Fortune or Susan, who slept in beds at the opposite side of the
+room. Iris and Apollo also returned to their beds, and presently
+Apollo dropped asleep, for, though he had an alarming temper, his fits
+of passion never lasted long. But Iris did not close her bright brown
+eyes again that morning. She lay awake, full of troubled
+thoughts--thoughts far too old for her tender years.
+
+It was one of Fortune's fads never on any occasion to awaken a
+sleeping child, and as the other children slept rather longer than
+usual after their early waking, breakfast was in consequence full half
+an hour late in the day-nursery that morning. At last, however, it was
+finished. No special lessons had been attended to since mother had
+gone away to the angels, and the children, snatching up their hats,
+rushed off as fast as possible to the garden. When they got there they
+all four breathed freely. This at least was their own domain--their
+fairyland, their country of adventure. From here they could travel to
+goodness only knew where--sometimes to the stars with bright Apollo
+and brave Orion--sometimes to happy hunting fields with Diana, the
+goddess of the chase, and sometimes they might even visit the rainbow,
+with sweet Iris as their companion.
+
+There never were happier children than these four in that lovely,
+lovely beyond words, garden. When the children went into it, it seemed
+as if an additional ray of sunshine had come out to fill all the happy
+world with light and love and beauty. The bees hummed more
+industriously than ever, the flowers opened their sweet eyes and gazed
+at the children, the animals came round them in a group.
+
+On this special morning, however, Diana's dear little face looked very
+grave and full of business.
+
+"It's most 'citing," she said. "'Fore we does anything else we must
+'tend to the funerals--there is such a lot of dead 'uns to bury this
+morning. Come 'long to the dead-house at once, Iris."
+
+"I must smell the Scotch roses first," answered Iris.
+
+"You can do that afterwards, can't you? There's poor Rub-a-Dub. We has
+to 'cide whether he is to have a public or a pwivate funeral, or
+whether he is just to be sewn up in dock leaves, and put into the
+gwound p'omisc's."
+
+Diana had a great facility for taking up long words, which she always
+used in the most matter-of-fact style, not in the least caring how she
+pronounced them.
+
+The other children could not help laughing at her now, and the four
+hurried off as fast as they possibly could to the dead-house.
+
+This unpleasantly named abode was in reality a pretty little shed in
+one corner of the old garden. It contained a door with lock and key, a
+nice little window, and everything fitted up for the keeping of tools
+and carpenters' implements. Long ago, however, the children decided
+that here the dead animals of all sorts and species were to be kept
+until the solemn moment of interment.
+
+Iris looked just as grave as the others when she unlocked the door of
+the dead-house now, and they all entered. The dead 'uns were decently
+laid out on a shelf, just in front of the public view. There was a
+dead bee, and two butterflies; there were two dead worms and a dead
+toad; also three or four beetles in different stages of decomposition,
+and a terribly crushed spider--and solemnly lying in the midst of his
+dead brethren lay Rub-a-Dub, the precious and dearly loved piebald
+mouse.
+
+"They look beautiful, poor darlin's," said Diana; "they will most fill
+up the cemetery. Now please, Iris, which is to have a public funeral?"
+
+"Of course Rub-a-Dub must," answered Iris. "As to the others--"
+
+"Don't you think that poor toad, Iris?" said Diana, wrinkling up her
+brows, and gazing anxiously at her sister. "The toad seems to me to be
+rather big to have only a pwivate funeral. We could scarcely get dock
+leaves enough."
+
+"We must try," answered Iris; "the toad must be buried privately with
+the others. We always make it a rule--don't you remember, Di--only to
+give public funerals to our own special pets."
+
+"All wight," answered Diana. She was very easily brought round to
+accept Iris' view. In her heart of hearts she considered Iris' verdict
+like the laws of the Medes and Persians--something which could not
+possibly be disputed.
+
+"Run, Orion!" she said; "be quick, and fetch as many dock leaves as
+possible. I will thread a needle so as to sew up the poor dead 'uns in
+their coffins. We must get through the pwivate funerals as quick as
+possible this morning, and then we'll be weady for poor Rub-a-Dub."
+
+"Rub-a-Dub is to be buried exactly at eleven o'clock," said Iris.
+
+"We'll all wear mourning, course?" asked Diana.
+
+"Yes; black bows."
+
+"And are the dogs and the other animals to wear mourning?"
+
+"Black bows," repeated Iris.
+
+"That is most lovely and 'citing," said Diana.
+
+Orion left the dead-house, and presently returned with a great pile of
+dock leaves. Then the children sat down on the floor and began to sew
+coffins for the different dead 'uns. They were accustomed to the work
+and did it expeditiously and well. When all the poor dead 'uns were
+supplied with coffins they were carried in a tray across the garden
+to the far-famed cemetery. Here they were laid in that part of the
+ground apportioned to private funerals. Apollo made small holes with
+his spade, and each dead 'un in his small coffin was returned to
+mother earth. The ground was immediately covered over, and Apollo
+trampled on it with his feet. He did this on the present occasion with
+right good will. "I'll be rather glad when the funerals are over," he
+said, looking at Iris as he spoke, "for I want to get on with my ship.
+I have got hold of some canvas the gardener brought me from town, and
+I really believe I may be able to make a funnel and a place for
+boiling water. You would like to see my ship when it is afloat; would
+you not, Iris?"
+
+"Yes; very much indeed," answered Iris.
+
+"I call ships stupid," said Diana. "I don't see no use in 'em. Now, do
+let us hurry back. Poor Rub-a-Dub will be so lonely."
+
+"It's you who is silly now," said Orion. "You know Rub-a-Dub can't
+feel; don't you, Di?"
+
+"I know nothing 'bout it," said Diana. "I want to hurry back to get
+his beautiful public funeral weady. Now, look here, 'Rion; will you go
+into the house to steal the cotton wool, or shall I?"
+
+"What is that I hear?" said a voice which seemed to come from right
+over the children's heads.
+
+They all looked up in alarm, to see Aunt Jane Dolman and their father
+standing close by. Mr. Delaney wore an amused, and Aunt Jane a scared
+expression.
+
+"What were you saying, little girl?" she continued, taking Diana by
+her arm and giving her a slight shake; "that you wished to _steal_
+something?"
+
+"Yes; some cotton wool," said Diana; "it's most 'portant; it's for a
+public funeral."
+
+Mrs. Dolman turned her round black eyes on her brother. Horror was
+expressed in each movement of her face.
+
+"My dear Jane," he said, _sotto voce_, "there are several things which
+these children do which will astonish you very much. Don't you think
+you had better give up the scheme?"
+
+"Not I, David," she replied. "The more I see of the poor neglected
+mites the more I long to rescue them from evident destruction."
+
+He shook his head and looked with some pity at Iris.
+
+"Shall Orion go to steal the cotton wool?" repeated Diana, who looked
+as if it was impossible for anyone in this world to terrify her in the
+very least.
+
+"If it must be stolen, and if you ask me," said Mr. Delaney, "perhaps
+Orion may as well be the thief as anyone else. In the old times of the
+heathen deities I believe they did now and then stoop to that small
+crime."
+
+"David, it is appalling to hear you speak," said Mrs. Dolman. "Orion,
+I hate to pronounce your name, but listen to me, little boy. I forbid
+you to go if you are bent on theft."
+
+"But I must go," said Orion. "Poor Rub-a-Dub must be buried, and I
+must have a box for his coffin and cotton wool to lay him in."
+
+"See here, Orion," said the father; "where do you get the cotton
+wool?"
+
+"We gen'ly get it from Fortune's box in the night-nursery," replied
+Orion.
+
+"And you steal it?"
+
+"Oh, yes; she would make _such_ a fuss if we asked her for some. We
+always steal it for public funerals."
+
+"Well, on this occasion, and to spare your aunt's feelings, tell
+Fortune that I desire her to give you some.
+
+"Now, Jane," continued Mr. Delaney, "as you are here, and as I am
+here, we may both of us as well witness this ceremony. The children
+are fond of doing all honor to their pets, even after the supreme
+moment of dissolution. Shall we witness this public funeral?"
+
+Mrs. Dolman looked wonderfully inclined to say "No," but as her object
+now was to humor her brother as far as possible, she agreed very
+unwillingly to wait.
+
+Accordingly he and she began to pace up and down the lovely garden,
+and soon, in the interest which the sight of the unforgotten
+playground of her youth excited within her, her brow cleared, and she
+became pleasant and even talkative. The two were in the midst of a
+very interesting conversation, and were pacing up and down not far
+from the summer-house, when Orion's clear voice was heard. "The public
+funeral is going to begin," he shouted, "so you had best come along if
+you want to see it. If you don't, Diana and me, and Apollo and
+Iris--why, we don't care."
+
+"Oh, we'll come, you rude little body," said his father, laughing and
+chuckling as he spoke. "You mark my words, Jane," he continued, "you
+will have a handful with those children."
+
+"Oh, I'll manage them," said Mrs. Dolman. "I have not lived my
+thirty-five years for nothing; they certainly need managing, poor
+little spoilt creatures."
+
+They both hurried to the cemetery, where Apollo was standing, having
+dug a grave nearly a foot deep, and large enough to hold a square
+cardboard box. He stood leaning on his spade now, his hat pushed off,
+his handsome little face slightly flushed with the exercise, his eyes
+full of a sort of gloomy defiance. But now the funeral procession was
+coming on apace. Orion's mouth was much puffed out because he was
+blowing vigorously on his Jew's harp, Diana followed him beating a
+little drum, and Iris, with long black ribbons fastened to her flowing
+chestnut locks, was walking behind, carrying the tiny coffin. Iris, as
+she walked, rang an old dinner bell in a very impressive manner, and
+also sang a little dirge to the accompaniment of the bell and the two
+other children's music. These were the words Iris sang:
+
+    "Ding-a-dong, Rub-a-Dub's dead;
+        Good-by, Rub-a-Dub.
+    Sleep well in your little bed;
+        Good-by, Rub-a-Dub.
+
+    "We'll put a stone at your head and your feet;
+        Good-by, Rub-a-Dub.
+    And you shall sleep very sound and sweet;
+        Good-by, Rub-a-Dub.
+    And you'll never know fear any more;
+        Little dear;
+    Good-by, Rub-a-Dub."
+
+Iris was a poet on occasions, and she had made up these impressive
+lines in great haste while the other children were arranging minor
+details of the funeral.
+
+As the mourning party approached the open grave, Apollo came forward
+and dropped on his knees. The coffin was supplied with strings of
+white satin ribbon, and was lowered with great solemnity into the
+grave. Then the four mourners stood over it and each of them sang the
+last words of Iris' poem:
+
+    "And you'll never know fear any more,
+        Little dear;
+    Good-by, Rub-a-Dub."
+
+The moment this was over flowers were strewn upon the box, and Apollo
+with great vigor began to shovel in the earth.
+
+"Make a nice high mound," said Diana; "let it look as like a weal
+gwave as possible." Then she turned eagerly to her sister. "When are
+we to see about making the tombstone for the head and the feet?" she
+asked.
+
+"We'll talk it over this evening," answered Iris.
+
+It may here be noted that none of the four mourners took the slightest
+notice of Mr. Delaney or of Mrs. Dolman. To them it was as if these
+two grown-up spectators did not exist--they were all lost in their own
+intensely important world.
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Dolman, as she turned away with her brother, "of all
+the heathenish and wicked nonsense that I was ever permitted to
+witness, this beats everything. It is a right good thing--yes, I will
+say it frankly, David--that you are going abroad, and that your
+benighted children are handed over to me. When you come back in a year
+or two--I assure you, my dear brother, I do not wish to hurry you--but
+when you come back in a few years you will see, please Providence,
+very different children waiting to welcome you."
+
+"Well, Jane," said David Delaney, "I have arranged to give the
+children to you, and I hope to Heaven I am doing right; but do not
+spoil them whatever you do, for to me and to their sainted mother
+they were ever the sweetest little quartette that breathed the breath
+of life." Mr. Delaney's eyes filled with sudden tears as he said these
+words. "Good-by, Rub-a-Dub," he whispered as he left the garden. "Yes,
+there are many good-bys in the air just now."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+BUT ANN COULD NOT HELP LETTING OUT NOW AND THEN.
+
+
+The Rectory at Super-Ashton was a large, sunny, cheerful house. It was
+filled with every modern convenience, and possessed plenty of rooms
+papered with light, bright-looking papers, and painted also in
+cheerful colors. The windows were large and let in every scrap of
+sunshine; the passages and hall and stairs were broad and roomy; the
+nurseries and the children's rooms were models of comfort; the
+servants were all well behaved and thoroughly accustomed to their
+duties; the meals were punctual to a moment; in fact, nothing was left
+to chance at Super-Ashton Rectory.
+
+Mrs. Dolman was the life and soul of this extremely orderly English
+home. She was one of the most active little women in the world. She
+invariably got up, summer and winter, soon after six o'clock, and
+might be seen bustling about the house, and bustling about the garden,
+and bustling about the parish from that moment until she retired to
+rest again, somewhere between ten and eleven at night. She was never
+exactly cross, but she was very determined. She had strict ideas, and
+made everyone in the parish not only respect her and look up to her,
+but live up to her rule of life. She was, as a matter of fact, thought
+a great deal more of by the parishioners than her husband, the
+Reverend William Dolman, and the real Rector of Super-Ashton.
+
+Mr. Dolman was a very large man, tall in stature and broad. He was
+also fat and loosely built. He had a kindly face and a good-humored
+way of talking. He preached very fair sermons on Sundays, and attended
+to his duties, but without any of the enthusiasm which his wife
+displayed.
+
+When Mrs. Dolman wrote to her husband to say that she was returning
+home with the four little Delaneys, it caused considerable excitement
+at the breakfast table. Five little hearts beat considerably faster
+than usual; but so great were the order and regularity of the
+household that the five little faces to which the hearts belonged
+remained apparently impassive.
+
+Miss Ramsay, the governess, was presiding at the head of the table.
+The Dolman girls were neatly dressed in print frocks with white
+pinafores; the boys wore holland blouses and knickerbockers. The boys
+happened to be the two youngest of the family, and none of the
+children had yet gone to school. The name and ages of the five were as
+follows: First came Lucy, aged twelve; then Mary, aged ten; then Ann,
+aged nine; then Philip and Conrad, aged respectively seven and a half
+and six. The faces of the whole five bore a curious resemblance to
+both father and mother, the eldest girl having the round, black eyes
+of her mother, and the large, somewhat irregular features of the
+father. Mary resembled Lucy in being fat and largely built, but her
+eyes were blue instead of black; while little Ann had a small face,
+with gray eyes and rather sensitive lips. The complexions of the three
+were fair, and their good looks were rather above the average. They
+were proper, neat-looking little girls, and, notwithstanding their
+inward excitement, they ate their breakfast tidily, and took good care
+not to express any emotion before Miss Ramsay or their good-natured
+father.
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Dolman, looking at them, and pushing his spectacles up
+on his forehead, "yes, that is the news. Your mother returns to-night,
+and the four Delaneys with her. Let me see what else she says." He
+replaced his spectacles on his nose and looked over his wife's letter
+again. "These are the very words," he said; "Observe, Miss Ramsay,
+that I read from the letter. 'I return by the train which reaches
+Super-Ashton at six o'clock, and will bring the four Delaneys with
+me.' Four, you see, Lucy; that is the number. But mamma does not
+mention the sex of the children. How many boys or how many girls? I
+really am quite out of date with regard to your cousins, my love."
+
+"But I know all about them, papa," burst from Ann's eager lips.
+
+"You forget your French, Ann," said Miss Ramsay, laying her hand on
+the little girl's arm. "You will be punished if you speak English
+again at meals."
+
+Ann colored and dropped her eyes. She began to eat her bread and
+butter hastily; she longed beyond words to tell the others the
+knowledge she had secretly acquired about her cousins the Delaneys.
+
+"'Please send the wagonette to the station,'" continued Mr. Dolman,
+reading his wife's letter, and holding it close to his eyes,
+"'and--yes, the cart for the luggage, as the children'--um, um, um,
+that part is private, my dears."
+
+Mr. Dolman dropped his spectacles and nodded at the eager little group
+round the table.
+
+"Well," he continued, "I am glad mamma is coming home. I have really
+been quite bothered by the parishioners since she went away. There is
+always a vast deal of work left undone when mamma is absent, eh,
+children? eh, Miss Ramsay?"
+
+"I agree with you, Mr. Dolman," said Miss Ramsay. "Mrs. Dolman does
+not spare herself; she will have her reward some day."
+
+"God grant it!" said Mr. Dolman, with a heavy sigh. "She certainly
+will need rest whenever she does leave this world, for I never did
+come across such an active woman."
+
+He left the room, hitching up his huge shoulders as he did so, and
+slammed the door noisily behind him.
+
+"Papa would not do that if mamma were here," whispered Philip to Ann.
+
+Ann said "Hush!" in a frightened tone, and then Miss Ramsay folded her
+hands as an intimation to the children that the meal was at an end,
+and that one of them was to say grace.
+
+Immediately after breakfast they went upstairs to the schoolroom, and
+lessons began, just as if no four little Delaneys were to arrive to
+turn everything topsy-turvy that evening.
+
+Lessons proceeded without any interruption until twelve o'clock. Then
+the three little girls retired to the neat bedroom which they shared
+together, and put on their sun-bonnets, their white capes, and their
+washing-gloves, and came back again to Miss Ramsay, equipped for their
+walk. The boys, with straw hats sticking very far back on their heads,
+were also waiting Miss Ramsay's pleasure in the hall downstairs. The
+children and the governess went out walking solemnly two and two, Miss
+Ramsay and Conrad in front, Lucy and Mary following, with Ann and
+Philip behind.
+
+It was a hot day; but Miss Ramsay never excused the morning walk on
+the dusty highroads. The children came in very much flushed and tired
+at one o'clock for dinner. They assembled again in the big, cool
+dining room and ate their roast mutton and peas and new potatoes, and
+rice pudding and stewed fruit with the propriety of children who have
+been thoroughly well brought up.
+
+At dinner French was again the only language allowed to be spoken. In
+consequence there was a sad dearth of any conversation at that dinner
+table.
+
+After dinner Mr. Dolman told Miss Ramsay that he had given orders
+about the wagonette, and he supposed Simpson knew about the sleeping
+arrangements, as he was given to understand that she had received a
+letter from Mrs. Dolman.
+
+"I have spoken to Simpson," replied Miss Ramsay, dropping her eyes as
+she made the remark, "and she fully understands what is expected of
+her. The two girls are to have small rooms to themselves, and so is
+the eldest boy, but the youngest will sleep in the nursery with Philip
+and Conrad. Those are Mrs. Dolman's directions."
+
+"Quite right, quite right," said Mr. Dolman. "Anything Mrs. Dolman
+wishes, of course. Miss Ramsay, I shall not be home to tea this
+evening. I have to go to visit a sick parishioner at the other end of
+the parish. Good-by, Lucy; good-by, the rest of you children. I hope
+to see you all before bedtime; if not--"
+
+"But, father," burst from Ann, "the new children will be here about
+six."
+
+"They cannot arrive before half-past six, my dear," replied Mr.
+Dolman.
+
+"Ann, you have again spoken English," said Miss Ramsay; "I shall be
+forced to punish you. You will have to stay in after the others this
+afternoon, and learn ten lines of your French poetry."
+
+Poor little Ann colored and her lips trembled. She really felt
+dreadfully excited, and it was terrible to have to bottle up all her
+thoughts during the long, hot day.
+
+Immediately after dinner the children went up to the schoolroom, where
+they lay down on the floor for half an hour to learn their lessons.
+
+At three o'clock the ordinary lessons began again, and went on without
+interruption until five, when there was tea. After tea the children
+were supposed to have the rest of the day to do what they liked in.
+But on this occasion, Ann was kept in the schoolroom to learn her
+French poetry as best she could. The ten lines were difficult, and the
+little girl felt sleepy, cross, and dissatisfied. Soon her small,
+curly head fell upon her plump arms, and sleep took possession of her
+little soul.
+
+Miss Ramsay came in and found her in a state of heavy slumber.
+
+"Ann!" she cried; "Ann!"
+
+Little Ann raised herself with a start.
+
+"Oh, please, Miss Ramsay, won't you excuse the French poetry to-day,"
+she cried; "I am so--"
+
+"So what, Ann? I am surprised at you. What can be the matter?"
+
+"I am _so_ excited about the little Delaneys," answered Ann. "They are
+coming so soon, and they are my own first cousins--I seem to see them
+all the day--they come between me and--and my poetry. Please, Miss
+Ramsay, if you'll only allow me I'll get up early to-morrow morning
+and learn it perfectly. Do say I need not finish it this
+afternoon--do, please."
+
+Miss Ramsay was astonished and annoyed at this rebellion on the part
+of Ann.
+
+"You surprise me," she said. "You know that lessons have to be done
+during lesson hours, and that rules are not to be broken. You know
+what your mother would say if she heard you talking English at meals.
+Twice to-day you broke through that rule. The first time I pardoned
+you--the second time it was unpardonable. Now, my dear, apply yourself
+to your task--get it well over, and you will doubtless be ready to
+welcome your cousins when they arrive."
+
+Miss Ramsay left the room. Ann shed a few tears, and then, seeing
+there was no help for it, applied herself with all her might and main
+to learning her appointed task. She got her poetry by heart after a
+fashion, and, hastily replacing the book in the bookcase, ran out of
+the schoolroom. She saw Lucy and Mary pacing up and down the terrace
+in front of the house. They were in clean white frocks, with sashes
+round their waists, and their hair was very trimly brushed and curled
+over their heads. Their faces shone from soap and water, and even at
+that distance Ann could perceive that their hands were painfully,
+terribly clean. In her heart of hearts Ann hated clean hands; they
+meant so much that was unpleasant--they meant that there must be no
+grubbing in the garden, no searching for dear little weeds and small
+flowers, and all kinds of delicious, unexpected things in mother
+earth. In her heart of hearts Ann had a spark of originality of her
+own, but it had little chance of flourishing under the treatment so
+carefully pursued at Super-Ashton.
+
+Philip and Conrad might also be seen on the terrace in their clean
+linen blouses and fresh knickerbockers; their hands were also
+carefully washed, their hair brushed back from their faces, the faces
+themselves shining from soap and water.
+
+"Oh, dear! there's no help for it," thought little Ann, "I must go
+into the nursery and let Simpson pull me about. How she will scrub me
+and tug at my hair, and put on such a horrid starched dress, and it's
+so hot to-night! Well, if I hurry I may be in time to tell Philip what
+I know about their names. Oh, how delicious it will be! He'll be so
+excited. Yes, I'll be as quick as possible."
+
+Ann ran down the long passage which led from the schoolroom to the
+nursery, opened the door, and approached a prim old servant with a
+somewhat cross face, who was busily engaged mending stockings.
+
+"Please, Simpson, here I am. Will you dress me?" said Ann, panting as
+she spoke.
+
+Simpson laid down her work with deliberation.
+
+"Now, I wonder, Miss Ann," she said, "why I am to be put about for
+you. I have just finished dressing all the other children. Why didn't
+you come with the others? There, miss, you must just dress yourself,
+for I can't and won't be worried; these stockings must be finished
+before the mistress comes home."
+
+"All right," answered Ann, in a cheerful tone. "I can wash myself
+beautifully. May I go into the night-nursery, please, Simpson, and do
+my best?"
+
+"Yes, my dear. You'll find a white frock hanging in the wardrobe. I'll
+fasten it for you after you have washed yourself and combed out your
+hair. Now, do be quick. I would help you willingly, Miss Ann, only I
+really have not a minute to spare; Master Philip and Master Conrad are
+dreadful with their socks, and when the mistress comes with that fresh
+family, goodness knows when I shall have a moment to see to your
+clothes again."
+
+Ann dressed herself, and ran back to Simpson.
+
+"Simpson," she said, as that good woman was fastening the hooks and
+eyes at the back of her frock, "I know it is wrong to be so much
+excited, but I am. My heart beats awfully fast at the thought of their
+coming."
+
+"Well, Miss Ann, it's more than my heart does. And now, miss, if
+you'll take a word of advice from me, you'll keep your feelin's to
+yourself, as far as your ma is concerned. Your ma don't wish any of
+you to give way to excitement. She wants you to grow up steady,
+well-conducted young ladies."
+
+"I hate being a well-conducted young lady," burst from little Ann.
+
+"Oh, dear me, miss! it's dreadful to hear you talk so unproper. Now
+stand still and don't fidget."
+
+The frock was fastened, and Ann ran off to join her brothers and
+sisters on the terrace.
+
+Lucy and Mary were little girls after their mother's own heart. They
+never questioned her wishes, they never rebelled against her rules,
+they were as good and well-behaved as any two little English maids of
+the respective ages of twelve and ten could be. Now, as little Ann
+approached, they looked at her as if they thought her quite beneath
+their notice.
+
+"Oh, do go away, Ann!" said Lucy. "Mary and I are talking secrets, and
+we don't want you."
+
+"You are always talking secrets," said Ann. "It's horrid unfair to
+me."
+
+"We have got to talk things over. We can't confide in you; you're the
+youngest. Please don't be disagreeable now. We are having a most
+important talk. Please run away at once."
+
+Ann looked beseeching, but then, all of a sudden, her eyes fell upon
+Philip. She turned, ran up to him, clutched him by the arm, and pulled
+him away from Conrad.
+
+"Phil," she said, "I want to have you all to myself. I have something
+terribly exciting to say."
+
+Philip looked from Conrad to Ann.
+
+"But you are always getting into hot water, Ann," he replied, "and Con
+and I were talking about our fishes. We think if we are very careful
+with our pocket-money we may have enough to buy some gold and silver
+fish in the holidays."
+
+"Yes, yes," answered Ann impetuously; "buy any kind of fish you like.
+Only, Con, like a dear, good boy, please go and walk at the other end
+of the terrace for five minutes. I must speak to someone or I'll
+burst."
+
+"How awfully vulgar you are, Ann!" said Lucy, who happened to pass by,
+with Mary leaning on her arm, at that moment.
+
+But Philip felt flattered at Ann's evident anxiety to be alone with
+him.
+
+"Go and do as you are told, Conrad," he said, in lofty tones; "go to
+the other end of the terrace at once."
+
+"It's rather hard on me," said Conrad. "I like having secrets as well
+as anybody else; the air is full of secrets to-day--why shouldn't I
+have some?"
+
+"I'll have a secret with you by and by," said Ann, "if you'll only go
+away now."
+
+The little boy looked at her, saw she was in earnest, and obeyed
+somewhat unwillingly.
+
+"Now then, Ann," said Philip, "speak out; be as quick as ever you
+can."
+
+"Philip," said Ann, in a solemn voice, "don't you want to know all
+about the children who are coming to-night?"
+
+"Is that what the secret is about?" said Philip in disgust. "Do you
+know, Ann, what I heard Miss Ramsay say to Simpson to-day. She said
+that the new children would be awful bothers, and that _she_ for one
+does not know if she is going to stay, and Simpson said she was sure
+that she would give notice too. Miss Ramsay said it was an awful shame
+bringing four children to the house, and Simpson threw up her hands.
+You know how she looks when she throws up her hands. And she said,
+'Them's my sentiments, Miss Ramsay.' Do you know what she meant by
+'Them's my sentiments,' Ann, 'cos I don't? I never heard such funny
+words before. Did you, Ann?"
+
+"No," said Ann; "but you ought not to have listened, Phil."
+
+"Oh, I often listen!" replied Philip calmly. "I get to know all kinds
+of funny things that way, and they turn out no end useful. I know lots
+of things about Miss Ramsay, and since I just let her know that I did,
+she is not half so hard on me. That's how I find listening useful."
+
+"Well, it is not right," said Ann, "but I have no time to argue with
+you now, Phil; I want to talk about the children. Whatever Simpson
+says, and whatever Miss Ramsay says, I am delighted that they are
+coming. I think it will be fun. In my heart, you know, Phil, I love
+fun, and I want to be able to talk English sometimes, and Phil, would,
+_would_ you like to know their names?"
+
+"Their names?" said Philip. "I suppose they have names, although I
+never thought about them."
+
+"Well, of course they have, and I'll tell you what they are. They have
+got lovely names; once I heard mother say that the whole four of them
+were called after heathen idols. Isn't it awful and exciting to be
+called after a heathen idol? Oh, Phil! they have such lovely names!"
+
+Philip was not much interested in heathen idols, but Ann's excited
+face and her bright blue eyes did strike him as out of the common.
+
+"Well, you are in a state," he said. "What creatures girls are! You'll
+catch it when mother comes home. You know she never can stand anybody
+all jumpy, and jerky, and quivery, like you are now. Well, what are
+the names? Out with them and get them over."
+
+"Iris is the name of the eldest girl," said Ann. "Then comes
+Apollo--he is a boy."
+
+"I'll never be able to get hold of that name," said Philip. "Apollo!
+how queer."
+
+"But it is not queer, really," said Ann, delighted at having roused
+his real interest at last. "Of course, Apollo is very well known
+indeed. He was a sort of beautiful god long ago."
+
+"But this boy is not a god--horrid little beggar," said Philip. "Well,
+what are the names of the others?"
+
+"There is a girl called Diana."
+
+"Diana," repeated Philip. "There's nothing in that name. That name is
+in the Bible. Miss Ramsay read the whole story aloud to us last
+Sunday when the beastly rain kept dropping and dropping all day long.
+'Great is Diana of the Ephesians.' I rather like the sound, but
+there's nothing at all in a name of that sort, Ann."
+
+"Well, I didn't say there was," answered Ann. "I only think it awfully
+pretty."
+
+"I don't think much of it for an ordinary girl. Well, now, what is the
+other name? I'll call Conrad back, if you are not quick."
+
+"I'll tell it to you. Look here, Phil, I bet you never heard a name
+like it."
+
+"You bet?" said Philip. "Oh, if mamma only heard you!"
+
+"For goodness' sake, don't tell her," said Ann. "I can't help letting
+out sometimes, and it does relieve me so. The name of the other boy is
+Orion, and he is called after a cluster of stars. I do know that much.
+And oh, Phil! Phil! Phil! they are coming! they are coming!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE STRAW TOO MUCH.
+
+
+The crunching of wheels was heard distinctly on the gravel, and the
+next moment the wagonette swept into view. The horses drew up with a
+nourish at the front door of the pretty Rectory, and the five little
+Dolmans rushed forward.
+
+"Stand back, children, and allow your cousins to get comfortably out
+of the carriage," called out Mrs. Dolman. "No excitement, I beg, from
+any of you--I have had quite enough of that already. Stand quietly
+just where you are. Lucy, where is Miss Ramsay?"
+
+"Up in her room, I think, mamma. Shall I call her?"
+
+"Not at present, although she ought to have been here. Now, Iris, get
+out quietly--quietly, my dear. Apollo, give me your hand, you come
+next; now, Diana--easy, little girl, easy--you will fall, if you jump
+like that."
+
+"I think nothing of a little easy hop like that, aunt," replied Diana.
+She sprang from the carriage, disdaining the use of the steps. When
+she found herself on the gravel sweep she stood very firmly on her two
+fat legs and looked her five cousins all over.
+
+"You aren't none of you much to boast," she said; "I'd wather have the
+animals." Then she turned her back and gazed around her at the view.
+
+Meanwhile, Orion was being helped out of the carriage. He was also
+very sturdy and independent, and felt half inclined to follow Diana's
+spirited example; but Mrs. Dolman would not permit this. She took the
+youngest of the little heathen gods firmly into her arms and deposited
+him on the gravel.
+
+"There you are, little boy," she said, giving him a slight shake as
+she did so, "and I do trust you will behave yourself."
+
+Orion ran up to Diana and took hold of her hand. Diana took no notice
+of him, but continued to admire the view.
+
+Mrs. Dolman's face was quite red. She was very tired after her long
+journey, and she had found the little Delaneys not the easiest
+traveling companions in the world. It is true that Iris had been as
+good as possible, but between whiles she had cried a good deal, and
+her sad face, and somewhat reproachful expression, seemed to hurt Mrs.
+Dolman even more than the really obstreperous, and at times violent,
+behavior of her brothers and sister; for the fact is, the other three
+little Delaneys had not yet got the slightest idea into their heads
+that they were bound to obey Mrs. Dolman. Far from this; a sudden and
+extreme naughtiness had taken possession of their unruly little
+hearts. Even Iris' gentle words had no effect on them. They hated Aunt
+Jane; considering her, in their heart of hearts, extremely cruel and
+unworthy of affection. Had she not parted them at one blow from their
+father, their home, their lovely garden, even from poor Fortune, who
+was better than nobody, and, above all, from their darling, precious
+pets? They had none of them been broken-hearted children when their
+mother died, but they all, even Iris, felt broken-hearted now. But
+this fact did not prevent their being extremely naughty and
+rebellious, and when Diana felt Orion's hand clutching hers, she
+whispered to him in an indignant voice:
+
+"Come 'long, 'Rion, let's have a wun--my legs is so stiff; and, Orion,
+I has got the box, and we can open it when we is away by our own two
+selves."
+
+"What are you talking about, little children?" questioned Mary Dolman.
+"You mean to run away all by yourselves. But you must do nothing of
+the sort. This is not the hour for running about in the open air.
+There is supper ready for us all in the dining room, but I think mamma
+would like you first to go upstairs and have your faces and hands
+washed. If you will follow me, I'll show you where to go."
+
+"Thank you, Mary," said Mrs. Dolman, who had overheard her daughter.
+"Ann, my dear, what are you staring at me for? Go and help your
+cousins. Now, you four children, follow Lucy and Ann to your rooms,
+where my servant, Simpson, will attend upon you. Go, children, at
+once. If there is any naughtiness, remember I shall have to punish you
+severely."
+
+"What do she mean by that?" said Diana, fixing her eyes on Mary's
+face. "I never did like aunts. Is she your aunt?"
+
+"No; she is my mother," said Mary, "and you must not speak in that
+tone of mamma."
+
+"I'll speak in any tone I p'ease," replied Diana. "Ise not going to be
+fwightened. But what do she mean by punish? Who will she punish?"
+
+"She will punish you," replied Mary. "Were you never punished?"
+
+"Never. I don't know what it means. Is it nasty?"
+
+"Oh, isn't it!" said Philip, who came up at that moment. "What a lark
+it will be to see you punished, Diana. I wonder when your first time
+will come? I expect rather soon. You had best obey mamma, I can tell
+you, and papa too; if you don't, you'll just catch it hot."
+
+"Boo!" replied Diana, "you is a silly boy." Then she turned to Mary.
+"I is awfu' tired and s'eepy," she said. "I'd like to go stwaight to
+bed."
+
+"You must have supper first. Did you not hear mamma say so? Now, come
+along with me."
+
+Mary held out her hand, which Diana, after a momentary hesitation,
+condescended to take.
+
+Meanwhile, Ann had gone up to Iris.
+
+"Would you not like me to show you your room, cousin?" she said; "and
+please, I want to say how very glad I am that you have come."
+
+A faint tinge of delicate color came into Iris' sweet little face at
+these words--they were the first attempt at a real welcome she had
+received. She held out her hand to Ann without a word, and the
+Delaneys and Dolmans entered the cheerful Rectory in a body. The four
+little strangers, accompanied by Mary and Ann, went upstairs, where
+Simpson was waiting for them. Simpson was feeling very cross at the
+arrival of four additional children, but when she saw Diana's tired
+face, and the tears on Iris' pale cheeks, and the defiant, and yet
+baby look in Orion's bright eyes, something came over her which she
+could not quite account for, and she suddenly became kind and
+agreeable.
+
+"Come, my dears," she said; "why, you must all be dead tired, you poor
+little mites. Come now--come in here. And what are your names?"
+
+"I am Iris," replied the eldest little girl in a sweet voice.
+
+"Iris!" repeated Simpson; "and what's your name, young master?"
+
+"Apollo," answered the little boy, flinging back his dark head and
+fixing his handsome eyes upon the woman.
+
+"My word! that's a queer sort of name--outlandish, I call it!"
+ejaculated Simpson. "And now, missy, I expect you are called Baby?"
+
+"No, I aren't," replied Diana. "I is the gweat Diana; I has got a bow
+and arrow, and I'll shoot you if you is not kind."
+
+"Oh, lor'! Now, missy, you would not be so cruel as that?"
+
+"Yes, I would," replied Diana. "See this box in my hand? It's an awfu'
+pwecious box--it has got spiders in it and two beetles. May I put the
+poor darlin's loose in my room?"
+
+Now, if Simpson had a horror, it was of spiders and beetles.
+
+"You keep that box shut, miss," she said, "for if you dare to open it
+in your bedroom I'll just go straight down and tell my mistress."
+
+"And then you'll get punished, Diana," said Mary, in her most annoying
+voice.
+
+"Is you a cousin?" asked Diana, by way of reply.
+
+"Certainly I am." Mary opened her round eyes in some astonishment.
+
+"Is you my cousin?"
+
+"Yes; I am your first cousin."
+
+"First cousin," repeated Diana. She flung off her hat and threw it on
+the floor.
+
+"Orion," she said, turning to her little brother, "you take good care
+of our pwecious box. And what is you?" she continued, raising her eyes
+to Simpson's face.
+
+"Well, my dear, at the present moment I am the nurse, and ready to
+wash you and look after you, and make you comfortable."
+
+"Then I wishes to say something," remarked Diana. "I wishes to say it
+bold, and I wishes to say it soon. I hate cousins, more 'specially
+first, and I hate nurses. There, now, you can go downstairs, first
+cousin, and tell aunt, and she can punish me. I don't care. You can
+tell your mamma just what you p'ease."
+
+Diana strutted across the room, deposited her box on the
+washhand-stand, and then, turning round once again, began to view the
+company. What might have happened at that moment there is no saying,
+if Iris had not come to the rescue.
+
+"Please don't mind her," she said; "she is only a very little child
+and she has gone through great trouble, for our mother--our own
+mother--she has left us, you know. Diana does not really mean to be
+rude. Please let me talk to her. Di, darling, come to me, come to
+Iris."
+
+It was impossible to resist Iris when she spoke in that tone, and when
+she looked at Diana with her speaking dark eyes, and that gentle,
+beautiful expression on her little face, it seemed to Diana then as if
+the hard journey, and the pain of all the partings had never taken
+place at all. She rushed up to her sister, clasped her fat arms round
+her neck, and began to sob.
+
+"Poor little thing, she is dreadfully tired!" said Iris. "If I might
+have a little bread and milk to give her, and then if she might be put
+to bed, I know she would fall asleep immediately and be quite herself
+in the morning."
+
+"Indeed, miss, I think you are right," said Simpson, who could not
+help gazing at Iris with admiration. "I see you are a very kind little
+sister, and of course no one ought to mind the words of a mere baby.
+I'll take it upon me, miss, to do what you suggest, even though my
+missus may be angry. Oh, my word! there's the supper gong. You must go
+down at once, Miss Iris, you really must. I cannot answer for two of
+you being absent, but I will speak to Mrs. Dolman afterwards, and tell
+her that I just put Miss Diana straight to bed, for she was much too
+sleepy to go downstairs again."
+
+"But I won't let you leave me, Iris," almost screamed Diana,
+tightening her arms round her sister's neck.
+
+"Please let me stay here," said Iris. "I do not really want any
+supper, and I know how to manage her. She has gone through a great
+deal."
+
+"Well, miss, do you dare?"
+
+"Oh, I dare anything! I am quite positive certain Aunt Jane won't mind
+when I tell her my own self what I have done."
+
+"I will tell mamma; she shan't mind," said little Ann suddenly.
+
+Iris looked up at her and smiled--Ann smiled back at her. The hearts
+of the two little cousins were knit together in real love from that
+moment.
+
+The gong sounded again downstairs, and this time in a distinctly angry
+manner. The three Dolman girls and the two Delaney boys had to hurry
+off as fast as they could, and then Iris undressed Diana and put her
+into her snug little white bed.
+
+"I is drefful unhappy, Iris," said Diana, as she laid her head on her
+pillow.
+
+"But you won't be in the morning, Diana. You'll feel brave and strong
+and bright in the morning, just like the dear name mother gave you."
+
+"Oh, p'ease, p'ease, will you see that the spiders and beetles has
+somethin' to eat? They is so far from home, poor darlin's, and they
+has come a drefful long journey, and they may be deaded in the morning
+if nothing's not done for 'em. P'ease see to 'em; won't you, Iris?"
+
+"Yes," replied Iris.
+
+"Very well. Now, I'll say my pwayers and go stwaight off to s'eep.
+P'ease, God, b'ess Di, make her good girl. Amen. Good-night, Iris."
+
+The next moment the little girl had gone away into the world of happy
+slumber and innocent dreams. She knew nothing whatever about what poor
+Iris, to her dismay, soon discovered, namely, that Simpson had marched
+off with the box which contained the spiders and beetles. That box,
+with its contents, was never found again. It was the straw too much,
+as Simpson expressed it afterwards.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+THE PUNISHMENT CHAMBER.
+
+
+The next morning matters began by being a little better, and might
+have gone on being so but for Diana. The four little Delaneys had
+slept well, and were refreshed; and as the sun was shining brightly,
+and there was a pleasant breeze blowing, Mrs. Dolman decided that all
+the nine children might have a holiday in order to get acquainted with
+one another. It did not seem so very dreadful to Iris and Apollo to
+have cousins to walk about with and talk to. Philip and Conrad, too,
+were fairly kind to little Orion; they took him round to see their
+gardens and their several pets. Life was certainly prim at the Rectory
+compared to what it had been at the Manor; but children will be
+children all the world over, and when there is a bright sun in the
+heavens, and flowers grow at their feet, and a gentle breeze is
+blowing, it is almost impossible to be all sulks and tears and misery.
+Even Diana was interested in what was going on. She had never been
+away from home before, and she found it pleasant to watch the Dolman
+children. As she expressed it, in her sturdy fashion, she did not
+think much of any of them, but still it amused her to hear them speak,
+and to take Ann's hand and allow her to lead her round the garden.
+
+Ann was extremely kind to her, but she only received a very qualified
+measure of approval from the saucy little miss. Lucy and Mary she
+could not bear, but as Ann showed her all her treasures, and as Ann
+happened also to be very fond of animals, Diana began to chatter, and
+presently became almost confidential. Suddenly, however, in the midst
+of quite a merry game of play, the little girl was heard to utter a
+shout.
+
+"Where is my darlin's that I brought from home?" she cried; "my three
+spiders and my four beetles? I have not given none of 'em their
+bwekfus. I must wun and fetch 'em. Iris promised to see to 'em last
+night, so I know they isn't deaded; but I must go this very instant
+minute to feed 'em, 'cos, of course, they wants their bwekfus, poor
+dears. If you like I'll show 'em to you, Ann; you can see 'em while
+they is eating."
+
+"Please, Diana, don't go!" called out Ann; but Diana did not hear her.
+Putting wings to her sturdy little feet, she sped across the lawn, ran
+helter-skelter into the house, and up to the room where she had slept.
+
+The room was empty, the windows were wide open, the little bed was
+neatly made; there was not a sign of the precious box to be discovered
+anywhere.
+
+"Where is that howid old nurse?" called Diana aloud. "She must know
+where my pets is. Oh, they must be desp'te hungry, poor darlin's. I
+say, nurse, where is 'oo? Nurse, come 'long, you howid old thing!"
+
+Simpson, who happened to be in the day-nursery not far away, heard
+Diana's imperious little cry. The under-nurse was also standing in the
+room.
+
+"Mrs. Simpson," she said, "I hear one of the strange little ladies
+calling out for you."
+
+"Well, and so do I hear her," answered Mrs. Simpson, with a toss of
+her head; "but she must learn to speak respectful before I take any
+notice. I fully expect it's that pert little Miss Diana. They say she
+is called after one of the heathen gods; no wonder she is so fiery
+and--"
+
+But at that moment the fierce little face, the jet-black head and
+sparkling eyes were seen peeping round the nursery door.
+
+"There you is, old Simpson; that's wight," said Diana, dancing up to
+her. "Now, p'ease, tell me where you put my box."
+
+"What box, miss? I'll thank you, Miss Diana, not to call me old
+Simpson. My name is Mrs. Simpson."
+
+"I only call you what you is," said Diana. "You is old, your hair is
+gway; you is awfu' old, I 'spect. Now, where is my box? Where did you
+put it, old--I mean, Mrs. Simpson?"
+
+"What box, miss?" said Simpson, beginning to temporize, for she really
+was afraid of the burst of wrath which Diana might give way to when
+she learned the truth.
+
+"You _is_ a stupid," said Diana. "It's the box what holds my pwecious
+beetles and spiders. I want to feed 'em. I'm just going to catch flies
+for my spiders. I know how to catch 'em quite well; and my dear little
+bettles, too, must be fed on bits of sugar. Where did you put the box?
+The woom I s'ept in is kite tidy. Where is the box? Speak, can't you?"
+
+"Well, then, Miss Diana, I must just tell you the simple truth. We
+can't have no messing with horrid vermin in this house. I would not
+stay here for an hour if I thought those odious beetles and spiders
+were anywhere about."
+
+"Well, then, you can go," said Diana; "nobody wants you to stay; you
+is of no cons'kence. I want my darlin' pets, my little home things
+that comed from the lovely garden; my spiders and my dear beetles.
+Where did you put 'em?"
+
+"The fact is, Miss Diana, you want a right good talking to," said
+Simpson. "Well, then, this is the truth. I have put 'em away."
+
+"Away! Where?"
+
+"They are gone, miss; you'll never find 'em again."
+
+"Gone!" cried Diana, her face turning pale. "Gone! Did Iris let you
+take 'em away?"
+
+"Your sister knew nothing about it, miss. I took the box last night
+and threw it into the dust-hole. I hope the vermin inside are dead by
+now--horrid, odious, disgusting things!"
+
+"Vermin!" cried Diana. Her great eyes leaped, a ray of pure fire
+seemed to dart from them. She looked for a moment as if she meant to
+strike Simpson, but then, thinking better of it, she turned and rushed
+like a little fury from the room. Downstairs, with her heart choking,
+her breath coming fast, her whole little body palpitating with the
+most frantic passion, she ran.
+
+The first person she happened to meet was her uncle, Mr. Dolman. He
+was coming sleepily in from the garden, for the day was getting
+intensely hot. He meant to go to his study to begin to write his
+sermon for next Sunday. He did not feel at all inclined to write his
+sermon, but as it had to be got through somehow, he thought he would
+devote an hour, or perhaps an hour and a half, to its composition this
+morning. When he saw Diana, however, rushing madly through the hall,
+with her eyes shining, her face white, and her whole little body
+quivering with excitement, he could not help exclaiming under his
+breath at her remarkable beauty.
+
+"What a handsome little spitfire!" he said aloud.
+
+"Spitfire, indeed!" said Diana; "it's you all who is spitfires; it's
+not me. I want to say something to you, big man."
+
+"Very well, small girl," answered Mr. Dolman. "I am willing to listen
+to you. What is the matter?"
+
+This was really much more diverting than sitting down to his sermon.
+
+"I want you to have that howid old woman upstairs put in pwison. I
+want you to get the perlice, and have her hands tied, and have her
+took away to pwison. She has done a murder--she has killed my--" But
+here little Diana's voice suddenly failed; high as her spirit was, it
+could not carry her any further. A sense of absolute loneliness came
+over her, and her passion ended in a burst of frantic weeping.
+
+And now all might have been well, for Mr. Dolman was a kind-hearted
+man, and the little child, in her black dress, would have appealed to
+him, and he would have taken her in his arms and comforted her after a
+fashion, and matters might never have been so sore and hard again for
+little Diana, if at that moment Mrs. Dolman had not appeared. She was
+walking hastily across the hall with her district-visiting hat on.
+Mrs. Dolman's district-visiting hat was made in the shape of a very
+large mushroom. It was simply adorned with a band of brown ribbon, and
+was not either a becoming or fashionable headgear.
+
+Diana, who had a strong sense of the ludicrous, stopped her tears
+where her aunt appeared.
+
+"What a poky old thing you is!" she said.
+
+These words enraged Mrs. Dolman.
+
+"William," she remarked, "what are you doing with that child? Why, you
+have taken her in your arms; put her down this minute. Diana, you are
+a very naughty little girl."
+
+"So is you a very naughty old woman," retorted Diana. "I's not going
+away from this nice old man. I don't like you. I'm going to stay with
+you, old man, so don't put me down out of your arms. You will send for
+the perlice, won't you, and you'll have that howid puson upstairs put
+in pwison. Go 'way, aunt. I never did like you, and I never will, and
+you is awfu' poky in that bonnet. But I'll go with you, old man." Here
+she flung her fat arms round her uncle's neck and gave him a hug.
+
+"You are not pwetty like faver," she said, "you are kite an ugly old
+man, but all the same I like you;" and she kissed him, a slobbering,
+wet kiss on his cheek.
+
+"Jane," said Mr. Dolman, "this poor little girl is in great trouble. I
+cannot in the least make out why, but perhaps you had better let her
+come with me into the library for a few minutes."
+
+"I'll allow nothing of the kind," answered Mrs. Dolman. "Diana Delaney
+is an extremely naughty little child, and I am quite determined that
+her spirit shall be broken. It was all very well for you to go on with
+your tantrums at the Manor, miss, but now you are under my control,
+and you shall do exactly what I wish. Come, Diana, none of this. What,
+you'll kick me, will you? Then I shall have you whipped."
+
+"What's whipped?" questioned Diana.
+
+Mrs. Dolman stooped down and lifted her into her arms. She was a
+stout and largely-made child, and the little woman found her somewhat
+difficult to carry. She would not let her down, however, but conducted
+her across the cool hall and into a room at the further end of the
+passage. This room was nearly empty, matting covered the floor and a
+round table stood in the center, while two or three high-backed
+chairs, with hard seats, were placed at intervals round the walls. It
+was a decidedly dreary room, and rendered all the more so because the
+morning sun was pouring in through the dusty panes.
+
+This room was well known to all the little Dolmans, for it was called
+the punishment chamber. In this room they had all of them shed bitter
+tears in their time, and some of the spirit which had been given to
+them at their birth was subdued and broken here, and here they learned
+to fear mamma, although not to respect her. They were all accustomed
+to this chamber, but little Diana Delaney had never in the whole
+course of her spirited six years heard of anything in the least
+resembling this odious and ugly apartment.
+
+"Here you stay until you beg my pardon," said Mrs. Dolman, "and if I
+hear you daring to call me names again, or your uncle names, or doing
+anything but just behaving like a proper little Christian child, I
+shall have you whipped. I believe in not sparing the rod, and so the
+child is not spoiled. What, you'll defy me, miss!"
+
+"I hate you," screamed Diana, "and I want you to go to pwison too, as
+well as that awfu' old Simpson upstairs. She has gone and murdered all
+my animals--she said they was vermin. Oh, I hate you, aunt!"
+
+"Hate me or not, you'll stay where you are until dinner-time," said
+Mrs. Dolman, and she left the room, locking the door after her.
+
+Diana flew to it and kicked it furiously, but although she kicked and
+screamed and shouted herself hoarse, no one heard her, and no one came
+to the rescue. At last, worn out with her frantic grief, she threw
+herself down in the middle of the floor and, babylike, forgot her
+sorrows in profound slumber.
+
+The rest of the children were having a fairly happy morning, and Iris,
+who was trying to make the best of things, did not miss her little
+sister until the preparation gong for dinner sounded. The moment its
+sonorous notes were heard pealing over the Rectory garden, little Ann
+got up soberly, and Lucy and Mary also rose to their feet.
+
+"That is the first gong, Iris," said Ann; "we must go in to clean our
+hands and have our hair brushed. Mamma would be very angry if we were
+not all in the dining room when the second gong sounds. There is only
+five minutes between the two gongs, so we had better go and get ready
+at once."
+
+Iris was quite ready to accompany her cousins into the house. Now, for
+the first time, however, she missed Diana.
+
+"Where is Di?" she said. "Apollo, have you seen her?"
+
+Apollo was coming up the lawn; Iris ran down to meet him.
+
+"Oh, there's Orion with Philip and Conrad," said Iris, "but where can
+Di be? I thought she was with you, Apollo."
+
+"I have not seen her for the greater part of the morning," replied
+Apollo. "Have you, Orion?"
+
+"Not I," answered Orion, giving himself a little shake. "I say,
+Phil," he continued, "is it true that you can take me fishing with you
+this afternoon?"
+
+"Yes; but pray don't talk so loud. I'll take you, if you won't split
+about it."
+
+"What's 'split'?" questioned Orion.
+
+"Hush, you little beggar!" Philip drew Orion to one side and began to
+whisper in his ear. Orion's face got very red.
+
+"Oh!" he said. "Well, I won't tell. What are you talking about, Iris?"
+
+"I want to find Diana," said Iris.
+
+"I have not seen her," said Orion. "I wish you would not bother me,
+Iris. I am talking to Philip. Phil and I has got some secrets. Very
+well, Phil; we'll walk on in front, if you like."
+
+"Yes, come along," said Philip; "you can come too, Conrad. Now, Orion,
+if you are not going to be a silly goose and a tell-tale, I'll--" Here
+he dropped his voice to a whisper, and Orion bent an attentive ear.
+
+Iris, in some bewilderment, turned to her girl cousins.
+
+"I must find Diana," she said.
+
+"She may be in the house," said Ann. "Perhaps she has gone to the
+nurseries--perhaps she is with Simpson."
+
+The whole party entered the house, which was very cool and pleasant in
+contrast to the hot outside world. They met Mr. Dolman striding across
+the hall.
+
+"You had better be quick, children," he called out. "Mamma won't be
+pleased unless you are all waiting and ready to sit down to table when
+the second gong sounds."
+
+"Oh, please, Uncle William!" said Iris, "do you happen to know where
+Diana is?"
+
+"Little Diana with the spirited black eyes?" questioned Mr. Dolman.
+
+"Yes; do you know anything about her?"
+
+He pushed his spectacles halfway up on his broad, bald forehead.
+
+"I am afraid little Diana has been very naughty," he said; "but, pray
+don't say that I mentioned it. You had better question your aunt, my
+dear. No, there is no use asking me. I vow, once for all, that I am
+not going to interfere with you children--particularly with you little
+Delaneys. I only know that Diana has been naughty. Ask your aunt--ask
+your aunt, my dear."
+
+"Iris, do pray come upstairs," called out Mary; "we'll get into the
+most dreadful scrape if we are late. Mamma is so terribly particular."
+
+"Oh, there is Aunt Jane!" said Iris, with a sigh of relief. "Aunt
+Jane, please," she continued, running up to her aunt as she spoke, "I
+can't find Diana anywhere. Do you happen to know where she is?"
+
+"I am afraid you won't find Diana, Iris," answered Mrs. Dolman, "for
+the simple reason that she has been a very impertinent, naughty little
+girl, and I have been obliged to lock her up."
+
+"You were obliged to lock her up?" said Iris, her face turning pale.
+She gave Mrs. Dolman a look which reminded that lady of her brother.
+Now, the little Delaneys' father could give very piercing glances out
+of his dark eyes when he chose, and Mrs. Dolman had been known, in her
+early days, to quail before them. For the same inexplicable reason she
+quailed now before the look in Iris' brown eyes. "Please take me at
+once to my sister," said the little girl, with dignity.
+
+Mrs. Dolman hesitated for a moment.
+
+"Very well, Iris, on this occasion I will take you," she said. "But
+please first understand that you four children have got to bend your
+wills to mine; and when you are naughty,--although I don't expect you
+will ever be naughty, Iris,--I trust you, at least, will be an example
+to the others,--but when any of you are naughty you will be most
+certainly punished. I have brought you here with the intention of
+disciplining you and making you good children."
+
+"Then," said Iris, very slowly, "do you really think, Aunt Jane, that
+when mother was alive we were bad children?"
+
+"I have nothing to say on that point," answered Mrs. Dolman. She led
+Iris across the cool hall, and, taking a key out of her pocket, opened
+the door of the punishment chamber. She threw it wide open, and there,
+in the center of the matting, lay Diana, curled up like a little dog,
+very sound asleep.
+
+"Much she cares," said Mrs. Dolman.
+
+"Oh, Aunt Jane!" said Iris, tears springing to her eyes, "how could
+you be cruel to her, and she is not long without mother, you know--how
+could you be cruel to her, Aunt Jane?"
+
+"You are not to dare to speak to me in that tone, Iris," said Aunt
+Jane.
+
+But at that moment the noise, or perhaps it was the draught of fresh
+air, caused Diana to stir in her sleep. She raised her head and looked
+around her. The first person her eyes met was Iris.
+
+"So you has come at last," she said. "I don't think much of you for a
+mother. You made a lot of pwomises, and that's all you care. Has that
+ugly old woman been sent to pwison? There's my darlin' pets gone and
+got deaded, and she deaded 'em. Has she been put in pwison for murder?
+Oh, there you is, too, old Aunt Jane! Well, I is not going to obey
+you, so there! Now you know the twuf. I is Diana, the gweat Diana. I
+isn't going to obey nobody!"
+
+"Iris," said Mrs. Dolman, "will you speak to this extremely naughty
+little girl? If she will not repent and beg my pardon she shall have
+no dinner. I will send her in some bread and water; and here she shall
+stay until her naughty little spirit is broken."
+
+Mrs. Dolman left the room as she spoke, and Iris found herself alone
+with her sister.
+
+"You isn't much of a mother," repeated Diana. She went over to the
+window, and stood with her back to Iris. Her little bosom was heaving
+up and down; she felt very forlorn, but still she hugged her misery to
+her as a cloak.
+
+Iris gazed at her in perplexity.
+
+"Di," she said, "I never saw you like this before. What are you
+turning away from me for? Come to me, Di; do come to me."
+
+Diana's little breast heaved more than ever, tears came into her eyes,
+but she blinked them furiously away.
+
+"You can come to me, if you want; I shan't come to you. You isn't much
+of a mother," she repeated.
+
+"But I did not know you were in trouble, darling. Do, do come to your
+own Iris. Do tell me what is the matter."
+
+"Oh, Iris!" sobbed Diana.
+
+The first kind note utterly melted her little heart; she rushed to
+her sister, flung herself upon her, and sobbed as if she would never
+stop crying.
+
+"We can't stay in this howid place, Iris," she said; "all my darlin's
+has gone and got deaded. That howid old woman upstairs said they was
+wermin. She has killed 'em all. I can't stay here; I won't stay here.
+Take me back to the beautiful garden. Do, Iris; do. I'se just so
+mis'ble."
+
+Iris sat down on one of the hard-backed chairs.
+
+"Look here, Di," she said, "I have no time now to talk things over
+with you. Of course, everything is altered, and our lives are
+completely changed. When mother was dying, when I last saw her, she
+told me that I must expect this. She said she knew that, when she went
+away to the angels, we four children would have to go out into the
+world and fight our battles. She said that everybody in the world has
+got a battle to fight, and even little children have to fight theirs.
+She said, too, that if we were brave and the kind of children she
+wants us to be, we would follow the names she gave us and conquer our
+enemies. Now, Di, you are called after Diana, the great Diana, who was
+supposed to be a sort of goddess. Do you think she would have given
+in? Don't you think she would have been brave?"
+
+"Yes, course," said the little nineteenth-century Diana. "She would
+have shotted people down dead with her bow and arrows--I know kite
+well she was a bwave sort of a lady. All wight, Iris, I'll copy her if
+you wishes."
+
+"Indeed I do wish, darling. I think it would be splendid of you."
+
+"She was a very bwave lady," repeated Diana. "She had her bow and her
+arrows; she was a gweat huntwess, and she shotted people. I don't
+mind copying her one little bit."
+
+Diana dried away her tears and looked fixedly at her sister.
+
+"Then you really mean to be good and brave, Di?"
+
+"Certain sure, Iris."
+
+"And you won't call Aunt Jane any more names?"
+
+"I won't call her names--names don't si'nify, names don't kill
+people."
+
+"And you'll go and beg her pardon now?"
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"You'll say you are sorry that you called her names."
+
+"Would she let me out of this woom, then? and could I do just what I
+liked my own self?"
+
+"I expect so; I expect she is really sorry that she had to be hard on
+you to-day; but you see she has got a different way of bringing up
+children from our own mother."
+
+"Please, Iris, we won't talk much of our own mother--it makes me lumpy
+in the trof," said Diana, with a little gulp. "I'll beg her pardon, if
+it pleases her. I don't care--what's words? I'll go at once, and,
+Iris, mind me that I'm like Diana. She was a bwave lady and she
+shotted lots of people."
+
+"Well, then, come along, Di; you'll be allowed to come to dinner if
+you beg Aunt Jane's pardon."
+
+Di gave her hand to Iris, who took her upstairs. Here Iris washed her
+little sister's face and hands and brushed out her thick black hair,
+and kissed her on her rosebud lips, and then said:
+
+"There is nothing I would not do, Di, to be a real little mother to
+you."
+
+"All wight," answered Diana; "you just mind me now and then that I is
+called after the bwave lady what lived long, long ago. Is that the
+second gong? I'se desp'ate hungy. Let's wun downstairs, p'ease, Iris."
+
+Diana entered the dining room with her face all aglow with smiles, the
+rich color back again in her cheeks, and her black eyes dancing. Even
+Mr. Dolman gave a gasp of relief when he saw her.
+
+Even Mrs. Dolman felt a slight degree of satisfaction. She did not
+intend to be hard on the children--in her heart of hearts she was
+quite resolved to make them not only good, but also happy.
+
+"Well, my dear little girl," she said, drawing Diana to her side, "and
+so you are sorry for what you said?"
+
+"Awfu' sossy," answered Diana, in a cheerful voice.
+
+"Then you beg my pardon, and you won't be naughty again?"
+
+"I begs yous pardon, Aunt Jane," said Diana. She looked very
+attentively up and down her relation's figure as she spoke.
+
+"Poor Aunt Jane, she's awfu' stout," murmured Diana, under her breath.
+"I must get a good sharp arrow--oh, yes! words is nothing."
+
+Mrs. Dolman drew out a chair near herself.
+
+"You shall sit near me, Diana, and I will help you to your dinner,"
+she said. "I hope in future you will really try to be a very good
+little girl."
+
+Diana made no reply to this, but when her aunt piled her plate with
+nourishing and wholesome food, she began to eat with appetite. Towards
+the end of the meal she bent over towards Mrs. Dolman, and said in a
+confiding voice:
+
+"Has you got woods wound here?"
+
+"Yes, my dear; there are some nice woods about a mile away."
+
+"I'd like to go there this afternoon, please, Aunt Jane. I has
+'portant business to do in those woods." Diana looked round the table
+very solemnly as she said these last words. Philip could not help
+laughing.
+
+"Hush, Philip! I won't have Diana laughed at," said Mrs. Dolman, who
+for some reason was now inclined to be specially kind to the little
+girl. "If you would really like to spend the afternoon in the woods,
+Diana, I see nothing against it," she remarked. "You are all having a
+holiday, and as to-morrow lessons will of course be resumed, I do not
+see why your wish should not be gratified. Miss Ramsay, you will of
+course accompany the children, and, Lucy, my dear, you can have the
+pony chaise, if you promise to be very careful. You can take turns to
+sit in it, children. And what do you say to asking cook to put up a
+few bottles of milk and some cake and bread and butter--then you need
+not return home to tea?"
+
+"That would be delightful, mamma," said Lucy, in her prim voice.
+
+"Thank you, mamma," said Mary.
+
+"French, my dears; French!" said Miss Ramsay.
+
+"As it is a holiday, Miss Ramsay, the children are allowed to tender
+their thanks to me in the English tongue," said Mrs. Dolman.
+
+Miss Ramsay bowed and slightly colored.
+
+"Is you going with us?" asked Diana, fixing her dark eyes full upon
+the governess' face.
+
+"Yes, Diana; your aunt wishes it."
+
+"We don't want no g'own-ups."
+
+"Hush, Diana! you must not begin to be rude again," said Mrs. Dolman.
+"Miss Ramsay certainly goes with you, please understand."
+
+"I underland--thank you, Aunt Jane," said Diana.
+
+She looked solemnly down at her empty plate. Her whole little mind was
+full of her namesake--the great Diana of long ago. She wondered if in
+the deep shade of the woods she might find a bow strong enough to
+injure her enemies.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+BOW AND ARROW.
+
+
+Nothing interfered with the excursion to the pleasant woods near
+Super-Ashton Rectory. The children all found themselves there soon
+after four o'clock on this lovely summer afternoon. They could sit
+under the shade of the beautiful trees, or run about and play to their
+hearts' content.
+
+Miss Ramsay was a very severe governess during school hours, but when
+there was a holiday she was as lax as she was particular on other
+occasions. This afternoon she took a novel out of her pocket, seated
+herself with her back to a great overspreading elm tree, and prepared
+to enjoy herself.
+
+Lucy, Mary, and Ann surrounded Iris; Apollo marched away by himself,
+and Philip and Conrad mysteriously disappeared with little Orion.
+Diana thus found herself alone. For a time she was contented to lie
+stretched out flat on the grass playing soldiers, and watching the
+tricks of a snow-white rabbit who ran in and out of his hole close by.
+Presently, however, she grew tired of this solitary entertainment, and
+sprang to her feet, looking eagerly around her.
+
+"Punishment is a very good thing," she said to herself. "I's punished,
+and I's lot better. It's now Aunt Jane's turn to be punished, and it's
+Simpson's turn to be punished--it'll do them heaps of good. First time
+I's only going to punish 'em, I isn't going to kill 'em down dead,
+but I's going to pwick 'em. I is Diana, and mother said I was to live
+just like the gweat Diana what lived long, long, _long_ ago."
+
+Diana began to trot eagerly up and down under the shade of the tall
+forest trees. She looked about her to right and left, and presently
+was fortunate enough to secure a pliant bough of a tree which was
+lying on the ground. Having discovered this treasure, she sat down
+contentedly and began to pull off the leaves and to strip the bark.
+When she had got the long, supple bough quite bare, she whipped some
+string out of her pocket, and converted it into the semblance of a
+bow. It was certainly by no means a perfect bow, but it was a bow
+after a fashion.
+
+The bow being made, the arrow must now be secured. Diana could not
+possibly manage an arrow without a knife, and she was not allowed to
+keep a knife of her own. Both bow and arrow must be a secret, for if
+anyone saw her with them it might enter into the head of that person
+not to consider it quite proper for her to punish Aunt Jane.
+
+"And Aunt Jane must be punished," muttered Diana. "I must make an
+arrow, and I must pwick her with it. My bow is weally beautiful--it is
+a little crooked, but what do that matter? I could shoot my arrow now
+and pwick the twees, if only I could get one made. Oh, here's a
+darlin' little stick--it would make a lovely arrow, if I had a knife
+to sharpen the point with. Now, I do wonder what sort of a woman that
+Miss Wamsay is."
+
+Diana fixed her coal-black eyes on the lady.
+
+"She looks sort of gentle now she's weading," whispered the little
+girl to herself. "She looked howid this morning in the schoolroom, but
+she looks sort of gentle now. I even seed her smile a minute back,
+and I should not be a bit s'prised if she didn't hate Aunt Jane too. I
+know what I'll do; I'll just go and ask her--there is nothing in all
+the world like being plain-spoke. If Miss Wamsay hates Aunt Jane, why,
+course, she'll help me to sharpen my arrow, when I tell her it is to
+give Aunt Jane a little pwick."
+
+Accordingly Diana approached Miss Ramsay's side, and, as the governess
+did not look up, she flung herself on the grass near by, uttering a
+deep sigh as she did so. But Miss Ramsay was intent on her book, and
+did not take the least notice of Diana's deep-drawn breath. The little
+girl fidgeted, and tried further measures. She came close up to the
+governess, and, stretching out one of her fat hands, laid it on one of
+Miss Ramsay's.
+
+"Don't touch me, my dear," said the lady. "You are much too hot, and
+your hand is very dirty."
+
+"I's sossy for that," said Diana. "I had to touch you 'cos you
+wouldn't look up. I has something most 'portant to talk over."
+
+"Have you indeed?" replied Miss Ramsay. She closed her book. The part
+she was reading was not specially interesting, and she could not help
+being amused with such a very curious specimen of the genus child as
+Diana Delaney.
+
+"Well, little girl, and what is it?" she asked.
+
+"I 'spects," said Diana, looking very solemnly into her face, "that
+you and me, we has both got the same enemies."
+
+"The same enemies! My dear child, what do you mean?" asked Miss
+Ramsay.
+
+"I 'spects I's wight," said Diana, tossing her black head. "I's not
+often wrong. I wead your thoughts--I think that you has a desp'ate
+hate, down deep in your heart, to Aunt Jane."
+
+"Good gracious!" cried the governess, "what does the child mean? Why
+should I hate Mrs. Dolman?"
+
+"But why should not you?--that's the point," said Diana.
+
+"Well, I don't," said Miss Ramsay.
+
+Diana looked intently at her. Slowly, but surely, her big black eyes
+filled with tears; the tears rolled down her cheeks; she did not
+attempt to wipe them away.
+
+"What is the matter with you, you queer little creature?" said Miss
+Ramsay. "What in the world are you crying about?"
+
+"I is so bitter dis'pointed," repeated Diana.
+
+"What, because I don't hate your Aunt Jane?"
+
+"I is bitter dis-pointed," repeated Diana. "I thought, course, you
+hated her, 'cos I saw her look at you so smart like, and order you to
+be k'ick this morning, and I thought, 'Miss Wamsay don't like that,
+and course Miss Wamsay hates her, and if Miss Wamsay hates her, well,
+she'll help me, 'cos I hates her awful.'"
+
+"But do you know that all this is very wrong?" said Miss Ramsay.
+
+"W'ong don't matter," answered Diana, sweeping her hand in a certain
+direction, as if she were pushing wrong quite out of sight. "I hate
+her, and I want to punish her. You ought to hate her, 'cos she told
+you to be k'ick, and she looked at you with a kind of a fwown. Won't
+you twy and begin? Do, p'ease."
+
+"I really never heard anything like this before in the whole course of
+my life," said Miss Ramsay. "Mrs. Dolman did warn me to be prepared
+for much, but I never heard a Christian child speak in the way you
+are doing."
+
+"I isn't a Chwistian child," said Diana. "I is a heathen. Did you
+never hear of Diana what lived long, long ago?--the beautiful, bwave
+lady that shotted peoples whenever she p'eased with her bow and
+arrows?"
+
+"Do you mean the heathen goddess?" said Miss Ramsay.
+
+"I don't know what you call her, but I is named after her, and I mean
+to be like her. My beautiful mother said I was to be like her, and I'm
+going to twy. See, now, here is the bow"--she held up the crooked bow
+as she spoke--"and I only want the arrow. Will you help me to make the
+arrow? I thought--oh, I did think--that if you hated Aunt Jane you
+would help me to make the arrow. Here's the stick, and if you have a
+knife in your pocket you can just sharpen it, and it will make the
+most perfect arrow in all the world. I'll love you then. I'll help you
+always. I'll do my lessons if you ask me, and I'll twy to be good to
+you; 'cos you and me we'll both have our enemies, and p'w'aps, if I'm
+not stwong enough to use the bow, p'w'aps you could use it, and we
+might go about together and sting our enemies, and be weal fwiends.
+Will you twy? Will you make me the little arrow, p'ease, p'ease?"
+
+"And what are you going to do with the arrow when it is made?" asked
+Miss Ramsay. "I happen," she continued, without waiting for Diana's
+reply, "to have a knife in my pocket, and I don't mind sharpening that
+piece of wood for you. But bows and arrows are dangerous weapons for
+little girls like you."
+
+"Course they is dangerous," said Diana. "What would be the use of
+'em, if they wasn't? They is to pwick our enemies and p'w'aps kill
+'em."
+
+"But look here, Diana, what do you want this special bow and arrow
+for?"
+
+"I want to have Aunt Jane Dolman and Simpson shotted. I'll tell you
+why I want 'em both to be shotted--'cos Simpson killed my spiders and
+beetles, and Aunt Jane Dolman is a poky old thing and she shut me up
+in a punishment woom. Now wouldn't you like to help me--and then we'll
+both have deaded our enemies, and we'll be as happy as the day is
+long."
+
+Miss Ramsay was so astounded at Diana's remarks that she slowly rose
+from her seat and stared for nearly half a minute at the little girl.
+
+"Well," she said at last, "I have seen in my lifetime all sorts of
+children. I have taught little girls and boys since I was eighteen
+years of age. I have seen good children and naughty children, and
+clever children, and stupid children, but I have never met anyone like
+you, little Diana Delaney. Do you really know what you are saying? Do
+you know that you are a very, very wicked little girl?"
+
+"Are I?" said Diana. "Well, then, I like being a wicked little girl. I
+thought p'w'aps you would help me; but it don't matter, not one bit."
+
+Before Miss Ramsay could say another word Diana had turned abruptly
+and flown, as if on the wings of the wind, right down through the
+wood.
+
+The governess watched the little figure disappearing between the oaks
+and elms until at last it quite vanished from view. She felt a
+momentary inclination to go after the child, but her book was
+interesting, and her seat under the overhanging elm extremely
+comfortable. And this was a holiday, and she worked hard enough, poor
+thing, on working days. And, after all, Diana was nothing but a silly
+little child, and didn't mean half she said.
+
+"It would be folly to take the least notice of her remarks," thought
+the governess. "I'll just go on treating her like the others. I expect
+I shall have a good deal of work breaking in that interesting little
+quartette, for, after all, if my salary is to be raised, I may as well
+stay at the Rectory as anywhere else. The house is comfortable, and I
+have got used to Mrs. Dolman's queer ways by this time."
+
+Accordingly Miss Ramsay reseated herself, and again took up her novel.
+She turned the leaves, and soon got into a most interesting part of
+the volume. Lost in the sorrows of her hero and heroine, she forgot
+all about Diana Delaney and her bow and arrow.
+
+Meanwhile, Diana, walking rapidly away by herself, was reflecting
+hard.
+
+"Miss Wamsay's a poor sort," she thought. "I aren't going to twouble
+'bout anyone like her, but I must get that arrow made. The bow is
+beautiful, but I can't do nothing 'cos I hasn't got an arrow."
+
+At this moment, to her great delight, she saw Apollo coming to meet
+her.
+
+"There you is!" she shouted.
+
+"What do you want with me?" asked Apollo.
+
+"Look at my bow, 'Pollo! Aren't it beautiful? Aren't I just like the
+weal Diana now?"
+
+"Did you make this bow all by yourself?" asked Apollo.
+
+"Yes; why shouldn't I?"
+
+"Well, it's awfully crooked."
+
+"Is it?" said Diana; "I thought it was beautiful. Can you stwaighten
+it for me a little bit, 'Pollo?"
+
+"I think I can make you a better bow than this," answered Apollo.
+
+"Oh, can you? What a darlin' you is! And will you cut an arrow for me,
+and will you make it very sharp? Will you make it awfu' sharp? The
+kind that would pwick deep, you know, that would cut into things and
+be like the arrow that the gweat Diana used."
+
+Apollo was finding his afternoon somewhat dull. He had made no friends
+as yet with the little Dolman children. Orion had disappeared with
+both the boys; Iris was with Ann, Lucy, and Mary; he had been thrown
+for the last hour completely on his own resources. The sight,
+therefore, of Diana, with her flushed face and bright eyes and
+spirited manner, quite cheered the little fellow. He and Diana had
+often been chums, and he thought it would be rather nice to be chummy
+with his little sister to-day.
+
+"I may as well help you," he said, "but, of course, Di, you can't
+expect me to do this sort of thing often. I shall most likely be very
+soon going to school, and then I'll be with fellows, you know."
+
+"What's fellows?" asked Diana.
+
+"Oh, boys! Of course, when I get with boys, you can't expect me to be
+much with you."
+
+"All wight," answered Diana. "I hope you won't get with no fellows
+this afternoon, 'cos you is useful to me. Just sit down where you is,
+and help me to make a bow and arrow."
+
+Apollo instantly seated himself on the grass, and Diana threw herself
+on her face and hands by his side. She raised herself on her elbows
+and fixed her bright black eyes on her brother's face. She stared
+very hard at him, and he stared back at her.
+
+"Well," she said, "isn't you going to begin?"
+
+"Yes," he replied; "but what do you want the bow and arrow for?"
+
+"To get my enemies shotted."
+
+"Your enemies? What folly this is, Di. You have not got any enemies."
+
+"Haven't I? I know better. I won't talk to you about it, 'Pollo."
+
+"All right," replied Apollo; "you must tell me, or I won't help you."
+
+"There, now!" said Diana, "you's got a howid fwown between your bwows.
+I don't like it; you's going to be obs'nate. I don't like obs'nate
+boys."
+
+"I mean what I say," replied Apollo. "I know you of old, you monkey.
+You are up to mischief, and I insist upon hearing all about it."
+
+Diana gazed at him solemnly.
+
+"Does you like Aunt Jane?" she said, after a pause.
+
+"I can't say that I do," replied Apollo.
+
+"Does you like that old thing in the nursery--Simpson, they calls
+her?"
+
+"I can't say that I do," replied the boy again.
+
+"They is sort of enemies of yours, isn't they?" asked Diana.
+
+"Oh! I don't know that I go as far as that," replied Apollo.
+
+"But if Aunt Jane makes you do howid lessons all day, and if Simpson
+is always fussing you and getting you to wash your face and hands, and
+if you can't never go with _fellows_, and if you is kept in--and
+if--and if--"
+
+"Oh! don't begin all that, Di," said Apollo. "Where is the use of
+making the worst of things?"
+
+"Well, I want to make the best of things," said Diana. "I want to have
+our enemies shotted wight off."
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," said Apollo, laughing, "that you wish to
+shoot Aunt Jane and that old woman in the nursery?"
+
+"I wish to pwick 'em first time, and then, if they is naughty again,
+to have 'em shotted down dead. Why not? Mother, who is up in the
+heavens, called me after gweat Diana, and Diana always shotted her
+enemies."
+
+"Oh, dear me, Di! I think you are the queerest little thing in the
+world," said Apollo. "But now, look here," he added, "I am older than
+you, and I know that what you are thinking about is very wrong. I
+can't make you a bow and arrow to do that sort of thing."
+
+Diana looked bitterly disappointed. She could master, or she fancied
+she could master, Aunt Jane, Simpson, and Miss Ramsay, but she knew
+well, from past experience, that she could not master Apollo.
+
+"What is to be done?" she said. She thought for a long time. "Would
+not you like a bow and arrow just all your own, to shoot at the twees
+with?" she asked at last artfully.
+
+"Oh, I have no objection to that!" answered Apollo. "It seems right
+that I should have one; does it not, Di? But of course I would never
+do any mischief with it. Why, little thing, you have been talking the
+most awful rot."
+
+"Well, you can make a bow and arrow for your very own self," said
+Diana.
+
+"I don't see why I shouldn't, but you'll have to promise--"
+
+"Oh, I won't make pwomises!" said Diana. "Why should I make pwomises
+about your bow and arrows? I'll help you to make 'em. Do let me,
+Apollo!"
+
+Apollo seemed suddenly smitten with the idea. After all, it would be
+fine to make a bow and arrow, and to try to shoot things in the wood.
+How lovely it would be if he succeeded in shooting a rabbit; he would
+certainly have a try. Accordingly, he rose and climbed into the lower
+branches of an elm tree, and cut down a long, smooth young bough, and,
+descending again to the ground, began to peel the bark off. When this
+was done, Diana produced some more string out of her pocket, and a
+very creditable bow was the result.
+
+"Now, the arrow," said the little girl.
+
+"We must get some strong wood for that," said Apollo, "something that
+won't split. I'll just walk about and look around me." He did so, and
+soon found a stick suitable for his purpose. He sat down again and
+began whittling away. Very soon a fairly sharp arrow was the result.
+"Of course it ought to be tipped," said Apollo, "but we have nothing
+to tip it with. It is lucky that the wood is hard, and so it is really
+sharp. Now, shall I have a few shots with it?"
+
+"Please do, Apollo. Oh, how 'licious it all is! Don't you feel just as
+if you was a heathen god?"
+
+"I wish I were," said Apollo, throwing back his head. "Oh, Di, how hot
+it is in the wood! What wouldn't I give to be back in the dear old
+garden again?"
+
+"Maybe we'll go soon," said Diana; "maybe they won't want to keep us
+if--" But here she shut up her little mouth firmly.
+
+Apollo was too much excited about the bow and arrows to think of
+Diana's remarks. He stood up and began to practice shooting.
+
+"You is doing it beautiful," said Diana, applauding his extremely poor
+efforts. "Now, twy again. Think that you has lived long, long ago, and
+that you is shotting things for our dinner."
+
+The arrow went wide of the mark, the arrow went everywhere but where
+it ought to. Diana clapped and laughed and shouted, and Apollo thought
+himself the finest archer in the world.
+
+"Now, let me have a teeny turn," she said.
+
+"To be sure I will," he replied good-naturedly. He showed her how to
+place the arrow, and she made one or two valiant attempts to send it
+flying through the wood.
+
+"It is hard," she panted; "the arrow don't seem even to make the least
+little pwick. Now, I want to shoot stwaight at that oak twee, or would
+you mind awfu', Apollo, if I was to shoot at you?"
+
+"All right," replied Apollo; "you may aim at my hand, if you like." He
+walked about a dozen yards away and held up his hand.
+
+Diana made valiant efforts, and grew crimson in the face, but the
+arrow still went wide of the mark.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+JOG'APHY.
+
+
+The next day lessons began with a vengeance. It was one thing for the
+four Delaney children to work with Miss Stevenson at the old Manor
+House. Lessons in mother's time were rather pleasant than otherwise;
+as often as not they were conducted in the garden, and when the day
+happened to be very hot, and the little people somewhat impatient of
+restraint, Miss Stevenson gave them a certain amount of liberty; but
+lessons at the Rectory were an altogether different matter. Miss
+Ramsay, when she awoke the next day, had seemed emphatically to have
+put on all her armor. During the holiday, neither Orion nor Diana,
+neither Apollo nor Iris, thought Miss Ramsay of any special account.
+They stared a good deal at Uncle Dolman, and they watched Aunt Jane
+with anxious eyes, but Miss Ramsay did not matter, one way or the
+other. The next day, however, they came to have a totally different
+opinion with regard to her.
+
+At breakfast, on the following morning, whenever Diana opened her
+rosebud lips, she was told that she must not speak unless she could do
+so in the French tongue. Now, all that Diana could manage to say in
+French was 'Oui' and 'Non,' nor was she very certain when to say
+either of these very simple words. She hated being silent, for she was
+a very talkative, cheery little body, except when she was angry.
+Accordingly, the meal was a depressing one, and Diana began to yawn
+and to look wearily out on the sunshiny garden before it was
+half-finished. But, of course, there was no play in the garden for any
+of the children that morning. Immediately after breakfast they all
+went up to the schoolroom. Now, the schoolroom was a very pleasant
+room, nicely and suitably furnished, but in summer it was hot, and on
+very sunshiny days it was painfully hot; its single large bay window
+faced due south, and the sun poured in relentlessly all during the
+hours of morning school. Miss Ramsay, seated at the head of the
+baize-covered table with her spectacles on, looked decidedly
+formidable, and each of the children gazed at their governess with
+anxious eyes. Mary and Lucy were always good little girls, but Philip
+and Conrad were as idle as boys could possibly be, and did their
+utmost to evade Miss Ramsay's endeavors to instill learning into their
+small heads. Orion sat between his two little boy cousins, but for
+some reason or other Orion did not look well that morning. His little
+face, not unlike Diana's in appearance, was bloated, his eyes were
+heavy, he had scarcely touched his breakfast, and he earnestly, most
+earnestly longed to get out of the hot schoolroom.
+
+Miss Ramsay, when all the little people were seated round her, knocked
+sharply on the table with her ruler, and proceeded to make a speech.
+"My dear old pupils," she said, looking at the five little Dolmans as
+she spoke, "on account of your cousins, who, I fear, are ignorant
+little children, I mean on this occasion to speak to you in the
+English tongue. I have now got nine pupils to instruct, and nine
+pupils are a great many for one person to teach. Your mother,
+however, has promised that the master from the village shall come up
+to instruct you all in arithmetic, and your French master and your
+music master will, of course, attend here as usual. I trust,
+therefore, that by more attention on the part of my pupils I may be
+able to continue the heavy task which I have undertaken. What I want
+to impress upon you children"--here she turned abruptly to the little
+Delaneys--"is that lessons are lessons, and play is play. During
+lesson-time I allow _no_ wandering thoughts, I allow no attempts at
+shirking your duties. The tasks I set you will be carefully chosen
+according to your different abilities, and I can assure you beforehand
+that learned they must be. If I find that they are not carefully
+prepared I shall punish you. By being attentive, by making the best of
+your time, you can easily get through the lessons appointed you, and
+then when they are over I hope you will thoroughly enjoy your time of
+play. Now, all of you sit quiet. We will begin with a lesson from
+English history."
+
+Miss Ramsay then began to lecture in her usual style. She was really
+an excellent teacher, and Iris found what she said very interesting.
+She began to tell about the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and she made
+that time quite live to the intelligent little girl. But Apollo had
+not nearly come to the reign of Elizabeth in his English history. He,
+consequently, could not follow the story, and soon began to look out
+of the window, and to count the flies which were buzzing in the hot
+sunshine on the window-panes. When Miss Ramsay addressed a sudden
+question to him he was unable to reply. She passed it on to Ann, who
+instantly gave the correct answer. But Apollo felt himself to be in
+his governess' black books. As this was the first morning of lessons,
+she was not going to be severe, and, telling the little boy to take
+his history away to another table, desired him to read it all
+carefully through.
+
+"I will question you to-morrow about what I told you to-day," she
+said. "Now, remember, you must tell me the whole story of the Spanish
+Armada to-morrow."
+
+"But I have not gone farther than the reign of John," said Apollo.
+
+"Don't answer me, Apollo," said Miss Ramsay; "you are to read this
+part of your history book. Now, sit with your back to the others and
+begin."
+
+Apollo shrugged his shoulders. For a short time he made an effort to
+read his dull history, but then once again his eyes sought the
+sunshine and the flies on the window panes.
+
+Meanwhile Diana, Orion, and the two little Dolman boys were in a class
+by themselves, busily engaged over a geography lesson.
+
+Diana had not the smallest wish to become acquainted with any portion
+of the globe where she was not herself residing. Her thoughts were all
+full of the bow and arrow which Apollo had carefully hidden in a
+little dell at the entrance of the wood, on the previous night. She
+was wondering when she could run off to secure the prize, and when she
+would have an opportunity of punishing her enemies. She began to think
+that it would be really necessary to give Miss Ramsay a prick with the
+fatal arrow. Miss Ramsay was turning out to be most disagreeable.
+
+Meanwhile, the heat of the room, and a curious giddy sensation in her
+head, caused it to sink lower and lower, until finally it rested on
+her book, and little Diana was off in the land of dreams.
+
+A sharp tap on her shoulders roused her with a start. Miss Ramsay was
+standing over her, looking very angry.
+
+"Come, Diana! this will never do," she cried. "How dare you go to
+sleep! Do you know your geography?"
+
+"P'ease, I doesn't know what jog-aphy is," said Diana.
+
+"What a very naughty little girl you are! Have not I been taking pains
+to explain it all to you? You will have to stay in the schoolroom when
+lessons are over for quite five minutes. Now, stand up on your chair,
+hold your book in your hands, don't look out of the window, keep your
+eyes fixed on your book, and then you will soon learn what is required
+of you."
+
+Diana obeyed this mandate with a very grave face.
+
+In about ten minutes Miss Ramsay called her to her side.
+
+"Well, do you know your lesson?" she asked.
+
+"Kite perfect," replied Diana.
+
+"Well, let me hear you. What is the capital of England?"
+
+"Dublin Bay," replied Diana, with avidity.
+
+"You are a very naughty child. How can you tell me you know your
+lesson? See, I will ask you one more question. What is the capital of
+Scotland?"
+
+"Ireland," answered Diana, in an earnest voice.
+
+Miss Ramsay shut the book with a bang. Diana looked calmly at her.
+
+"I thought I knew it," she said. "I's sossy. I don't think I care to
+go on learning jog-aphy; it don't suit me." She stretched herself,
+gave utterance to a big yawn, and half turned her back on her
+teacher. "You is getting in temper," she continued, "and that isn't
+wight; I don't care to learn jog-aphy."
+
+What serious consequences might not have arisen at that moment it is
+hard to tell, had not Orion caused a sudden diversion. He fell off his
+chair in a heap on the floor.
+
+Iris sprang from her seat and ran to the rescue.
+
+"I'm drefful sick," said Orion; "I think it was the lollipops and
+ginger-beer. Please let me go to bed."
+
+"Lollipops and ginger-beer!" cried Miss Ramsay in alarm. "What does
+the child mean?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+A BABY'S HONOR.
+
+
+When Miss Ramsay repeated Orion's words there was a dead silence for a
+full half minute in the schoolroom. Had anyone noticed them, they
+might have observed Philip and Conrad turn very pale; but all eyes
+were directed to little Orion, who was lying on the floor, pressing
+his hand to his stomach and moaning bitterly.
+
+"I'm drefful sick," he said; "I wish I had not taken that horrid
+ginger-beer."
+
+"But where did you get ginger-beer?" said Miss Ramsay, finding her
+voice at last. "Get up this minute, Orion, and come to me.
+
+"Really," continued the good lady to herself, "there must be something
+uncanny in those outlandish names; I don't think I can manage these
+children. Orion is as bad as Diana, and she is the greatest handful I
+ever came across.
+
+"Come here, Orion," continued the governess, "and tell me what is the
+matter with your stomach."
+
+"Pain," answered the little boy, "crampy pain. It's the ginger-beer.
+I'm drefful sick; I can't do no more lessons."
+
+"Let me put him to bed," said Diana; "let me go nurse him. I'll sit on
+his bed and talk to him. He is a very naughty boy, but I know how to
+manage him. Come 'long, Orion; come 'long wid sister Di." She grasped
+the little boy firmly with one of her own stout little hands, and
+pulled him up on to his feet.
+
+"Diana, you are not to interfere," said Miss Ramsay. "Come, Orion;
+come and explain what is the matter."
+
+"Lollipops," moaned Orion, "and ginger-beer. Oh, I did like the
+lollipops, and I was so thirsty I thought I'd never leave off drinking
+ginger-beer."
+
+"But where did you get lollipops and ginger-beer? Mrs. Dolman never
+allows the children to take such unwholesome things. What can you
+mean? Where did you get them?"
+
+To this question Orion refused to make any reply. Baby as he was, he
+had a confused sort of idea of honor. Philip and Conrad had told him
+that he was on no account whatever to mention the fact that they had
+gone away fishing on the previous afternoon, that they had visited a
+little shop and spent some of Orion's own money. Philip and Conrad had
+no money of their own, but before he parted with the children, Mr.
+Delaney had given the two elder ones five shillings apiece, and the
+two younger ones half a crown, and Orion's half-crown had seemed great
+wealth to Philip and Conrad, and had accordingly induced them to treat
+the little fellow with marked consideration. The whole of the money
+was now gone. How, Orion had not the slightest idea. He only knew that
+his pockets were empty and that he felt very sick and very miserable.
+
+He shut up his little lips now and raised his eyes, with a sort of
+scowl in their expression, to Miss Ramsay's face.
+
+"Where did you get the lollipops and ginger-beer?" repeated the
+governess.
+
+"That's my own business," said Orion. "I'm drefful sick; I want to go
+to bed."
+
+"You are a very naughty little boy," said Miss Ramsay.
+
+"I think him a brick," whispered Philip to Conrad.
+
+"Hush, for goodness' sake!" whispered back Conrad.
+
+"I want to go to bed," repeated Orion. "I'm drefful sick; I'm quite
+tired of telling you. I have got a headache and a pain in my tumtum."
+Again he pressed his hand to his stomach and looked imploringly around
+him.
+
+"What's all this fuss?" here burst from Diana. "Why can't Orion go to
+bed? New teacher, you has a very queer way of managing sildrens. When
+we was at home we went to bed when we had pains. I can't underland
+you, not one little bit."
+
+"Come with me this moment, Orion," said Miss Ramsay. "Diana, if you
+speak a word except in the French tongue, you shall be kept in during
+all the afternoon."
+
+Orion and Miss Ramsay left the room, and the other children stared at
+one another. The three Dolman girls sat down to their books. Philip
+and Conrad thought it best to follow their example. Iris and Apollo
+looked wistfully from one to the other, but did not dare to speak; but
+Diana, walking boldly over to the nearest window, amused herself by
+touching each fly in turn with the tip of her small fat finger.
+
+"They don't like it, poor darlin's," she said to herself, "but I don't
+mean to hurt 'em. I wonder now if I could get away to the wood and get
+hold of my bow and arrow. Miss Wamsay must be shotted as well as the
+others. It's awful what I has got to do."
+
+Apollo sank dejectedly down before the account of the Spanish Armada,
+and Iris, with tears slowly rising to her eyes, turned over her lesson
+books. At last the impulse to do something was more than she could
+stand, and, rising from her seat, she edged her way to the door. Mary
+called after her in French to know what she was going to do, but Iris
+would make no reply. She reached the door, opened it, and then ran as
+fast as she could to the nursery.
+
+There she found Simpson putting Orion to bed. The little boy was
+crying bitterly.
+
+"As soon as ever you lie down, master, you have got to drink off this
+medicine," said Simpson.
+
+"I won't touch it--horrid stuff!" said Orion.
+
+"But you must, sir. I'll allow no 'won'ts' in my nursery. Little boys
+have got to do what they are told. If you make any fuss I'll just hold
+your nose and then you'll be obliged to open your mouth, and down the
+medicine will go. Come, come, sir, none of those tears. You have been
+a very naughty little boy, and the pain is sent you as a punishment."
+
+"Oh, there you are, Iris!" said Orion. "Oh, Iris! I am so glad. Please
+be a mother to me--please put your arms round me--please kiss me,
+Iris."
+
+Iris flew to the little fellow, clasped him in her arms, and held his
+hot little forehead against her cheek.
+
+"Simpson," she said, turning to the nurse, "I know quite well how to
+manage him. Won't you let me do it?"
+
+"I am sure, Miss Iris, I'd be only too thankful," said the perplexed
+woman. "There's Miss Ramsay and my mistress in no end of a state, and
+Master Orion as obstinate as a boy can be. There's something gone
+wrong in this house since you four children arrived, and I really
+don't know how I am to stand it much longer. Not that I have any
+special fault to find with you, Miss Iris, nor, indeed, for that
+matter, with Master Apollo; but it's the two younger ones. They are
+handfuls, and no mistake."
+
+"I like being a handfu' 'cept when I'm sick," said Orion. "I don't
+want to be a handfu' to-day. Please, Iris, don't mek me take that
+horrid medicine."
+
+"He must take it, Miss Iris; he won't be better till he do," said the
+nurse, lifting up the glass as she spoke and stirring the contents
+with a spoon. "Come, now, sir, be a brave boy. Just open your mouth
+and get it down. Then you'll drop asleep, and when you wake you will
+probably be quite well."
+
+Orion pressed his lips very tightly together.
+
+"You'll take the medicine for me, Orion?" said Iris.
+
+"No, I can't," he moaned.
+
+"Oh, but, darling! just try and think. Remember you are a giant--a
+grand, great giant, with your girdle and your sword, and this medicine
+is just an enemy that you have got to conquer. Here now; open your
+mouth and get it down. Think of mother, Orion. She would like you to
+take it."
+
+Orion still kept his mouth very firmly shut, but he opened his sweet,
+dark eyes and looked full at his sister.
+
+"Would mother really like it?" he said at last, in a whisper.
+
+"Of course; it would make her ever so happy."
+
+"And will she know about it, Iris?"
+
+"I think she will. Maybe she is in the room with us just now."
+
+"Oh, lor'! what awful talk to say to the child," murmured Simpson to
+herself.
+
+"If I really thought mother could see, and if I really thought--"
+began the little boy.
+
+"Yes, yes, she can see!" said Iris, going on her knees and clasping
+both the little fellow's hands in one of hers. "She can see, she does
+know, and she wants her own brave giant to be a giant to the end. Now,
+here is the enemy; open your mouth, conquer it at one gulp."
+
+"Well, to be sure," whispered Simpson.
+
+Orion, however, did not glance at Simpson. He gazed solemnly round the
+room as if he really saw someone; then he fixed his brown eyes on his
+sister's face, then he opened his mouth very wide. She instantly took
+the cup and held it to the little lips. Orion drained off the nauseous
+draught and lay back, panting, on his pillow.
+
+"It was a big thing to conquer. I am a fine giant," he said, when he
+returned the empty cup to Iris.
+
+"Yes, you are a splendid old chap," she replied.
+
+At that moment Mrs. Dolman and Miss Ramsay entered the room.
+
+"Has Orion taken his medicine?" said Mrs. Dolman. "Iris, my dear, what
+are you doing here?"
+
+"I am very sorry, Aunt Jane," replied Iris, "but I had to come. He
+would never have taken his medicine but for me. I had to remind him--"
+
+"To remind him of his duty. He certainly wanted to be reminded. So he
+has taken the medicine. I am glad of that; but all the same, Iris, you
+did very wrong to leave the schoolroom."
+
+"Please forgive me this one time, Aunt Jane."
+
+"I really think Iris does try to be a good child," interrupted Miss
+Ramsay.
+
+"And she certainly can manage her little brother, ma'am," said
+Simpson, speaking for the first time. "He would not touch his medicine
+for me--no, not for anything I could do; but he drank it off when Miss
+Iris talked some gibberish, all about giants and belts and swords."
+
+"'Tisn't gibberish," said Orion, starting up from his pillow; "it's
+the truest thing in all the world. I am a giant, and I has got a belt
+and a sword. You can look up in the sky on starful nights and you can
+see me. 'Tisn't gibberish."
+
+"Well, lie down now, child, and go to sleep. I am afraid he is a bit
+feverish, ma'am."
+
+"No, that I aren't," said Orion. "Only I'm drefful sick," he added.
+
+"Listen to me, Orion," said Mrs. Dolman, seating herself on the edge
+of the bed and gazing very sternly at the little fellow. "I intend to
+wring a confession out of you."
+
+"What's to wring?" asked Orion.
+
+"I am going to get you to tell me where you got the lollipops and
+ginger-beer."
+
+"I promised not to tell, and I aren't going to," answered Orion.
+
+"But you must. I insist."
+
+"Perhaps, Aunt Jane," said Iris, "I could get him to tell. You see he
+is not accustomed to--not accustomed to----" Her little face turned
+crimson.
+
+"What do you mean, Iris? Do you object to the way I speak to this
+child?"
+
+"Mother never spoke to him like that," said Iris.
+
+"And oh! it is so hot, and he is not well, and I think I can manage
+him. I may get him to tell me."
+
+"Yes, I'll tell you," said Orion, "'cos you'll be faithful."
+
+"Well, really," said Mrs. Dolman, "I am absolutely perplexed. I
+suppose I must give in on this occasion, or that child will be really
+ill, and I by no means wish to have the expense of a doctor. Miss
+Ramsay, you and I had better leave that little pair together. You can
+remain with Orion until dinner-time, Iris."
+
+"Thank you very much indeed, Aunt Jane," replied Iris.
+
+That day at dinner Iris looked very grave. Orion was better, but was
+not present. Mrs. Dolman waited until the meal had come to an end,
+then she called the little girl to her side.
+
+"Now, my dear Iris, what is all this mystery?" she asked.
+
+"Orion has told me all about it, Aunt Jane, but I don't think I'll
+tell. Please don't ask me."
+
+"My dear. I insist upon knowing."
+
+"It was not his fault, Aunt Jane, and I am almost sure he will never
+do it again; he is very sorry indeed. I think he will try to be good
+in future."
+
+Mrs. Dolman was about to reply angrily, when a sudden memory came over
+her. She recalled words her brother had used.
+
+"I will give you the children," he had said, "but you must try to be
+gentle with them."
+
+She looked at Iris now, and did not speak for nearly a minute.
+
+"Very well," she said then; "you are a queer child, but I am inclined
+to trust you. Only please understand that if ever there is any
+misconduct in the future, I shall insist on knowing everything."
+
+"I am greatly obliged to you, Aunt Jane. I could love you for being so
+kind. I will promise that Orion never does anything of that sort
+again."
+
+The children all filed out of the dining room. They had now, according
+to the rule of the day, to return to the schoolroom and lie down for
+an hour. This part of the daily programme was intensely distasteful to
+the little Dolmans, and certainly the Delaneys did not appreciate it a
+bit better, but at long last the wearisome lessons were over, and the
+little people were free.
+
+The moment they got into the garden Philip and Conrad might have been
+seen scudding away as fast as their little feet could carry them.
+Iris, however, had watched them disappearing.
+
+"I want to speak to the boys," she said to Ann.
+
+"Why?" asked Ann.
+
+"Please ask them to come to me, Ann; I have something most particular
+to say to them."
+
+"I know what you mean," answered Ann, turning crimson; "it was Philip
+and Conrad who got poor little Orion into mischief. Oh, Iris! it was
+brave of you, and it was brave of Orion not to tell. I wondered how
+you had the courage to defy mamma."
+
+"I did not defy her," answered Iris. "But please, Ann, I must speak to
+the boys. Send them to me at once."
+
+"They are frightened, and are going to hide," said Ann; "but I'll soon
+get them," she answered. "I know their ways."
+
+After a minute or two she returned, leading Philip and Conrad by the
+hands.
+
+"Iris wants to talk to you," she said to them.
+
+"Yes," said Iris, "I want to say something to you by yourselves."
+
+Ann disappeared.
+
+"I love Iris," whispered little Ann Dolman to herself. "I think she is
+beautiful; and how brave she is! I wish I were like her."
+
+"What do you want with us, Iris?" asked Philip, when he found himself
+alone with his cousin. He raised defiant eyes, and put on an ugly
+little scowl.
+
+"I want to tell you, Phil," said Iris, "that I know everything. Poor
+little Orion would not confess, because you got him to promise not to
+tell; but, of course, he told me the truth. Don't you think you
+behaved very badly indeed?"
+
+"We don't want _you_ to lecture us," said Conrad.
+
+"All right," replied Iris with spirit. "But please remember that I
+promised Orion I would not tell, only so long as you make me a promise
+that you will not tempt him again. If ever I hear that you have led
+Orion into mischief, I will tell everything."
+
+"I thought you looked like a tell-tale," said Conrad.
+
+"No, I am not, nor is Orion; you know better, both of you. Now, please
+understand that I will not have Orion made miserable nor tempted to do
+naughty things. Aunt Jane thinks you are good boys, and she thinks
+Diana and Orion very bad little children; but neither Orion nor Diana
+would do the sort of thing you both did yesterday. Neither of them
+would think of _that_ sort of naughtiness. I call it mean."
+
+Iris walked away with her head in the air. The boys gazed after her
+with a queer sinking of heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+BIRCH ROD.
+
+
+Orion speedily recovered from his bad fit of indigestion, and matters
+began to shake down a little in the schoolroom and nursery. No one
+meant to be unkind to the little Delaneys; and although all things
+were changed for them, in some ways both Iris and Apollo were all the
+better for the strict and vigorous discipline they were now
+undergoing. Iris really enjoyed her lessons, and when Apollo found
+that he had no chance of going to school, and of being with "fellows,"
+as he expressed it, until he had conquered certain difficult tasks
+which Miss Ramsay set him, he began, for his own sake, to apply
+himself to his lessons. He was a bright, clever little chap, and when
+he tried to understand his governess' method of teaching, he did his
+work fairly well. But Diana and Orion were much too young for the
+somewhat severe transplantation which had taken place in their little
+lives. Had Iris been allowed to be with them matters might not have
+grown quite so bad, but she was much occupied with her lessons, and
+the younger children spent the greater part of their time alone.
+
+Philip and Conrad were afraid to make any further advances to Orion.
+In consequence, he had no companion near his own age, except Diana,
+and Diana's little heart, day by day, was growing fuller of
+insubordinate and angry feelings. She was not at all by nature an
+unforgiving little child, but the want of petting and the severe life
+which she was obliged to lead began to tell on her high spirits. She
+became defiant, and was always looking out for an opportunity to vent
+her wrath upon the people whom she termed her enemies. Had Iris only
+had a chance of talking to the little girl, she would soon have got to
+the bottom of the matter, and things might not have turned out as they
+did; but Iris did not even sleep in the room with Diana, and in her
+sister's presence the little girl made a valiant effort to appear as
+happy as usual. As a matter of fact, however, she and Orion spent most
+of their playtime in perfecting their little scheme of revenge, and on
+a certain hot day matters came to a crisis.
+
+It had been much more trying than usual in the schoolroom; the sun
+seemed to beat in with fiercer rays; there were more flies on the
+window-panes, and the air seemed more charged with that terrible
+sleepiness which poor little Diana could not quite conquer. At last
+she dropped so sound asleep that Miss Ramsay took pity on her, and
+told her she might go and have a run in the garden.
+
+"Go into the Filbert walk," said the governess; "don't on any account
+play where the sun is shining. You may stay out for half an hour.
+There is a clock just by the stables, which you can see when you come
+to the end of the walk; you will know then when the half-hour is out.
+Run off now and enjoy yourself."
+
+Diana scarcely wasted any time in thanking Miss Ramsay. She flew from
+the schoolroom as though she were herself a little arrow shot from a
+bow, she tumbled rather than walked downstairs, and with no hat over
+her thick, black curls, careered out wildly, shouting as she did so.
+The prospect of the walk and the look of the sunshine were making the
+little girl very happy, and she might not have thought of any special
+revenge had not Mrs. Dolman at that moment caught sight of her.
+
+Mrs. Dolman was coming out of the kitchen garden. She had on her
+invariable mushroom hat, her face was much flushed with exercise, and
+she was by no means in the best of humors.
+
+"Diana," she said, "what are you doing? Come here this minute."
+
+"No, I won't," answered Diana. She backed before the good lady,
+dancing and skipping and flinging her fat arms over her head. "Oh,
+it's 'licious out!" she said: "I won't come. I has only got half an
+hour; I hasn't any time; I won't come."
+
+Mrs. Dolman began to run after her, which fact excited the little girl
+very much. She instantly raced away, and the stout lady had to follow
+her, panting and puffing.
+
+"Diana, you are a dreadfully naughty little girl; if I catch you up,
+won't I punish you!" panted Mrs. Dolman.
+
+"I don't care," called back Diana. "You can't catch me up; you is fat;
+you can't wun. See, let's have a wace--let's find out who'll be at the
+end of the walk first. Now then, one, two, three, and away! Go it,
+Aunt Jane! Now, then, k'ick, Aunt Jane; k'ick!"
+
+Mrs. Dolman's rage at this great impertinence made her almost
+speechless. She flew after Diana, but would have had little or no
+chance of catching her, if the child had not suddenly tripped up
+against a stone and measured her full length on the ground. Before
+she could rise again Mrs. Dolman had caught her by the shoulder, and,
+as a preliminary measure, began to shake her violently.
+
+"You are a bad little thing," she said. "Why didn't you come to me
+when I called you?"
+
+"'Cos I didn't want to, Aunt Jane."
+
+"But do you know that you have got to obey me, miss? What would your
+mother say?"
+
+"You isn't to dare to talk of mother to me," answered Diana.
+
+"Highty-tighty! I'm not to dare. Do you suppose, Diana, that I will
+allow a little child like you to defy me in my own house?"
+
+"What's defy?" asked Diana.
+
+"You are defying me now; you are a very naughty little girl, and I
+shall punish you."
+
+"I don't care," said Diana, tossing her head. "I was sent out by Miss
+Wamsay 'cos I found the schoolroom too hot and I was sleepy. I can't
+obey you and Miss Wamsay both at the same time, can I? I did not come
+to you 'cos I don't like you."
+
+"That's a pretty thing to say to your own aunt. Come, miss, I shall
+punish you immediately."
+
+"Oh, you's going to lock me up in the punishment woom. I don't care
+one bit for that," said Diana. "I'll just lie on the floor and curl up
+like a puppy and go to s'eep. I dweam beautiful when I s'eep. I dweam
+that you is shotted, and that I is back again in the dear old garden
+at home with all the pets; and that Rub-a-Dub is alive again. I dweam
+that you is shotted down dead, and you can do no more harm, and----"
+
+But Diana could not proceed any further. Mrs. Dolman, in her wild
+indignation, had lifted her in her arms, clapped her hand over her
+mouth, and carried her bodily into the study, where Mr. Dolman was
+preparing his sermon.
+
+"William," said his wife, "I am really very sorry to disturb you, but
+I must ask you to come to my assistance."
+
+"In what way, Jane?" he said. He pushed his spectacles, as his
+invariable habit was, high up on the middle of his forehead, and
+looked from his wife to Diana, and from Diana back again to his wife.
+
+"Hi, Diana! is that you? Why, what is the matter, little one?" he
+said.
+
+"You are not to speak to this very naughty little girl," said Mrs.
+Dolman. "I am sorry to trouble you, William, but matters have come to
+a crisis, and if you don't support your wife on this occasion, I
+really do not know what will happen."
+
+"But, my dear Jane, do you mean to say that little Diana----"
+
+"Little Diana!" repeated Mrs. Dolman. "She is quite a monster, I can
+tell you--a monster of ingratitude, wickedness, and rudeness, and I
+don't see how we can keep her any longer with our own children."
+
+"But I am afraid, my dear wife, we cannot get David Delaney back now;
+he must have reached the Himalayas by this time."
+
+"Poor fellow!" said Mrs. Dolman, "I pity him for being the father of
+such a very bad little girl."
+
+"I aren't bad," cried Diana. "If you say any more, naughty woman, I'll
+slap 'oo."
+
+Mrs. Dolman thought it best to let Diana slide down on the floor.
+
+The moment the little girl found her feet she rushed up to her Uncle
+Dolman.
+
+"I like you, old man," she said; "you isn't half a bad sort. I'll stay
+with you. P'ease, Aunt Jane, punish me by letting me stay with Uncle
+William. I'll just sit on the floor curled up, and maybe I'll dwop
+as'eep, and have my nice dweams about the time when you is shotted,
+and I'm back again in the old garden with all my darlin', dear, sweet
+pets. I'll dweam, p'waps, that we is having funerals in the garden and
+we is awfu' happy, and you is shotted down dead. Let me stay with
+Uncle William, Aunt Jane."
+
+"Now, you see what kind of child she is, William," said Mrs. Dolman.
+"You have heard her with your own ears--she absolutely threatens _me_.
+Oh, I cannot name what she says; it is so shocking. I never came
+across such a terribly bad little girl. William, I must insist here
+and now on your chastising her."
+
+"In what way?" said Mr. Dolman. "I am very busy, my dear Jane, over my
+sermon. Could it not be postponed, or could not you, my dear?"
+
+"No, William, I could not, for the dark room is not bad enough for
+this naughty little girl. She must be whipped, and you must do it.
+Fetch the birch rod."
+
+"But really," said Mr. Dolman, looking terribly distressed, "you know
+I don't approve of corporal punishment, my dear."
+
+"No more do I, except in extreme cases, but this is one. William, I
+insist on your whipping this very bad little girl."
+
+"I don't care if you whip me," said Diana. She stood bolt upright now,
+but her round, flushed little face began perceptibly to pale.
+
+Mr. Dolman looked at her attentively, then he glanced at his wife, and
+then at the manuscript which lay on his desk. He always hated writing
+his sermons, and, truth to tell, did not write at all good ones; but
+on this special morning his ideas seemed to come a little more rapidly
+than usual--now, of course, he had lost every thought, and the sermon
+was ruined. Besides, he was a kind-hearted man. He thought Diana a
+very handsome little fury, and was rather amused with her than
+otherwise. Had she been left alone with him, he would not have taken
+the least notice of her defiant words. He would have said to himself,
+"She is but a baby, and if I take no notice she will soon cease to
+talk in this very silly manner."
+
+But alas! there was little doubt that Uncle William was very much
+afraid of Aunt Jane, and when Aunt Jane dared him to produce the birch
+rod, there was nothing whatever for it but to comply. He rose and
+walked slowly and very unwillingly across the room. He unlocked the
+door of a big cupboard in the wall, and, poking in his large, soft,
+flabby hand, presently produced what looked in Diana's eyes a very
+terrible instrument. It was a rod, clean, slender, and with, as she
+afterwards expressed it, _temper_ all over it. It flashed through her
+little mind by and by that, if she could really secure this rod, it
+might make a better bow even than the one which she and Apollo had
+hidden in the wood, but she had little time to think of any future use
+for the birch rod at this awful moment. The terrible instrument in
+Uncle William's flabby hand was carried across the room. When she saw
+it approaching her vicinity she uttered a piercing shriek and hid
+herself under the table.
+
+"Come, come; none of this nonsense!" said Mrs. Dolman. "Punished you
+shall be. You must be made to understand that you are to respect your
+elders. Now, then, William, fetch that child out."
+
+"Diana, my dear, you are a very naughty little girl; come here," said
+Mr. Dolman.
+
+Diana would not have minded in the least defying Aunt Jane, but there
+was something in Uncle William's slow tones, particularly in a sort of
+regret which seemed to tremble in his voice, and which Diana felt
+without understanding, which forced her to obey. She scrambled slowly
+out, her hair tumbled over her forehead, her lower lip drooping.
+
+"Suppose I have a little talk with her, Jane; suppose she says she is
+sorry and never does it again," said Mr. Dolman.
+
+"Oh, yes, yes, Uncle William!" said Diana, really terrified for the
+first time in her life. "Yes, I's sossy--I's awfu' sossy, Aunt Jane.
+It's all wight now, Aunt Jane; Diana's sossy."
+
+"You shall be a great deal more sorry before I have done with you,"
+said Mrs. Dolman, who had no idea of letting the culprit off. "Now,
+then, William, do your duty."
+
+"But it's all wight," said Diana, gazing with puzzled eyes up into her
+aunt's face. "I's been a bad girl, but I's sossy; it's all wight, I
+say. Naughty wod, go 'way, naughty wod."
+
+She tried to push the rod out of Mr. Dolman's hand.
+
+"Really, Jane, she is only five years old, and--and a poor little
+orphan, you know."
+
+"Yes," said Diana eagerly, "I's a poor orphan, only a baby, five years
+old, awfu' young, and I's sossy, and it's all wight now. Go 'way, Aunt
+Jane; go 'way, naughty Aunt Jane; I's sossy."
+
+"William," said Mrs. Dolman, "if you refuse to give that child the
+necessary punishment which is to make her a Christian character, I
+shall simply wash my hands of her. Now, then, miss, get on my lap.
+William, do your duty."
+
+Poor Mr. Dolman, pale to the very lips, was forced to comply. Down
+went the rod on the fat little form--shriek after shriek uttered
+Diana. At last, more from terror than pain, she lay quiet on Mrs.
+Dolman's knee. The moment she did so, Mr. Dolman threw the rod on the
+floor.
+
+"It's a horrid business," he said. "I hate corporal punishment. We
+have hurt the child. Here, give her to me."
+
+"Nonsense, William! She is only pretending."
+
+But this was not the case. The fright, joined to the state of
+excitement and heat which she had been previously in, proved too much
+for the defiant little spirit, and Diana had really fainted.
+
+Mrs. Dolman was frightened now, and rushed for cold water. She bathed
+the child's forehead, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing her
+coming to again.
+
+There was not a word of defiance from Diana now, and not a single
+utterance of reproach, but when she looked at Mrs. Dolman there was an
+expression in her black eyes from which this lady absolutely recoiled.
+
+"Uncle William, I's hurted awfu'," whispered Diana. "Let me lie in
+your arms, p'ease, Uncle William."
+
+And so she did for the rest of the morning, and the sermon never got
+written.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+DIANA'S REVENGE.
+
+
+Diana had quite a nice time for the rest of the morning. Uncle William
+had not the least idea of sending her back to the schoolroom.
+
+"It's very hot," he said, "and I feel sleepy. I dare say you do also."
+
+"I do awfu'," answered Diana. "You isn't a bad old man, not at all,"
+she continued. Here she raised her fat hand and stroked his flabby
+cheek. "You hates writing sermons, don't you?"
+
+"Diana," he answered, "I would rather you did not speak about it."
+
+"Oh, I can keep secrets," replied Diana.
+
+"Well, in that case, to be quite frank with you, I do not care for
+writing sermons."
+
+"And I don't care for learning lessons. You didn't mean to sting me so
+bad with that howid wod, did you, Uncle William?"
+
+Mr. Dolman made no reply with his lips, for he did not like to defy
+his wife's authority, but Diana read his thoughts in his rather dull
+blue eyes.
+
+"You is a kind old man," she said; "that is, when you isn't tempted by
+that naughty, howid woman. You is a kind old man by yourself, and you
+shan't be shotted."
+
+"What do you mean by being shotted, Diana?"
+
+But here Diana pursed up her rosy lips and looked rather solemn.
+
+"That's a secret," she answered. "Uncle William, may I have a whole
+holiday to-day?"
+
+"I think so, my dear little girl. I really think that can be managed.
+It is too hot to work--at least, I find it so."
+
+"Then course I does also," answered Diana, clapping her hands. "Shall
+we go out into the garding--what you say?"
+
+"Would you like to?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, more particular in fruit garding. We can eat cherries and
+strawberries, and pelt each other. What you say?"
+
+Mr. Dolman looked out of the open window. He was pretty certain that
+his wife by this time was absent in the village. The clock on the
+mantelpiece pointed to half-past eleven; the early dinner would not be
+ready until one o'clock. It would be cool and pleasant in the fruit
+garden, and it would please poor little Diana, who, in his opinion,
+had been very harshly treated.
+
+"All right," he answered, "but, you know, your aunt is not to be
+told."
+
+He rose from his chair as he spoke, and, stretching out his long hand,
+allowed Diana to curl her fingers round one of his.
+
+"I should wather think Aunt Jane isn't to know," replied Diana,
+beginning to skip in her rapture. "I don't like aunts; I always said
+so. I like uncles; they isn't half bad. You isn't bad, for an old man.
+You is awfu' old, isn't you?"
+
+"Not so very old, Diana. I'm not forty yet."
+
+"Forty! What a ter'ble age!" said Diana. "You must 'member all the
+kings and queens of England; don't you, Uncle William?"
+
+"Not quite all, Diana. Now, I'll just take you through the garden, for
+I think a little fresh air will do you good."
+
+"And if I pop cherries into your mouf it 'll do you good," answered
+Diana. "Oh, we'll have a lovely time!"
+
+So they did, and Mr. Dolman devoutly hoped that there was no one there
+to see. For Diana rapidly recovered her spirits, and picked cherries
+in quantities and pelted her uncle; and then she ran races and incited
+him to follow her, and she picked strawberries, heaps and heaps, and
+got him to sit down on a little bench near the strawberry beds, and
+popped the delicious ripe berries into his mouth; and although he had
+never played before in such a fashion with any little girl, he quite
+enjoyed it, and presently entered the house with his lips suspiciously
+red, and a confession deep down in his heart that he had spent quite a
+pleasant morning.
+
+At dinner-time Diana and her uncle walked into the room, side by side.
+
+"Well, William," said Mrs. Dolman, "I hope you have finished your
+sermon."
+
+"Not quite, my dear," he answered.
+
+"Not kite, my dear," echoed Diana.
+
+Mr. Dolman gave her a half-terrified glance, but she was stanch
+enough, and had not the least idea of betraying the happy morning they
+had spent together.
+
+Towards the end of the meal, her clear little voice might have been
+heard calling to her uncle.
+
+"Uncle William, you wishes me to have a whole holiday; doesn't you?
+You pwomised I is to have a whole holiday to-day."
+
+Now, Mrs. Dolman had felt very uncomfortable about Diana during her
+hot walk to the village that morning. She had not at all minded
+punishing her, but when she saw her lying white and unconscious in her
+arms, she had certainly gone through a terrible moment, and had,
+perhaps, in the whole course of her life, never felt so thankful as
+when the black eyes opened wide, and the little voice sounded once
+again. The look, too, that Diana had given her on this occasion she
+could not quite efface from her recollection. On the whole, therefore,
+she felt inclined to be gentle to the little girl, and when she
+pleaded for a holiday Mrs. Dolman did not say a word to interfere.
+
+"It is a very hot day, and Diana was not quite well this morning,"
+said Mr. Dolman, glancing first at his wife and then at Miss Ramsay,
+"so, all things considered, perhaps--"
+
+"Thank you, uncle," interrupted Diana, "it's kite settled, and you
+isn't half a bad sort of old man. And now, p'ease, I want Orion to
+have a holiday too."
+
+"Oh, that's another matter!" interrupted Miss Ramsay. "Orion is in
+perfect health to-day, and as he is extremely backward for his age--"
+
+"But the heat of the day, and the child being so young," put in Mr.
+Dolman.
+
+"I'd be much happier if I had Orion with me," continued Diana, "and
+it's 'portant my being happy; isn't it, Uncle William? P'ease, Uncle
+William, say that Orion may have a holiday."
+
+"I will give leave if your aunt and Miss Ramsay will," he replied.
+
+"Oh, don't ask me!" said Mrs. Dolman, rising hastily as she spoke. "I
+wash my hands of the pair."
+
+"She washes her hands of the pair, so she don't count," said Diana.
+"Is we to have a holiday, Uncle William? I is, but is Orion, too?
+That's the 'portant part," she added.
+
+"I have no objection," said Miss Ramsay, who thought it best to close
+this scene as quickly as possible.
+
+Orion uttered a shout of rapture, Diana rushed up to him, clutched him
+round the neck, and pulled him from the room.
+
+Nearly wild with glee, they both ran helter-skelter out of the house,
+into the cool shrubbery beyond.
+
+"Now, Orion," said Diana, the moment they found themselves alone, "you
+must cool down and not 'cite yourself too much. We has a ter'ble lot
+of work to do. I has got my holiday through awfu' suff'in'. I was
+beated and killed, and I has come fresh to life again. Course I's in a
+wage, and I's got a holiday for you and for me 'cos we must do our
+work. Wun upstairs, Orion, and bwing down your big straw hat and mine,
+and we'll go and find _them_."
+
+Orion knew perfectly well what "them" meant. He looked hard at Diana,
+saw something in her eyes which she could not suppress, and, with a
+sigh of mingled pleasure and alarm ran off to do her bidding. He
+returned in less than a minute with his large sailor hat stuck on the
+back of his head, and a white sun-bonnet for Diana. Diana's sun-bonnet
+had a black bow at the back and black strings.
+
+"Howid, hot old thing," she said, "I won't wear it. Here, let's hide
+it; I don't mind going with nothing."
+
+"But you must not do that," said Orion, "'cos, if they see you,
+they'll catch you and bring you home. You had best sling it on your
+arm, Di; and then, if they are seen coming, why, you can pop it on
+your head."
+
+"Well, p'w'aps so," answered Diana. "We has an awfu' lot to do this
+afternoon, Orion, 'cos Aunt Jane has got to be shotted, and I's
+thinking of having Miss Wamsay shotted too."
+
+"But do you mean," said Orion, "that you'll really shoot 'em both?"
+
+"Yes," replied Diana. "It has to be done; it's ter'ble, but it must be
+done. What would be the good if they wasn't shotted dead? Yes, they'll
+be shotted, and they'll have a public funeral, and after that we'll
+have a lovely time. Uncle William isn't half bad, and 'stead of doing
+howid lessons every morning we'll just go into the garding and eat
+stwawberries and cherries, and he'll play with us. He'll love to, for
+he don't like writing sermins a bit, and we'll blindfold him and he'll
+wun after us. He's k'ite a nice old man, and if Aunt Jane and Miss
+Wamsay is shotted--why, we'll have a jolly time. Now, let's wun and
+fetch the big bow and arrows."
+
+Orion had always a great respect for his younger sister Diana. "Well,"
+he said, "if you're a grand lady, don't forget that I'm a big giant,
+and that I've got a belt and a sword. There's Simpson, you know; she's
+rather a bother, and I can run my sword into her, if you really wish
+it, Diana."
+
+"I'll think about it," answered Diana. "I don't want to have three
+persons deaded wight off; it might be sort of troublesome. I'll think
+what's best to be done with Simpson. Now, let's start at once."
+
+Mrs. Dolman was under the supposition that the children had gone to
+play in the back garden. The greater part of that somewhat neglected
+domain was laid out in shrubbery, and there were shady trees and
+swings and see-saws, and other sources of amusement for the little
+Dolmans during their brief hours of play. Miss Ramsay also thought
+that Diana and Orion would go to the shrubbery. She went up,
+therefore, to the schoolroom quite contented. Mr. Dolman retired to
+his study, where he went to sleep, and Mrs. Dolman ordered the pony
+chaise, and went off to see a distant parishioner, who was very ill.
+
+The house was wonderfully quiet, and nothing occurred to disturb Mr.
+Dolman in his deep slumber. The manuscript pages which were to be
+covered by his neatly written sermon lay in virgin purity before him.
+In his sleep he dreamt of little Diana, and awoke presently with a
+queer sense of uneasiness with regard to her. But he was by nature a
+very lazy man, and it did not occur to him to inquire as to her
+present whereabouts. "She's a fine little soul," he said to himself.
+"I do wish Jane had not taken such a dislike to her. It is useless to
+drive that sort of child; she must be led, and led gently. 'Pon my
+word, I did have an entertaining morning with the little mite, and
+what a lot of strawberries she made me eat! I wonder Jane did not
+remark at dinner how poor my appetite was--I was dreadfully afraid she
+would do so. Certainly Jane is an active woman, an excellent woman,
+but just a little bit stern."
+
+Meanwhile Diana, holding Orion by the hand, had started running up the
+long avenue. The little pair soon reached the lodge gates. Diana and
+her brother went out through the postern door which was at the side,
+and the next moment found themselves on the highroad. This road led in
+the direction of the shady woods where Apollo had hidden the bow and
+arrows a few weeks ago. It was a pretty road, a couple of miles in
+length, and well shaded by trees, a kind of outgrowth of the forest
+itself. As she was not likely to meet any of the Dolman family on the
+road, Diana did not wear her sun-bonnet, but kept it hanging on her
+arm. "It is nice to be out," she said, as she tripped along. "I love
+hot sun; I love twees; I love blue sky; I love dust."
+
+"I don't," replied Orion; "this road is horrid dusty, and it gets into
+my shoes. I have only my house shoes on, you know, Diana."
+
+"Oh, never mind!" answered Diana. "If you is a giant, you isn't going
+to g'umble. What is the use of g'umbling? You be all wight soon. We'll
+be in the wood soon, and we'll have got the bow and arrows, and then
+we'll have to pwactice shooting. Oh, I say, there's a turnstile and a
+path, and I believe the path leads stwaight to the wood. Let's leave
+the woad and go to the wood that way."
+
+"All right," replied Orion. He always did say "all right" to every
+single thing Diana asked him to do.
+
+The children now found themselves in a shady lane, between high
+hedgerows. It was a pretty lane, only very sultry at this time of day;
+but Diana, seeing butterflies flying about, began to give chase to
+them. She also stopped many times to pick flowers. Orion shouted as he
+ran, and neither of the little pair minded, for a time at least, the
+fact that the sun was pouring on their heads, and that their small
+faces were getting redder and redder.
+
+"I's stweaming down with hotness," said Diana, at last. "I must stop
+a bit or I'll melt away. I don't want to melt till I has shotted my
+enemies. Is you stweaming with hotness, Orion?"
+
+"Yes," said Orion.
+
+They stood still, took out their handkerchiefs, mopped their faces
+vigorously, and then continued their walk. The time seemed to drag all
+of a sudden; they were both very tired. How glad they were when they
+finally reached the friendly shelter of the Super-Ashton woods. Here
+it was deliciously cool, and here Diana, thoroughly exhausted, threw
+herself on her face and hands, and, before Orion could say a word, had
+dropped off into sound sleep. He thought she looked very comfortable,
+and it occurred to him that he could not do better than follow her
+example. Accordingly, he also stretched himself on the ground, and,
+with his head resting on one of Diana's fat little legs, also visited
+the land of dreams. For two hours the children slept. When they awoke
+at last they found that the sun was no longer high in the heavens; it
+was veering rapidly towards the west, and was sending slanting and
+very beautiful rays of light through the wood. Diana rubbed her eyes
+and looked around her.
+
+"I's awfu' hung'y," she said. "How does you feel, Orion?"
+
+"My tumtum's empty," answered Orion.
+
+"We'll pick berries in the wood," said Diana; "that'll sat'sfy us.
+Berries is wight for wunaway sildrens. Do you 'member what we has come
+here for, Orion?"
+
+"To amuse ourselves, I suppose," replied Orion.
+
+Diana gave him an angry flash from her black eyes.
+
+"What a silly little boy you is!" she said. "We has come for most
+solemn, 'portant business. I is Diana--the gweat Diana what lived
+years and years ago--and you is Orion. I is the gweatest huntwess in
+all the world, and I's going to shoot Aunt Jane and Miss Wamsay. Now,
+come 'long, Orion, and let's look for the bow and arrow."
+
+The children searched and searched, and after a long time did actually
+discover the crooked and badly made bow and the blunt arrow.
+
+"Here they is, the darlin's!" cried Diana. "My own bow, my own
+arrow--how I loves 'em! Now, Orion, I is going to shoot you--for
+pwactice, you know, and then you shall shoot me for pwactice too. You
+stand up there against the twee, and I'll make good shots. You don't
+mind if I does hurt you a bit, does you?"
+
+"But I don't want to be shotted down dead," replied Orion.
+
+"No, I won't go as far as that. It's only Aunt Jane and Miss Wamsay
+who is to be shotted dead; but you'll have to be shotted, 'cos I must
+pwactice how to do it."
+
+"But couldn't you practice against the tree without me standing
+there?" said Orion, who had no fancy to have even this very blunt
+arrow directed at his face.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+MOTHER RODESIA.
+
+
+After some very slight persuasion Diana induced Orion to put his back
+up against an oak tree and to allow her to shoot at him. He quickly
+discovered that he had little or no cause for fear. Diana's arrows,
+wielded with all the cunning she possessed, from the crooked bow,
+never went anywhere near him. They fell on the grass and startled the
+birds, and one little baby rabbit ran quite away, and some squirrels
+looked down at the children through the thick trees; but Orion had
+very little chance of getting hurt.
+
+"It's awfu' difficult," said Diana, whose face grew redder and redder
+with her efforts. "If it don't shoot pwoper, Aunt Jane won't get
+shotted to-night. What is to be done? Suppose you was to twy for a
+bit, Orion?"
+
+Orion was only too anxious to accede to this proposition. He took the
+bow and arrow and made valiant efforts, but in the course of his
+endeavors to shoot properly, the badly made bow suddenly snapped in
+two, and Diana, in her discomfiture, and the dashing to the ground of
+her hopes, burst into tears.
+
+"You is bad boy," she cried. "See what you's done. Back we goes to
+slav'ry--to Aunt Jane and Miss Wamsay. You is a bad, howid boy."
+
+"I aren't," said Orion, who had a very easily aroused temper. "It's
+you that's a horrid little girl."
+
+"Come, children; what's all this noise about?" said a voice in their
+ears.
+
+They turned abruptly, forgetting on the instant their own cause of
+quarrel, and saw a tall, swarthy-looking woman coming towards them. By
+this time it was beginning to get dark in the wood, but they could see
+the figure of the woman quite distinctly. She came close to them, and
+then, putting her arms akimbo, surveyed them both with a certain queer
+expression on her face.
+
+"Well, my little dears," she said, "and what may you two be doing in
+this part of the wood?"
+
+"We is pweparing to have our enemies shotted," answered Diana, in a
+calm, but sturdy, voice. "What's your name, gweat big woman?"
+
+"Mother Rodesia Lee," replied the woman, "and I'm fond of little
+children. I like to meet them in the wood. I often come into the wood,
+and when I see little strange children I love 'em at once. I'm a sort
+of mother to all little strangers who get into the woods without
+leave." Here she flashed a pair of black eyes full into Diana's face.
+But Diana met their gaze without a vestige of shrinking, with eyes as
+black.
+
+"We has not come without leave," she said; "you is naughty to talk
+that way. We has got a whole holiday to-day from our Uncle William. He
+didn't say nothing 'bout not going into the woods, and we has been
+here for lots of hours. We is going home now 'cos we is hung'y, and
+'cos my bow has got bwoke. We is awfu' unhappy--we is mis'ble, but we
+is going home. Good-night, woman; don't keep us talkin' any longer."
+
+"I aint going to keep you," said the woman; "only, p'r'aps, if you
+two are so hungry, p'r'aps I could give you a bit of supper."
+
+"Oh, yes, Diana! Do let her," said Orion.
+
+"What sort of supper?" asked Diana, who never allowed herself to be
+taken unawares. "Would it be stwawberries and k'eam, or would it be
+cake and milk?"
+
+"Strawberries and cream, and milk and cake, plenty and plenty," said
+the woman. "And what do you say to delicious soup and honey, p'r'aps?
+Oh, come along, my little loves; I'll give you something fine to eat."
+
+"Do let's go," said Orion; "my tumtum's so empty it feels like a big
+hole."
+
+"I know," said the woman, in a very sympathetic voice. "I have had it
+myself like that at times. It's sort of painful when it's like that;
+aint it?"
+
+"Yes," answered Orion. He went up to his sister, and took her hand.
+"Come along, Di," he said. "Do let this nice woman give us our
+supper."
+
+"You may be sure I won't give it," said the woman, "unless both you
+little children ask me in a very perlite voice. You must say, 'Please,
+Mother Rodesia.'"
+
+"I can't say that keer sort of name," said Diana.
+
+"Well, then, call me mother without anything else. They often does
+that at home--often and often. All the little kids is desp'ate fond of
+me. I dote so on little children. My heart runs over with love to
+'em."
+
+"You would not let a little girl be beated?" said Diana.
+
+"Be beaten?" replied the woman. "No, that I wouldn't; it would be
+downright cruel."
+
+"I was beated to-day," said Diana; "it was an enemy did it, and I'm
+going to have her shotted."
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't do that!" said the woman. "You might be hanged up for
+that."
+
+"What's being hanged up?" asked Diana.
+
+"It's something very bad--I need not tell you now; but there are laws
+in this country, and if you shoot your enemies you are hanged up for
+it. You are not allowed to do those sort of things in this country."
+
+"Yes, I are," answered Diana, "'cos I are the gweat Diana. You
+underland, don't you?"
+
+"I don't know that I do; but, anyhow, I have no time to stand talking
+now. Come along, and you can tell me afterwards. I have got such a
+nice supper--plenty of strawberries and cream, plenty of milk and
+cake."
+
+"Oh, my tumtum," said Orion, pressing his hand to that part of his
+little body with great solemnity.
+
+"How soon will the supper be over? and how soon can we get back home?"
+asked Diana.
+
+"That depends on where your home is, my pretty little dear," said
+Mother Rodesia.
+
+"It's at Wectory, stoopid woman."
+
+"I don't know that place, miss."
+
+"Don't you know my Uncle William Dolman?"
+
+"What! the rector?" said the woman. "And so you come from the
+_Rectory_?" She looked frightened for a moment, and her manner became
+hesitating. "Are you one of the rector's children, my little love?"
+she asked.
+
+"No; he's only an uncle; he belongs to an aunt. I hate aunts. He's not
+a bad sort his own self; but I hate aunts!"
+
+"Then you wouldn't mind if you was to leave her?"
+
+"No. But I can't leave Uncle William, and I can't leave Iris, and I
+can't leave Apollo. We would like some supper 'cos we is hung'y, and
+it's past our tea hour; but then we must go stwaight home."
+
+"All right, my little love; everything can be managed to your
+satisfaction. My son has got a pony and cart, and he'll drive you over
+to the Rectory in a twinkling, after your appetites are satisfied. I
+can't abear to see little children real hungry. You come along with me
+this minute or the supper will be eat up."
+
+Diana hesitated no longer. She carried her broken bow on one arm, and
+she slung her arrow, by a string, round her neck; then, taking one of
+Mother Rodesia's large brown hands, and Orion taking the other, the
+two children trotted deeper into the dark wood. They all three walked
+for over a mile, and the wood seemed to get darker and denser, and the
+children's little feet more and more tired. Orion also began to
+complain that the hole inside him was getting bigger and bigger; but
+Mother Rodesia, now that she had got them to go with her, said very
+few words, and did not take the least notice of their complaints. At
+last, when they suddenly felt that they could not go another step, so
+great was their fatigue, they came out on an open clearing in the
+wood, in the center of which a great big tent was pitched. Several
+smaller tents were also to be seen in the neighborhood of the big one,
+and a lot of children, very brown and ugly, and only half-dressed,
+were lying about on the grass, squabbling and rolling over one
+another. Some dogs also were with the children, and an old woman, a
+good deal browner than Mother Rodesia, was sitting at the door of the
+big tent.
+
+As soon as ever the children saw the little strangers, they scrambled
+to their feet with a cry, and instantly surrounded Mother Rodesia and
+Orion and Diana.
+
+"Back, all of you, you little rascallions," said Mother Rodesia;
+"back, or I'll cuff you. Where's Mother Bridget? I want to speak to
+her?"
+
+When Mother Rodesia said this the old woman at the door of the
+principal tent rose slowly and came to meet them.
+
+"Well, Rodesia," she said, "and so you has found these little
+strangers in the wood? What purty little dears!"
+
+"Yes, I have found them," said Mother Rodesia, "and I have brought
+them home to supper. After supper we are to send them home. They hail
+from the Rectory. Is Jack anywhere about?"
+
+"I saw him not half an hour back," said the old woman; "he had just
+brought in a fat hare, and I popped it into the pot for supper. You
+can smell it from here, little master," she said, stooping suddenly
+down and letting her brown, wrinkled, aged face come within an inch or
+two of Orion's. He started back, frightened. He had never seen anyone
+so old nor so ugly before. Even the thought of the strawberries and
+cream, and the milk and cake, could not compensate for the look on
+Mother Bridget's face.
+
+Diana, however, was not easily alarmed.
+
+"The stuff in the pot smells vedy good," she said, sniffing. "I could
+shoot lots of hares, 'cos I is the gweatest huntwess in all the world.
+I is Diana. Did you ever hear of Diana, ugly old woman?"
+
+"You had best not call Mother Bridget names," said Mother Rodesia,
+giving Diana a violent shake as she spoke.
+
+But the little girl leaped lightly away from her.
+
+"I always call peoples just what I think them," she said; "I wouldn't
+be the gweat Diana if I didn't. I has not got one scwap of fear in me,
+so you needn't think to come wound me that way. I do think she is
+awfu' ugly. She's uglier than Aunt Jane, what I _used_ to think was
+the ugliest person in the world. You had best not twy to fwighten me,
+for it can't be done."
+
+"What a spirited little missy it is!" said Mother Bridget, gazing with
+admiration at Diana. "Why, now, she is a fine little child. I'm sure,
+dearie, I don't mind whether you call me ugly or not; it don't matter
+the least bit in the world to me. And how old may you be, my little
+love?"
+
+"I is five," answered Diana. "I's a well-grown girl, isn't I?"
+
+"That you are, missy, and hungry, too, I guess. You shall have some
+beautiful hare soup."
+
+"I don't want hare soup," answered Diana; "I want what that woman
+pwomised--stwawberries and k'eam, and milk and cake--and then,
+perhaps, a _little_ soup. I don't want soup to begin."
+
+"Well," said the old woman, "we hasn't got no strawberries, nor no
+milk, nor no cake--we are very poor folks here, missy. A little lady
+must be content with what she can get, unless, my dear, you would like
+to pay 'andsome for it."
+
+"I has nothing to pay with," answered Diana. "I would, if I had the
+money, but I hasn't got none. I's sossy," she continued, looking full
+at Mother Rodesia as she spoke, "that you big, big woman told such
+awfu' lies. But, now that we has come, we'll take a little hare soup.
+Orion, you stand near me, and don't any of you dirty peoples come up
+too close, 'cos I can't abear dirty peoples. I is the gweatest shot
+in all the world, and Orion, he's a giant."
+
+Two or three men had approached at that moment, and they all began to
+laugh heartily when poor little pale Orion was called a giant.
+
+"You can see him in the sky sometimes on starful nights," continued
+Diana, "and he has got a belt and a sword."
+
+"Well, to be sure, poor little thing," said Mother Rodesia, "she must
+be a bit off her head, but she's a fine little spirited thing for all
+that. I think she would just about do. You come along here for a
+minute, Jack, and let me talk to you."
+
+The man called Jack moved a few steps away, and Mother Rodesia
+followed him. They began to talk together in low and earnest voices.
+At first the man shook his head as he listened to Mother Rodesia, but
+by degrees he began to agree with some suggestion she was making, and
+finally he nodded emphatically, and at last was heard to say:
+
+"It shall be done."
+
+Meanwhile Diana, with one arm clasped protectingly round Orion's
+waist, was partaking of the soup which old Mother Bridget had ladled
+into a little bowl. Orion was provided with a similar bowl of the very
+excellent liquid. The soup contained meat and vegetables, pieces of
+bread and quantities of good gravy, and, as Diana and Orion were very
+hungry indeed, they ate up their portions, while the gypsy children
+clustered round them, coming closer and closer each minute. Diana's
+eyes, however, were as black as theirs, and her manner twice as
+spirited. She would not allow them to approach too close.
+
+"You had best not take lib'ties," she said. "I is a gweat lady; I is
+Diana, the biggest shot in all the world."
+
+"Oh, lawk! hark to her," cried one of the boys. "I wonder if you could
+shoot me, little miss?"
+
+"Shoot you, boy?" cried Diana. "That I could. You would be shotted
+down dead if I was to take up my bow and use my arrow."
+
+At last the children had finished the contents of their bowls, and
+rose solemnly to their feet.
+
+"Now," said Diana, going up to Mother Bridget, "I are vedy obliged to
+you; you has been kind; you has gived us good supper. We'll 'scuse
+'bout the stwawberries and k'eam and the milk and cake, 'cos you
+didn't know that the other big woman told lots of lies. And now,
+p'ease, we are going home. We isn't glad to go home, but we is going.
+P'ease tell the man to put pony to cart, and dwive us home as fast as
+he can."
+
+"Yes, indeed, my little dear," said Mother Bridget; "there aint one
+moment to be lost. You just come inside the tent, though, first for a
+minute."
+
+"I don't want to go inside that dirty tent," said Diana; "I don't like
+dirt. You had best not twy to take lib'ties. I is Diana, and this is
+Orion, and we is both very big peoples indeed."
+
+At that moment Mother Rodesia came forward.
+
+"They need not go into the tent," she said to the old woman; "I can
+manage better than that. Just you help lift 'em into the cart; it's a
+dark night, and there'll be no stars, and we can get off as far
+as----" Here she dropped her voice, and Diana could not hear the next
+words.
+
+"I'm going with them," she continued, "and Jack will drive. They are
+exactly the kind of children Ben wants. Now then, little missy, jump
+in. Ah, here you are! You'll be glad of the drive, won't you?"
+
+"When will we get back to Wectory?" asked Diana.
+
+"In about an hour, missy."
+
+"Come 'long, Orion," said Diana, "you sit next me. Hold my hand, poor
+little boy, case you is fwightened. Diana never was fwightened; that
+isn't her."
+
+Orion scrambled also into the cart, and the two children huddled up
+close together. Mother Rodesia got in with them, and sat down at the
+opposite side, with her knees huddled up close to her chin. The man
+called Jack mounted the driver's seat, whacked the pony with two or
+three hard touches of his whip and away they bounded.
+
+The night was very dark, and the cart rattled roughly, and jolted and
+banged the children about, but Orion felt comforted and contented
+after his good supper, and Diana's fat little arm felt warm round his
+neck, and soon his head rested on her shoulder and he was sound
+asleep. Not so little Diana. She sat wide awake and gazed hard at the
+woman, whose dark eyes were seen to flash now and then as the party
+jolted over the roads.
+
+"Tell him to go k'icker," said Diana. "I must get home afore Uncle
+William goes to bed. Aunt Jane might beat me again, and I don't want
+to be beated. Tell him to go k'icker, Mother 'Odesia."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+UNCLE BEN.
+
+
+Mother Rodesia was most kind and obliging. The pony was whipped up,
+and now it seemed to Diana's excited fancy that they quite flew over
+the road. She felt for her broken bow, which she had laid by her side,
+then she cuddled up closer to Orion, and whispered to herself:
+
+"Mother 'Odesia's a good woman when all's said, done. She has gived us
+supper and soon we'll be home; and Uncle William won't be in bed, and
+he won't let c'uel Aunt Jane beat me. It's all wight; I may just as
+well go to s'eep, 'cos I is drefful s'eepy, and it's late. I wonder if
+the night will be starful, and if I'll see Orion up in the sky.
+Anyhow, there's no stars at pwesent, and I had best go to s'eep."
+
+So the little girl cuddled herself up close to her brother, and soon
+the big dark eyes were shut, and she was happy in the land of dreams.
+
+When this happened, Mother Rodesia softly and stealthily changed her
+position. She stretched out her hand and touched Jack on his arm. This
+seemed to have been an arranged signal, for he drew up the pony at
+once.
+
+They were still under the shelter of the great woods which extended
+for miles over that part of the country.
+
+"We had best begin to change their clothes now," said Mother Rodesia.
+"They are both as sound as nails, and I don't want the clothes to be
+seen by Ben, for he's safe to pawn 'em, and if he pawns 'em the police
+may get 'em, and then the children may be traced, and we may get into
+hot water."
+
+"But, mother," said Jack, "do you dare to disturb them now when they
+are asleep? That young 'un with the black eyes is such a fury; seemed
+to me as if she was never goin' off."
+
+"She's all right now," said Mother Rodesia. "She's just dead tired. Of
+course, if I had had my way, I'd have put a little of that syrup into
+their soup--Mother Winslow's Syrup--but Mother Bridget wouldn't have
+it. She took quite a fancy to the little gal, and all on account of
+her firing up and calling her names."
+
+Jack laughed.
+
+"I never seed sech a little 'un," he said, "sech a sparky little
+piece. Ben's in rare luck. I'd like to keep her for a sort of little
+sister of my own--she'd amuse me fine."
+
+"Well, well, you aint a-goin' to have her," said Mother Rodesia. "I'm
+goin' to ask thirty shillin's for her and thirty shillin's for the
+boy. That'll be three pund--not a bad night's work; eh, Jack?"
+
+"No," replied Jack; but then he continued after a pause, "You'll tell
+him, won't you, mother, to be good to the children. I wouldn't like to
+think that little 'un was treated cruel, and her sperit broke--she has
+got a fine sperit, bless her; I wouldn't like it to be broke. I don't
+care for the little boy. There's nothing in 'im."
+
+"Well, stop talking now," said Mother Rodesia. "They must be missed at
+the Rectory by this time, and they'll be sendin' people out to look
+for 'em. It's a rare stroke of luck that nobody knows that we are
+camping in the Fairy Dell, for if they did they would be sure to come
+straight to us, knowin' that poor gypsies is always _supposed_ to
+kidnap children. Now, Jack, you just hold the pony as still as you
+can, and I'll slip the clothes off the pair of 'em."
+
+Little Diana, in her deep sleep, was not at all disturbed when stout
+hands lifted her away from Orion, and when she lay stretched out flat
+on a large lap. One by one her clothes were untied and slipped off her
+pretty little body, and some very ugly, sack-like garments substituted
+in their place. Diana had only a dim feeling in her dreams that mother
+was back again, and was undressing her, and that she was very glad to
+get into bed. And when the same process of undressing took place on
+little Orion, he was still sounder asleep and still more indifferent
+to the fact that he was turned sometimes over on his face, and
+sometimes on his back, and that his pretty, dainty clothes, which his
+own mother had bought for him, were removed, never to be worn by him
+again.
+
+"Now, then," said Mother Rodesia, when she had laid the two children
+back again upon the straw, "when they awake, and if Ben is not there,
+we must dye their faces with walnut juice; but we can't begin that
+now, for they are sure to howl a good bit, and if folks are near, they
+will hear them and come to the rescue. Jack, have you got that spade
+'andy?"
+
+The man, without a word, lifted a portion of the straw in the cart,
+and took out a spade.
+
+"That's right," said the woman. "You make a deep hole under that tree,
+and put all the clothes in. Bury 'em well. I'll rescue 'em and pawn
+'em myself when we go to the West of England in the winter, but for
+the present they must stay under ground. See, I'll wrap 'em up in this
+good piece of stout brown paper, and then perhaps they won't get much
+spoiled."
+
+Jack took the little bundle (there were the soft, pretty socks, the
+neat little shoes, even the ribbon with which Diana's hair was tied),
+and twisted them all up into a bundle. Then his mother wrapped the
+bundle in the piece of brown paper, and gave it to him to bury.
+
+This being done the pony was once more whipped up, and the cart
+proceeded at a rapid rate. They were now on the highroad, and going in
+the direction of a large town. The town was called Maplehurst. It was
+fifteen miles away from the Rectory of Super-Ashton.
+
+Little Diana slept on and on, and the sun was beginning to send faint
+rays of light into the eastern sky, when at last she opened her eyes.
+
+"Where is I?" she said with a gasp.
+
+"With me, my little dear; you are as safe as child can be," said
+Mother Rodesia. "Don't you stir, my love; you are just as good as you
+was in your little bed. See, let me lay this rug over you."
+
+She threw a piece of heavy tarpaulin, lined with cloth, over the child
+as she spoke.
+
+Diana yawned in a comfortable manner.
+
+"Isn't we at Wectory yet?" she asked.
+
+"No, dear; the pony went lame, and we had to stop for a good bit on
+the road; but if you like to go to sleep again, you'll be there when
+next you wake."
+
+"I isn't s'eepy any longer," said Diana, sitting bolt upright in the
+cart. "Oh, what a funny dwess I has on. Where is my nice b'ack dwess,
+and my pinafore, and my shoes and socks?"
+
+"Well, dear," said Mother Rodesia, "you were so dead asleep, and the
+pony got that lame we couldn't stir hand nor foot, so I thought it
+best to put a little nightdress on you."
+
+"But what a funny one," said Diana, gazing with curious admiration at
+the stout, sack-like garment.
+
+"It's the best poor Mother Rodesia has, my dear. I'm awful poor, you
+know."
+
+"Is you?" asked Diana.
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+"And does you mind?" asked Diana.
+
+"Yes, dear; 'cos when people are poor they can't get bread to eat, and
+then they can't get nice clothes like you, little missy. You are a
+very rich little gal; aint you, little dear?"
+
+"My faver's awfu' rich," said Diana. "We used to live in a most
+beaut'ful house, and we had a beaut'ful garding to play in. We had
+animals there--lots and lots. Woman, is you fond of animals--mices and
+that sort?"
+
+"Love--I just adores 'em."
+
+"Then you _is_ a nice sort," answered Diana. She left her place by
+Orion and crept up close to the woman.
+
+"May I sit on your lap?" she said.
+
+Mother Rodesia made a place for her at once.
+
+"Put your arm wound me, p'ease; I is still a teeny bit s'eepy."
+
+"You lay your head against my breast, little love, and you'll go off
+into a beautiful sleep, and I'll keep you nice and warm, for hot as
+the days are, it's chilly in the mornin's."
+
+"When my faver comes home I'll ask him to give you lots of money,
+Mother 'Odesia," said Diana.
+
+She closed her eyes as she spoke, and in another moment was once again
+slumbering peacefully.
+
+When little Diana next opened her eyes all was completely changed. She
+was no longer in the funny cart with the straw. Her nightdress was
+still on her, it is true, and there were neither shoes nor stockings
+on her bare feet; but she and Orion found themselves in a dirty room
+with a nasty smell. Both children looked at one another, and both felt
+cold and frightened. The broad daylight was lighting up the room, and
+Diana could perceive that there was scarcely any furniture in it. Her
+bow was also gone, and her arrow no longer hung round her neck. She
+clutched a firm hold of Orion's hand.
+
+"Don't you be afeared, Orion," she said. "Don't you forget you is a
+big giant. Don't you forget you has got your belt and your sword."
+
+"But I haven't, that's just it," replied Orion. "Diana, I aren't a
+giant, and I'm awfu' frightened."
+
+"Where can us be?" said Diana. "What a keer room! But there's one good
+comfort; there isn't no aunts anywheres 'bout."
+
+"I can't remember nothing," said Orion. "Why aren't we in bed? It's
+too early to get up. How have we got into this horrid little room?"
+
+"I don't know more nor you," said Diana, "only I do know that we has
+got to be bwave. Don't you forget, Orion, that mother gived you your
+name, and that you is a giant, whether you likes it or not. Don't you
+forget that, and I won't forget that I is Diana, and that mother gived
+me my name too, and that I is the bwavest huntwess in all the world."
+
+"But you haven't got a bow and arrow," said Orion.
+
+Diana was silent for a moment.
+
+"Anyhow," she said, with a little shake, "I isn't going to be
+fwightened. Let's sit close together, and let's think."
+
+"Why can't we open that door and go out?" said Orion. "Why should we
+stay in this horrid room?"
+
+"'Cos our foots is bare," said Diana.
+
+"But don't let's mind that," said Orion; "let's go to the door and
+open it, and let's run back to Rectory. I'd rather have Aunt Jane and
+Miss Ramsay than this horrid room--and oh, Diana! my tumtum has got a
+big hole in it again."
+
+"And mine has too," answered Diana. "I could eat a whole loaf, that I
+could."
+
+"Hush!" whispered Orion; "somebody's coming. Oh, come close to me,
+Diana!"
+
+"Now, you isn't to be fwightened, little boy," said Diana. "I is near
+you, and I isn't fwightened of nobody."
+
+At that moment the door was flung open, and Mother Rodesia,
+accompanied by a tall, dark man, with a scowling face, came in.
+
+"Mornin', little dears," said Mother Rodesia. "Now I have got
+something to say to you."
+
+"P'ease, where's Wectory?" asked Diana.
+
+"You are not going there just for the present, my dear. This man, Ben
+is his name--you told me last night that you were fond of uncles--you
+can call 'im Uncle Ben; he's very kind and very, very fond of
+children."
+
+"Oh, yes! I'm very fond of children," said the man. He spoke in a
+gruff voice which seemed to come right from the bottom of his chest.
+
+"And as you don't like aunts," continued Mother Rodesia, "I have
+brought an uncle. You can call 'im Uncle Ben; and if you do just what
+he says, why, you'll be as happy as the day is long."
+
+"Look here," said the man; "you stop your talk, Rodesia. Before I
+makes myself an uncle to these kids I must see what sort they are. You
+stand up along here, little gal, and let me examine you."
+
+Diana scrambled instantly to her feet and went straight up to the man.
+She gave him a keen glance from her piercing black eyes.
+
+"What wight has you to speak to me in that sort of style?" she said.
+"You isn't my uncle, and I isn't going to have nothing to do with
+you."
+
+"There," said Mother Rodesia; "did I say one word too much for her?"
+
+The man burst into a loud laugh.
+
+"No, that you didn't," he said; "and aint you frightened of me,
+missy?"
+
+"Fwightened?" replied Diana; "that aren't me." She turned her back and
+strode back to Orion.
+
+"'Member you is a giant," she said, in a whisper; "and giants never is
+fwightened."
+
+The man laughed again.
+
+"Well, they are a queer little pair," he said. "I tell you what it is,
+Rodesia Lee; I'll give you a pund apiece for 'em. Come, now; not a
+penny more."
+
+Diana stared very hard indeed when these words were uttered. She had
+not the faintest idea what a "pund apiece" meant. Mother Rodesia
+seemed to consider.
+
+"And you may think yourself in rare luck," continued the man; "for,
+remember, if it is known--" Here he walked to the farthest end of the
+room, and Mother Rodesia followed him.
+
+"You had best close up the bargain and be quick about it," he said;
+"for not one penny more will you drag out of me. I'll give you a gold
+sov. for each of 'em, and that's as much as I can manage. They will
+take a sight of training, and then there's the risk."
+
+"Very well," said Mother Rodesia, "I suppose I had best do it; only
+they are worth more. There's a fortune in that little gal, and
+whenever you are tired of her, why, there's a rich father to fall back
+on. I spect he would give a sight of money to have her back again.
+Very well, we'll agree; only, if ever you do get a fortune out of that
+child, Ben Holt, you might remember poor Rodesia Lee."
+
+The man laughed and patted Mother Rodesia on her shoulder. Then the
+pair left the room, locking the door behind them.
+
+"What does it all mean?" said Orion.
+
+"I don't know," said Diana; "but I aren't fwightened; that aren't me."
+Her little voice shook as she spoke, and she had great difficulty in
+keeping the tears back from her big, black eyes.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+GREASED LIGHTNING.
+
+
+At the end of half an hour the door of the small room was again
+unlocked, and a woman with a thin, pale face, and somewhat frightened
+manner, appeared. She carried a tray in her hand, which contained two
+little bowls of porridge, and a small jug of milk. "So you are the two
+young 'uns," she said. "Well, you had best be quick and eat up your
+breakfast. Uncle Ben is going to have a rehearsal, and he wants you to
+see what they are all doing."
+
+"We hasn't got no Uncle Ben," said Diana; "don't be silly, woman.
+What's your name?" she added.
+
+"I'm generally called Aunt Sarah," was the reply; "and now, look here,
+you two little mites; I'll be good to you if you'll let me. I'm real
+sorry you has come, and it's against my wish, you remember that. Now,
+eat up your breakfasts, both of you. Uncle Ben, he don't know that I
+have brought you porridge and milk; but children as young as you are
+can't eat coarse food. Sup up your porridge, my dears."
+
+"Thank you very much indeed, Aunt Sawah," said Diana, slipping down
+from her seat close to Orion on the bench, and preparing to attack her
+breakfast. "P'w'aps," she continued, as she put great mouthfuls of
+porridge into her mouth, "when we has finished this nice bekfus you'll
+take us back to Wectory? You see, you isn't our aunt weally, not by no
+manner of wights, and Uncle Ben isn't our uncle, and so we ought not
+to stay here; and if we go back to Wectory, why, Uncle William, what's
+our weal uncle, p'w'aps he would pay you money, if it's money you
+wants."
+
+"Yes; it's true enough, it is money we want," replied the woman; "but,
+my dear," she added, the tears springing to her eyes, "I can't take
+you back to no Rectory. You have just got to stay here and to watch
+Uncle Ben when he's going through his rehearsal, and then this
+afternoon we are going on a very long journey, and you are coming with
+us--and oh, I forgot to say that, when you have finished your
+breakfast, I must put something on your faces."
+
+"Something on our faces?" said Diana.
+
+"Yes, my little love; it has to be done. But when we get to another
+part of the country I'll wash the ugly stuff off again, and you'll
+look as fair and pretty as you do now. It won't make much difference
+after all to you, little missy," she added, gazing fixedly at Diana,
+"'cos you are very dark by nature. Yes, I had a little kid of my own,
+a little gal, and she wasn't unlike you--no, not by no means. I'll be
+kind to you for her pretty sake, my little dear. Now, eat your
+breakfast, and be quick, the pair of you."
+
+"Has your little girl what was like me got deaded?" asked Diana, in a
+very thoughtful and earnest voice.
+
+"She is dead, my dear. Yes, yes, she is dead," replied the woman. "Eat
+up your breakfast now; I have no time to answer questions."
+
+Orion did not need a second bidding; he had already plunged his spoon
+into the porridge, and soon his little bowl was empty, and also the
+jug of milk. Diana also finished her breakfast, but more thoughtfully.
+She was a wonderfully wise little girl for her tender years, and at
+the present moment she was dreadfully puzzled to know what to do. She
+was quite shrewd enough to guess that Mother Rodesia was a bad sort of
+woman, and that she, Diana, had done wrong ever to trust herself to
+her. Uncle Ben, too, in spite of her brave words, terrified her more
+or less. All things considered, therefore, she would not have been at
+all sorry to find herself back again at the Rectory, with Miss Ramsay
+to teach her, and Aunt Jane hovering in the background. "Isn't it
+funny, we has got our nightdwesses on?" she said suddenly. "Woman,
+it's not pwoper to have our bekfus in our nightdwesses; and these are
+such keer nightdwesses, not at all what they ought to be. Our mother
+would not like us to be dwessed in this sort of style. Can you get our
+day dwesses, p'ease, for us to put on, Aunt Sawah?"
+
+"No; I can't get the dresses you wore yesterday," replied Aunt Sarah;
+"but for all that you shall wear a very pretty little frock. I have
+got a blue one for you with white wings. What do you say to that?"
+
+"B'ue, with white wings?" echoed Diana. "It sounds pwetty; but I must
+have a b'ack bow, p'ease, woman, 'cos our mother has gone away to the
+angels, you underland; and when mothers go to the angels little girls
+wear b'ack bows--at least, that's what Iris says. Oh, I say, Orion,"
+suddenly concluded Diana; "what is we to do without Iris? She is our
+little mother now. You underland what I mean; doesn't you, Orion?"
+
+The only answer Orion made was to fling himself flat down on the floor
+and begin to howl with all his might.
+
+"You had best not do that, young sir," said Aunt Sarah, "for if Uncle
+Ben hears he'll be awful angry. He is a terrible man when he's
+angered. It's only right I should tell you the solemn truth, you poor
+little kids."
+
+"We isn't kids; we is sildrens," said Diana.
+
+"Well, you poor little children, then. Now, young master, if you'll
+take my advice, you'll do exactly what I tell you. I'm going to be a
+friend to you and to your little sister. I'll give you, by hook or by
+crook, the very best food I can get, and the prettiest dresses to
+wear, and I'll see that my husband, Ben Holt, aint rough to you, and
+I'll see, also, that Molly and Kitty and Susan, the circus girls, are
+kind to you, and that Tom, the clown, behaves as he ought; but I can
+do nothing if you won't obey me. And if you begin by angering Uncle
+Ben, why, it'll be all up with you, my little dears."
+
+"I don't know what you mean by all up," answered Diana, her eyes
+sparkling brightly; "and what's more, I don't care. But I'd like to
+know if you has a weal live clown about, 'cos I like clowns and I love
+pant'mimes. I went to a pant'mime 'fore mother was took to the
+angels."
+
+"Our show is something like a pantomime, and yet it's different,"
+replied Aunt Sarah. "Now then, missy, stop talking, for we has no time
+to waste. Come over here and let me put this nice stuff on your face.
+It won't hurt you one little bit--it's just to make you look a little
+browner than you do now, you and little master. Now, come along here,
+and let me do it at once. Afterwards, I'll dress you in real pretty
+things. You, little missy, shall wear some of my own child's
+clothes--the little Rachel what died. My heart broke when she died,
+missy, and if I didn't mean to be real kind to you I wouldn't put her
+pretty little dress on you, that I wouldn't."
+
+Orion stepped back in some alarm when he saw the woman stirring
+something very brown and ugly in a tin can.
+
+"I don't want that horrid stuff on my face," he said.
+
+"But you must have it, master; if you don't, Uncle Ben will use you
+dreadful," said the woman. "Now, missy, tell your little brother to be
+guided by me. If he don't do what I tell 'im he'll suffer, and I won't
+be able to help either of you."
+
+"Don't be silly, Orion," said Diana. "What do a little bwown stuff
+matter? And Aunt Sawah's wather a nice sort of woman. I'll do what you
+wish, Aunt Sawah." She came up as she spoke, pushed her black, tangled
+hair away from her charming little face, and allowed Aunt Sarah to
+cover it with the walnut juice. "It's sort of sticky, and it don't
+smell nice," said the little girl; "but I spects you can't help it. I
+spects you is kind about your heart; isn't you?"
+
+"Yes, my little dear; I try to be," said the woman. "Now, call your
+brother over, and let me dye his face and neck and little hands."
+
+"Come 'long, Orion," said Diana; "don't be silly."
+
+"You do look so ugly, Diana," answered Orion.
+
+"Well, what do it matter?" said Diana. "I has to p'ease Aunt Sawah;
+she's a nice sort of a woman. I wather like her."
+
+Orion, who had always submitted to Diana, submitted again now as a
+matter of course. The walnut dye was not pleasant; he felt quite
+sticky and uncomfortable, but he allowed it to cover his little face
+and his white neck and hands.
+
+The dye dried very quickly, and the children looked as like two
+gypsies as possible when they surveyed one another.
+
+"Now, I'm going to fetch the clothes," said Aunt Sarah.
+
+She left the room, returning in a very few moments with a pretty
+spangled suit of knickerbockers, which she put on Orion, and which
+quite enchanted him.
+
+"If you are a good boy," she continued, "you won't dislike the life
+with us. I wonder if you are fond of horses?"
+
+"Horses!" said Orion, his eyes sparkling. "Rather!"
+
+"Well, Uncle Ben will teach you to ride, and to jump, and to do all
+kinds of things. Now, just stand back, and let me dress little missy,
+for Ben is waiting to begin the rehearsal. Missy, you let me put on
+your dress."
+
+Diana was only too willing to be attired in a flimsy skirt of white
+tarlatan, which stuck out from her little figure; she also wore wings
+on her shoulders, and her black hair was rendered gay with bows of
+crimson ribbon. She felt quite excited and pleased with herself.
+
+"I spects I look awfu' pwetty," she said. "I'd like to see my own self
+in a looking-glass. Has you got a looking-glass in your pocket, Aunt
+Sawah?"
+
+"Yes, dear; a small one."
+
+Aunt Sarah whipped her hand into a deep pocket and took out a glass.
+Diana surveyed herself critically in its depths.
+
+"I like my dwess," she said, "but I don't like this howid bwown stuff
+on my face."
+
+"Never mind, dear; bear it for the present. When we get down to the
+southwest of England it shall all be taken off; but up here Uncle Ben
+thinks it best for you both to have it on."
+
+"Why?" asked Diana.
+
+Aunt Sarah was puzzled for a moment.
+
+"'Cos it's wholesome," she said at last.
+
+"And isn't it wholesome in the southwest of England?" asked Diana.
+
+Aunt Sarah was puzzled how to reply. Diana, who was gazing at her very
+intently, burst into a clear, childish laugh.
+
+"Do you know you _is_ a humbug?" she said. "You know perfect well why
+you is using that. You want to hide us, that's why. What a silly old
+Aunt Sawah you is!"
+
+Before Aunt Sarah could make a suitable reply, the loud voice of Uncle
+Ben was heard in the distance.
+
+"Come, Sarah," he called, "bring those kids along. I can't be kept
+waiting another minute."
+
+"Now then, dears," said Aunt Sarah, "I'll take you to the circus."
+
+"The circus!" cried Diana. "Is we going to a circus? I love 'em!"
+
+"Well, my dear, you are not only going to _see_ a circus, but you are
+going soon to be part of a circus. Uncle Ben owns one; it's a sort of
+traveling circus. He takes it about with him from one part of the
+country to another. You'll be part of the circus in the future, little
+miss."
+
+"And may I wide horses?" asked Diana.
+
+"Surely, my dear, and perhaps other animals as well. Oh, never fear!
+you'll be taught all kinds of queer things. You'll have quite a nice
+time if you keep on the buttered side of Uncle Ben."
+
+"The buttered side! That must be g'easy," said Diana.
+
+"Well, you keep on it, miss. If he's kind to you, why, all will be
+right, and, for my part, I'll see you want for nothing."
+
+"I do believe," said Diana, her eyes sparkling; she turned as she
+spoke and clasped one of Orion's hands--"I do weally b'lieve this is
+better nor aunt's. Do come 'long, Orion; I always did love circuses."
+
+Aunt Sarah led the children down a long, narrow passage, and then
+across an open court, until presently they found themselves inside the
+entrance of a huge circular tent. Here seats were arranged for a crowd
+of people, all of which were, of course, empty at present; but the
+whole of the center of the tent was occupied by a wide arena covered
+with sand. In the middle of this space stood Uncle Ben. He had a big
+whip in his hand, and looked very fierce and terrible.
+
+"There you are at last, Sarah!" he called out. "Oh, and there are the
+kids!" He stepped forward as he spoke. "Now, little missy," he said,
+looking full at Diana, "what would you say if I was to put you on top
+of a horse's back? You wouldn't be frightened, would you?"
+
+"No," replied Diana.
+
+"I don't believe you would. I believe you are a plucky little girl.
+Well, I'd just as lief give you a lesson straight away, for you'll
+have to take your part in the show in a week from now. We'll let her
+ride round the arena on Greased Lightning; eh, Sarah?"
+
+"Oh, I wouldn't! Not on that 'orse," said the woman. She clasped her
+hands imploringly together. "Remember, Ben," she continued, speaking
+in a timorous voice, and her color coming and going, "remember that
+Greased Lightning is a very wicious sort of 'orse, and this is only a
+little child. Has you ever been on a 'orse's back afore, little love?"
+
+"Sometimes," replied Diana. "And my faver said when I got older he
+would give me a horse of my own to wide. He said I was too young yet,
+you know; but I aren't fwightened," she added. "I don't mind a bit
+sitting on the back of G'eased Lightning. But what a funny name!"
+
+"Right you are!" said the man. "You shall have your ride. I can see
+that you have plenty of pluck, young 'un. Come along, then, little
+missy. Tom, you go and bring out Greased Lightning this minute."
+
+A tall lad, with red hair and a cast in one eye, now made his
+appearance in the arena of the circus. At Uncle Ben's words he turned
+abruptly, disappeared through a curtain, and a moment later
+re-entered, leading a very graceful chestnut horse by a bridle. The
+creature pawed the ground as it walked, and arched its stately neck.
+
+"You had best have a saddle, guv'nor," said the boy.
+
+"None of your sauce, Tom. The young 'un must learn to ride bare-back,
+and at once. I'll walk round with her the first time. Now then,
+missy."
+
+Diana was clapping her hands; her eyes were blazing with excitement.
+
+"It's kite 'licious," she said, jumping up and down. "I aren't
+fwightened," she continued; "that aren't me."
+
+The next moment she was lifted on to the back of Greased Lightning. In
+all probability the horse which bore that title had never carried
+such a feather-weight as little Diana before. Uncle Ben began to lead
+him round and round the circus. Diana sat perfectly upright; she did
+not attempt even to clutch a hair of his mane. Uncle Ben praised her.
+
+"You are a plucky little missy," he said. "Why, you'll do fine. Now,
+do you think you can stand on the horse?"
+
+"Course," replied Diana. "What's foots for, you silly man, if not to
+stand? You is silly, Uncle Ben."
+
+"I never!" said Uncle Ben, bursting out laughing. "Well, missy, if I
+am silly, you has got a lot of sauce. 'What's good for the goose is
+good for the gander.'"
+
+"That sounds howid vulgar, and I don't underland," answered Diana, in
+a dignified tone. "I'll stand on my two foots if you'll hold G'eased
+Lightning k'ite still."
+
+"Woe! stay quiet this minute," said the man to the horse. The pretty
+creature instantly obeyed, and little Diana, nothing loath, scrambled
+on to her small feet. The horse moved gently forward, and the little
+child managed to keep her balance. She went the entire round of the
+circus two or three times in this position, and then Uncle Ben, saying
+that she was a very fine little creature, and would answer his
+purposes to a nicety, lifted her down in the height of good humor.
+
+"Take care of her," he said, bringing her back to Aunt Sarah; "there's
+a fortune in her, little mite that she is. She need not do any more
+to-day. Why, I'll have her trained in no time when we get down to the
+west of England. She'll do her work beautiful, and will take the house
+by storm. Now then, master, it's your turn. We must have a pair of
+you, you know--a boy and a girl. It's the very thing to draw crowds in
+the west."
+
+But alas! Orion, notwithstanding his brave name, was made of very
+different stuff from his sister. He felt fear, where Diana, in all
+truth, did not know the meaning of the word. He shivered visibly when
+he was lifted on to Greased Lightning's back. Diana called out to him
+in an encouraging and cheery voice.
+
+"Don't forget you is a giant," she said. "Think, of yous sword and
+yous belt. Now then, gee up! pretty horse; I only wishes I was widing
+you."
+
+"Come, young master, don't clutch the mane so hard," said Holt. "Hands
+off, I say! Greased Lightning won't stand that kind of treatment."
+
+But the more the manager spoke the tighter did Orion grasp the black
+mane of the chestnut horse. Greased Lightning began to paw the ground
+and to show many signs of discomfort; whereupon Orion uttered a
+piercing cry and began slipping backwards, towards the tail of the
+beast.
+
+"Come," said the man; "get back to your seat this minute. I have a
+whip in my hand, and it can sting; come, young sir!"
+
+"Don't you dare to stwike my bwother!" said Diana, running across the
+arena.
+
+Some girls, who had just come in, and several men, all burst out
+laughing.
+
+"You had best come back, miss; you had best not anger him," said a
+fair-haired girl, stretching out her hand to the little child as she
+spoke.
+
+"Anger him?" said Diana. "I doesn't know what you mean. Does you think
+I are going to let Orion be hurted? Listen to me, man. You had best
+let Orion jump off this morning, 'cos he's tired. I'll talk to him all
+about widing to-morrow. Let him get down now, p'ease, big man."
+
+"Not until he has been twice round the circus," said Uncle Ben. "You
+stand aside, missy, or Greased Lightning may tread on you."
+
+But Diana was not to be so easily restrained. She now flew up to Uncle
+Ben and tried to pull his big whip from his hand.
+
+"You don't dare to stwike my bwother!" she repeated, her eyes
+flashing. Her determined attitude, the fearlessness of her whole
+little nature induced Uncle Ben to yield to her for the nonce. This he
+did more, particularly as he saw that the little boy was really
+incapable of keeping his seat another moment.
+
+"Well, then, look here, little miss," he said; "you has behaved very
+well indeed yourself, and so I'll let the little chap off this
+morning. Now you know, sir, it is 'cos of your sister, for she's a
+plucky 'un; so you may go back to my wife. Here, Sarah; take the pair
+of 'em. You can go and sit on one of them chairs over there, children,
+and see us as we go through our rehearsal."
+
+The rest of the morning was a truly exciting, not to say breathless,
+time to Diana. She had not an instant to regret her absence from Iris
+and Apollo. The exploits, the feats performed by the three circus
+girls, and by Tom the clown, to say nothing of the advent of the
+elephant and of the donkey who could perform numberless tricks, and
+finally, the performances of the troop of dogs, who seemed more human
+than most human beings, all fascinated the little girl. Even Orion
+forgot his terrors as he looked on; his cheeks flamed through their
+walnut dye, and his dark eyes grew brighter than ever.
+
+When the rehearsal was at last over, the whole party rushed back to
+their rooms, where a hasty meal was served; and little Diana sat
+between two of the circus girls and was petted, and laughed at, and
+made much of, and Orion kept close to Aunt Sarah, who took care that
+he should have as many tit-bits as she could manage to secure for him.
+
+At three o'clock there was a public performance, but now neither Diana
+nor Orion was allowed to be present. They found themselves shut up
+once more in the ugly little room, where Mother Rodesia had first
+taken them. From this place they could hear as a sort of distant echo
+the shouts of the men and women who were performing, and the cheers of
+the people who were looking on.
+
+At six o'clock the performance came to an end, and then, indeed, began
+a fearful bustle and excitement. People were running here, there, and
+everywhere, and, two hours later, the great vans were all packed, the
+animals properly secured, and the party, with the exception of Aunt
+Sarah, Diana, and Orion, had started _en route_ for the west of
+England.
+
+"Why isn't we going with the others?" asked Diana.
+
+"'Cos the train is faster, little miss," answered Aunt Sarah. "And now
+the cab is at the door, and, if you will jump in at once we will be at
+the station in no time."
+
+"I calls it lovely," said Diana, turning to secure Orion's approval.
+"I like it miles better nor lessons with Miss Wamsay nor being beated
+by Aunt Jane. Only, course," she added, in a meditative voice, "I's
+twuly, twuly sossy for Uncle William and Iris and Apollo."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+THE HEART OF THE LITTLE MOTHER.
+
+
+It may seem almost impossible to believe that two little children
+could be kidnaped in the England of to-day. Nevertheless, such was the
+case. Mother Rodesia had managed her theft with great skill. The
+gypsies had appeared unexpectedly in the Fairy Dell--no one knew they
+were there, therefore no one looked for them. Having kidnaped the
+children, Mother Rodesia took care immediately to bury their clothes,
+and then she sold them to Ben Holt, the great circus manager, who took
+them within a few hours right away to the southwest of England. The
+little children had not accompanied the _troupe_, but had gone with
+Aunt Sarah by train. There had been little fuss and no apparent
+attempt at hiding the pair, therefore no one thought of looking for
+them in the large southwestern town where Holt established his great
+circus.
+
+It was the most popular time of the year for performing shows of all
+sorts, and Ben Holt expected to make a considerable sum of money out
+of the pretty and vivacious little pair.
+
+Meanwhile, the police were on their track; advertisements about them
+were scattered all over the country--considerable rewards were
+offered, and there was more than one nearly broken heart in the pretty
+Rectory of Super-Ashton.
+
+Even Aunt Jane felt by no means herself. She would not own to having
+done anything wrong, but she became wonderfully gentle to Iris and
+Apollo. She was unremitting, too, in her efforts to recover the lost
+children, and began to look quite peaky about the face and lined round
+the mouth.
+
+As to Uncle William, he preached nothing but old sermons, finding it
+beyond his powers to devote his attention to anything fresh or new. He
+hated the study window where little Diana had lain in his arms--he
+hated the memory of the whip which he had used over her. On one
+occasion he even went the length of saying to his wife:
+
+"Jane, it was your doing--she was too spirited a child for the
+treatment you subjected her to. She ought never to have been whipped.
+But for you she would not have run away."
+
+This was a very terrible moment for Aunt Jane, and she was too much
+cowed and stricken to reply a single word to her husband. He could not
+help, notwithstanding his great anxiety, having a momentary sense of
+pleasure when he found that he had got the upper hand of his clever
+wife; but Aunt Jane had it out with the servants and the parishioners
+afterwards, and so revenged herself after a fashion.
+
+As to Iris, a very sad change came over her. She grew thin and very
+pale; she scarcely ate anything, and scarcely ever spoke. Even Apollo,
+even little Ann quite failed to comfort her. She did not complain, but
+she went about with a drooping look, somewhat like a little flower
+which wants water.
+
+"Iris is not well," Miss Ramsay said one morning to Mrs. Dolman. "She
+does not eat her food, and when I went into her bedroom last night I
+found that she was wide awake, and had evidently been silently crying.
+I think she ought to see a doctor!"
+
+"Dear, dear!" replied Mrs. Dolman. "Do you know, Miss Ramsay, I am
+almost sorry I undertook the charge of the little Delaneys. They
+certainly have turned out, as their poor father expressed it, a
+handful. If Iris is really ill, I had better see her. Send her to me.
+You don't suppose she is--fretting?"
+
+"Yes; of course she is fretting dreadfully," replied Miss Ramsay. "And
+no wonder, poor little girl! For my part, I consider it perfectly
+awful to contemplate the fate of those poor lost children."
+
+"Oh, they will be found--they are likely to return here any day,"
+replied Mrs. Dolman. "It is just like you, Miss Ramsay, to go to the
+fair with things, and to imagine the very worst. Why, for instance,
+should not some very kind people have found the children? Why must
+they, as a matter of course, have fallen into the hands of cruel and
+unprincipled folk? Some of the very sharpest detectives in Scotland
+Yard are on their track. For my part, I have not the slightest doubt
+that they will soon be brought back."
+
+Miss Ramsay uttered a sigh.
+
+"I will send Iris down to speak to you," she said.
+
+This conversation occurred between three and four weeks after little
+Orion and Diana had disappeared. Mrs. Dolman was in her study. It was
+a very ugly room, sparsely furnished. There was a large, old-fashioned
+desk in the center of the room, and she was seated in an armchair in
+front of it, busily engaged making up her different tradesmen's books,
+when the door was softly opened and Iris came in.
+
+Mrs. Dolman had not had any special conversation with Iris since the
+mysterious disappearance of the two younger children, and now, as she
+raised her eyes and looked at her attentively, she was startled at
+the great change in her appearance. The child was reduced almost to a
+shadow. She was dressed in her heavy black, without a touch of
+relieving white. Her lovely hair hung over her shoulders, and was
+pushed back from her low brow, bringing into greater contrast the
+small, pinched, white face, and the great brown eyes, which looked now
+too big for the little countenance to which they belonged.
+
+"Come here, Iris," said Mrs. Dolman. She had always liked Iris the
+best of the children. "Come and tell me what is the matter."
+
+Iris came slowly forward.
+
+"Miss Ramsay says that you do not eat and do not sleep. If that is the
+case, I must send for the doctor to see you," continued Aunt Jane.
+
+"Yes, Aunt Jane," answered Iris.
+
+She hung her head listlessly. Mrs. Dolman put her arm round the
+slender waist and drew the child close to her side. Iris submitted to
+this embrace without in any way returning it.
+
+"And when you see the doctor he will, of course, order you a tonic,
+and perhaps tell us to take you to the seaside. If that is the case,
+we must do so, Iris--we must do our duty by you, whatever happens. It
+would never do for you to be ill, you understand."
+
+"Yes, Aunt Jane," answered Iris; "that's what I think myself--it would
+never do."
+
+"Then you will try to get well, dear? You will do exactly what the
+doctor says?"
+
+"Yes, Aunt Jane."
+
+Mrs. Dolman looked earnestly into her little niece's face.
+
+"You know," she said, in a brisk voice, "I am, for my part, quite
+certain that we shall get tidings of the lost children either to-day
+or to-morrow. We are not leaving a stone unturned to get them back."
+
+Iris raised her delicate brows, and for a moment there came a flashing
+light of hope into her eyes; but then it died out. She lowered her
+lashes and did not speak.
+
+"You are pale, and your hands are hot," said Mrs. Dolman.
+
+"I feel hot," answered Iris, "and I am thirsty," she added.
+
+"Oh, come! this will never do," said Aunt Jane. "I shall just take you
+away this minute to see the doctor."
+
+She rose impatiently as she spoke. The apathy which was over Iris
+irritated her more than she could express. If the child had only burst
+into tears, or even defied her as little Diana used to do, she felt
+that she could comprehend matters a great deal better.
+
+"If we are quick, we may see Dr. Kent before he goes on his rounds,"
+she said. "Run upstairs at once, Iris, and fetch your hat."
+
+Iris immediately left the room.
+
+"The child looks as if something had stunned her," thought Mrs. Dolman
+to herself. "I never saw such a queer expression on any little girl's
+face. Now, I am quite certain if Philip or Conrad had been kidnaped,
+that Lucy and Mary would be a great deal too sensible to act in this
+silly way. The worst of it is, too, that there is nothing really to
+lay hold of, for the child does not even complain--she simply suffers.
+What am I to do? How am I to tell the children's father that two of
+them have disappeared, and the eldest, his favorite, too, is very
+ill?"
+
+Iris re-entered the room, with her sun-bonnet hanging on her arm.
+
+"Put it on, my dear, put it on; and brisk up a little," said Mrs.
+Dolman. "There is no good in giving way to your feelings."
+
+"I never give way to them, Aunt Jane. I try to be patient," answered
+Iris.
+
+Mrs. Dolman tied on her own bonnet with her usual vigor. She then took
+one of the hot little hands in hers, and, a few moments later, the
+aunt and niece were standing outside Dr. Kent's door in the pretty
+little village street.
+
+Dr. Kent was at home. He was a young man, and a clever doctor, and he
+gave Iris a good overhauling. He listened to her lungs and heart, put
+several questions to her, was kind in his manner, and did not express
+the least surprise when he heard that the little girl could neither
+eat nor sleep.
+
+"I perfectly understand," he said. "And now, my dear, I hope soon to
+have you as right as a trivet; but, in the meantime, I should like to
+have a little talk with your aunt. Can you find your way into my
+dining room? You have only to turn to the left when you leave this
+room."
+
+"Thank you," answered Iris. She went to the door, opened it, and shut
+it behind her.
+
+"Now, what do you think about her?" said Aunt Jane. "Out with the
+truth, please, Dr. Kent. You know I never can stand any beating about
+the bush."
+
+"There is nothing of the ordinary nature the matter with your little
+niece," began the doctor.
+
+Mrs. Dolman raised her brows in surprise and indignation.
+
+"How can you say that?" she remarked. "The child looks seriously ill."
+
+"Please allow me to finish my speech. There is nothing the matter with
+the child in the form of organic or any other disease; but just at
+present there is such a severe strain on her mind that, if it is not
+completely relieved, she is very likely to die."
+
+"Doctor! What a terrible thing to say!"
+
+"It is true. The child needs rousing--she is losing all interest in
+life. She has been subjected to a terrible shock."
+
+"Of course she has," replied Mrs. Dolman; "but the extraordinary thing
+is that a child of ten years of age should feel it so much."
+
+"It is not extraordinary in that sort of child," replied the doctor.
+"Can you not see for yourself that she has a very delicate and a very
+nervous organism. She has lately, too, lost her mother, has she not?"
+
+"Yes; and I believe the child was very fond of her; but, indeed, I may
+as well say that I never saw anyone more sensible than little Iris
+about that. She scarcely seemed to grieve at all. Of course, I dare
+say she was very sorry, but she did not show it."
+
+"All the worse for her," answered Dr. Kent. "If she had given way
+about her mother, and allowed her grief to get the upper hand, she
+would not be so ill as she is now. Then came the second blow--the
+extraordinary loss of the children."
+
+"Then you really think her very ill?" said Mrs. Dolman. "I would do
+anything to save her, doctor. These four children were put into my
+care by their father."
+
+"Where is the father now?" asked Dr. Kent.
+
+"He must have nearly reached the Himalayas by this time."
+
+"Is it possible for you to communicate with him?"
+
+"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."
+
+Mrs. Dolman left Dr. Kent's house, feeling very uncomfortable. She
+took Iris home, was wonderfully gentle to her during the walk, and
+sent her up to the schoolroom with a message to Miss Ramsay to say
+that she was not to do any more lessons that morning. Having got rid
+of Iris, she went immediately to have an interview with her husband in
+his study.
+
+"Well, William," she said, "I own myself beaten."
+
+"My dear Jane--beaten? In what way?"
+
+"Here's a pretty mess," continued Mrs. Dolman; "Orion and Diana cannot
+be found, and Dr. Kent says that Iris is going to be very ill."
+
+"Iris going to be ill?" repeated Mr. Dolman. "Has she caught anything
+taking. If so, Jane, it would be our duty to separate the children
+immediately."
+
+"Oh, nonsense, William! Where would she take a catching complaint in a
+wholesome, well-sanitated rectory like this? Have you never heard of
+nerve troubles?"
+
+Mr. Dolman opened his sleepy eyes and stared full at his wife.
+
+"My dear," he said, "I often thought that _you_ had never heard of
+them. So you really believe in them at last?"
+
+"I am forced to when that pretty child is dying from the effects of
+them."
+
+Mrs. Dolman then repeated to her husband all that Dr. Kent had said.
+
+"I cannot stand the responsibility any longer," she said. "I will send
+a cablegram to David this very day. What will he think of me? Of
+course he will never forgive me. In the meantime, William, have you
+anything to propose about little Iris?"
+
+"Yes," answered Mr. Dolman. "There may not be much in my suggestion;
+but the fact is, I feel dreadfully restless, sitting here day after
+day, doing nothing."
+
+"William, what do you mean?" answered his wife. "Sitting here day
+after day, doing nothing! Have you not your parish to attend to?"
+
+"Oh, I don't mean that--you attend to the parish, my love."
+
+"Thank you, William, for acknowledging that fact at last."
+
+"I frankly acknowledge it. Then, too, we have no sick poor in the
+parish, and everything is really in a prosperous condition; but the
+fact is, I hate sitting down to my comfortable meals, and lying down
+at night on my comfortable bed, not knowing in what part of the world
+dear, spirited little Diana may be. I don't think half so much about
+the boy as little Diana."
+
+"You are like all the rest of your sex, William; you are taken by a
+child because it happens to be a girl and has a pair of black eyes.
+For my part, I never could bear little Diana."
+
+"Please don't say that now."
+
+"Oh, it is not that I am not sorry for her; of course, I am dreadfully
+sorry, and I acknowledge--I do acknowledge--that I have been more or
+less to blame. But now, please, come to the point--you always were
+such a man for going round and round a subject."
+
+"Well, then," said Mr. Dolman, "this is it. The doctor wishes Iris to
+be roused. Let me take both her and Apollo, and let us begin to look
+for the lost children."
+
+"And do you suppose," answered Mrs. Dolman, with a laugh, "that you
+will be more likely to find the children than the clever detectives
+who are on their track?"
+
+"We can go to London and take a detective with us. Iris will at once
+feel happier if she is doing something. The fact is this: I am certain
+the inaction is killing her."
+
+"It is an extraordinary plan," said Mrs. Dolman; "but after all, if it
+is the only way to keep Iris alive, I suppose we must consider it.
+But, William, I am the suitable one to take Iris and Apollo about.
+Indeed, why should Apollo go at all? He at least is in perfect
+health."
+
+"The person to consider is Iris," said Mr. Dolman. "She will confide
+in Apollo when she will not confide in anyone else; and I think,
+Jane," he added, looking very strong and determined, "that she would
+rather go with me than with you." Mrs. Dolman flushed. "You know,
+Jane," continued her husband, "you have been a little hard on these
+children."
+
+"Perhaps so," answered Mrs. Dolman, "and when I have tried to do my
+duty, too. But, of course, Evangeline's children were likely to be
+unmanageable; they had such extraordinary training when they were
+babies. However, as matters stand, I have not a word to say."
+
+"Then, my dear, we will consider the thing arranged. We can easily get
+John Burroughs to lend us one of his curates for Sunday, and you will
+do all the rest. Now, shall I see Iris and submit the plan to her?"
+
+"An extraordinary plan it is," answered Mrs. Dolman; "but perhaps you
+are right, William. At any rate, I have proved myself so completely in
+the wrong that I am willing on this occasion to be guided by you."
+
+She rose from her seat, left the room, and went up to the schoolroom.
+
+"Iris," she said to the little girl, "I want you and Apollo to come
+downstairs immediately."
+
+Iris sprang to her feet; she grew white to her lips.
+
+"Have you heard anything?" she asked.
+
+"No, my dear, nothing--nothing whatever; only your uncle wishes to
+speak to you. Now, come at once, for he is not the sort of man to be
+kept waiting."
+
+Mrs. Dolman left the room and the children followed her. When they
+reached the study, Iris went straight up to her uncle.
+
+"What do you want with me, Uncle William?" she asked.
+
+"The fact is this," he answered, scarcely looking at her, and speaking
+with great eagerness and emphasis for him; "you and I, Iris, have got
+to do something, and there is not a moment to delay."
+
+A great flood of color filled Iris' cheeks, a new light darted into
+her eyes.
+
+"Oh, yes, Uncle William," she said, panting as she spoke, "we have
+been doing nothing too long. It has nearly killed me, Uncle William,"
+she added.
+
+"Then, my dear, we will just be our own detectives--you and I and
+Apollo. We will start this very afternoon; we will look for the
+children ourselves. Why, what is the matter, my dear; what is the
+matter? What are you doing?"
+
+For little Iris had fallen on her knees, had caught her uncle's hand
+in both of hers, and was pressing it frantically to her lips.
+
+"Oh, Uncle William," she said, "how can I thank you? I promised mother
+the day she died that I would be a little mother to the others, and I
+have failed, I have failed dreadfully, and it is killing me, Uncle
+William. But oh, if I can find them again, and if you will really help
+me, and if we do start to-day--oh, if this is true, then I am happy
+again."
+
+"You observe, my dear Jane," said Mr. Dolman, "that my proposal seems
+to be correct. Now, run off, Iris, and get Simpson to pack some
+clothes for you and Apollo. We will leave Super-Ashton by the three
+o'clock train."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+"A PIGMY I CALL HIM."
+
+
+The seaside town of Madersley was crowded to excess. It was the height
+of the summer season, and Holt's circus was doing a roaring trade.
+There were two exhibitions daily, and every available corner in the
+great tent was crammed to excess. The spectators said that they came
+principally to see the little dark-eyed girl ride. For Diana had taken
+to the life almost as kindly as a young duck takes to the water. She
+had learned her part quickly, and in a very short time she could ride
+even the most spirited horse. She was really almost destitute of fear,
+and was even seen to laugh when she was put upon the back of a
+buck-jumper, who did his utmost to toss her off. There were always men
+or women close by to catch her if she did fail to go through any of
+the rings, the large paper balloons, or the other obstructions put in
+her way. Her piquant little face, the bold expression of her eyes, her
+fearless manner, and the unmistakable look of babyhood about her,
+roused the spectators to a frenzy of admiration.
+
+But though Diana did well and delighted Ben Holt, Orion by no means
+followed her example. Put to the test, poor little Orion had little of
+the real giant about him. He was an ordinary little boy, with pretty
+black eyes and a good-humored, somewhat touching expression of face,
+but Diana was anything but an ordinary girl.
+
+Orion, having slipped once or twice from the back of Greased
+Lightning, became terribly afraid of the beast, and always turned
+white to his little lips when he was going through his exercises. As a
+rule, Ben Holt always trained the novices himself, and although he was
+kind to Diana, he soon began to have a thorough contempt for little
+Orion.
+
+"He's a peaky little chap," he said to his wife. "Why, he aint even
+worth the twenty shillin's I paid for 'im. Now the little 'un--the
+gal--there's a fortune in her; but the boy--I have no patience with
+the boy."
+
+Meanwhile, he began to use rough language and threats to the child,
+and once or twice he even touched the little fellow with his great
+whip. On this occasion Orion lost every scrap of nerve he possessed,
+and fell flat down upon the sanded floor of the arena, shivering and
+crying painfully. Diana did not happen to be present. When she was by,
+small child that she was, Uncle Ben never showed at his worst, and
+Orion, looking round now in vain for his sister, gave himself up for
+lost.
+
+"Now listen to me, you young villain," said the tyrant; "I'll force
+you to do what I want. You get on Greased Lightning's back this very
+minute."
+
+Little Orion struggled painfully to his feet. A good-natured girl, who
+stood near, tried to say a word in his favor.
+
+"Don't you forget that he's very young, Ben Holt," she said. "It will
+be all the worse for you if you are too hard on the little kid."
+
+"I'll thank you not to give me any of your sauce, Susan Jenkins," was
+the angry reply.
+
+Susan Jenkins, a pretty, slight, fair-haired girl, who went by the
+graceful name of Ariel in the circus programme, did not venture to say
+anything further, but in her heart she resolved to give Diana a hint
+of the true state of the case.
+
+Orion was once more lifted on Greased Lightning's back, and the
+manager cracking his whip, the beautiful horse began to trot round and
+round the arena. At first the creature went fairly quietly, and Orion
+managed to keep his seat. His piteous white face, the black shadows
+under his eyes, his little trembling hands were noticed, however, by
+Susan. She kept near on purpose and tried to encourage him by smiles
+and nods. When he passed close to her he heard her hearty voice
+saying, "Well done, little chap! You jest stick on and you'll be as
+right as a trivet."
+
+A strangled sob by way of answer rose in Orion's throat. Alas! he knew
+only too well that he could not stick on. Louder and faster grew the
+crack of the manager's whip, and faster and fleeter trotted Greased
+Lightning. It was impossible for Orion to keep his seat; he had
+nothing to cling to, nothing to hold on to.
+
+"You will have to do all this before the company to-morrow," called
+out the manager; "and now, no more of that easy sitting still. You
+jest scramble to your feet and _stand_ on the 'orse's back."
+
+"I can't! I'll be killed!" cried the child, whose face was white to
+his very lips.
+
+Crack went the great whip.
+
+"Stand up this minute, or you'll have a taste of this about your
+legs," said the man, in a brutal tone.
+
+In deadly fear the little fellow struggled to his feet; he looked
+wildly round him, the horse trotted forward, the child fell on his
+face and hands and clutched hold of the black mane. This enraged the
+spirited beast, who began to dance and curvet about, and the next
+moment, but for the speedy interference of Susan Jenkins, little Orion
+would have measured his length upon the floor. Even as it was he was
+hurt and shaken, and lay weeping and trembling in her arms.
+
+"Now, Susan, you jest listen to me," said Holt, in an enraged voice.
+"I aint a-goin' to stand this sort of thing. That little chap has got
+to learn his lesson or he don't stay here; he is not a patch on his
+sister, but he shall learn his part. I has it all arranged that them
+two children is to appear in public to-morrow, and the boy must help
+the gal. The gal will do her work right well, but the boy must help
+her. It's the look of the two, and they so young, that I reckon on to
+fill the house. I'm determined that a mite of that sort shan't beat
+me. He could have stood on the horse's back if he had had a mind. He
+has disobeyed me and he shall be punished. You take 'im and lock 'im
+up in the black cage."
+
+The black cage was a terrible place, in which some of the fiercer
+animals were put from time to time to train them. It really consisted
+of a huge box without windows, but with one or two small ventilating
+shafts in the door. On rare occasions, when thoroughly enraged, the
+manager had been known to lock a refractory member of the troupe up
+there; but such a punishment had never been given to a child before.
+
+"Oh, no, Ben Holt! You can't mean that," said Susan. "Why, it'll
+frighten him awful, and it do smell so bad of the last leopard."
+
+But for this answer the poor girl only got a crack of the whip round
+her ankles.
+
+What might have really happened at the end is not known; but suddenly
+at this juncture the swing door was flung open and little Diana
+marched in. She held her head well back, and trotted boldly into the
+center of the arena.
+
+"Dear, dear, what's all this fuss?" she cried out in her frank, hearty
+voice. "Uncle Ben, is anybody a-vexing of you?"
+
+"Yes, my dear; that little brother of yours. You jest tell him to do
+his duty."
+
+"Oh, Diana, Diana! he's killing me!" sobbed little Orion. He struggled
+out of Susan's arms, flew to his sister, flung the whole weight of his
+little body against her, and gave way to a fresh agony of howling and
+weeping.
+
+Diana's black eyes flashed.
+
+"You stay k'iet. Orion; 'member you is a giant," she said, speaking in
+a whisper to the boy. "I's here, and I'll look after you. You stay
+k'iet. Now, Uncle Ben, what's all this?"
+
+"Only that silly boy won't ride Greased Lightning. He won't even stand
+on the 'orse, let alone leap through the rings and the balloons."
+
+"Is that all?" said Diana, her eyes gleaming. "But I can do all that;
+I can do all that beautiful. _Dear_ G'eased Lightning!" She unclasped
+Orion's arms from her neck and trotted across the stage. She ran up to
+the great chestnut and began to stroke its nose. The creature licked
+her little hand and looked affectionately down at her small figure.
+
+"Uncle Ben," she said suddenly, "I isn't going to have Orion punished;
+you isn't to do it; give him to me. You can't do anything with a
+little sild like that if you fwighten him. Give him to me, Uncle Ben;
+I'll manage him."
+
+"But what are you but a little child yourself?" said Uncle Ben.
+
+"Yes, but I is made different. Nothing fwightens me. I aren't afeared
+of nothing, and I aren't afeared of you, Uncle Ben, so don't you begin
+to think I is."
+
+"Never seed sech a child," said Uncle Ben, once more restored to good
+humor. "Jest notice that perfect demon of a 'orse, how 'e takes to
+'er. Never seed anything like it afore. Well, missy, and if you can
+manage your brother I'm sure I'll be only too pleased, but jest you
+remember this--you are both to go before the footlights to-morrow for
+the public to see. I has never had that young 'un on the stage yet,
+but he's to ride with you to-morrow."
+
+"So he shall, Uncle Ben; course you will, won't you, Orion?"
+
+"With you, Di," sobbed Orion; "if you are close to me, Di."
+
+"Course I'll be close to you, Orion. I is the gweat Diana. Well, Uncle
+Ben, you isn't going to punish him. If you punish him he can't wide,
+'cos he'll be ill. He's a giant."
+
+"A pigmy I call him," said Uncle Ben.
+
+"You talk silly," replied Diana; "he's a giant, 'cos mother said he
+was, and on starful nights you can see him shining in the sky."
+
+"Bless you, child, don't take up any more of my time talking that
+gibberish."
+
+"Well, he's not to be punished, 'cos I say he isn't. He's coming with
+me now to his dinner. Come 'long, Orion, this minute; I has come to
+fetch you. Good-by, Uncle Ben."
+
+Uncle Ben did not utter a word. Orion and Diana left the arena, hand
+in hand.
+
+"What about the black cage now, mister?" said the circus girl, with a
+sneer.
+
+"Hang me, if I know what the world's coming to!" said Uncle Ben,
+scratching his head. "I can do nothing agen that little gal--she's the
+'cutest, sharpest, bravest little cuss I ever come across."
+
+"She's got the upper hand of you, leastways," said Susan, with a
+laugh; "and, for my part," she added, "I am right glad. I don't want
+that pore little kid to be used hard."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+"LET'S PERTEND," SAID DIANA.
+
+
+The circus was crowded that evening, but neither Diana nor Orion put
+in an appearance. They were to make their grand _debut_ together on
+the following day, for hitherto only Diana had ridden in public. They
+were left now in the little room, all alone, but as they were together
+that did not matter at all to them. Orion's weary head rested against
+his sister's shoulder. Her stout little arm was flung round his waist;
+he was fast asleep, but there were traces of tears on his pale cheeks.
+It seemed a very long time now to little Orion since all the world had
+altered for him. From being a beautiful place, full of lovely gardens,
+and lovely homes, and kind people--from being full of snug little beds
+to sleep in, and nice food to eat, and loving services of all
+sorts--it had suddenly turned and shown its black face to the tenderly
+nurtured little boy. Rough words were now his portion; he had a hard
+bed to lie on, very insufficient and very poor food to eat, and in
+addition to these things, blows and kicks were measured out to him
+with a very liberal hand. Besides these fearful things, he was
+expected to do what terrified him into the very core of his somewhat
+timorous heart. Until he had been kidnaped by Mother Rodesia he had
+never known that he was really timid, but now this side of his nature
+had come to the fore. Day by day he grew more and more frightened,
+and for the last fortnight he really lost his appetite, and his health
+began to fail. He refused to eat the coarse and insufficient food, and
+when he slept his sleep was broken by bad dreams. Little Diana knew
+that there was something very wrong the matter, but she could not
+quite tell what. She had a very energetic little brain, however, and
+it was working now hard in Orion's behalf.
+
+The noise and shouts made by the circus people were distinctly audible
+to the two little children. Orion raised his head, looked around him
+with a terrified glance, and began to cry feebly.
+
+"Is Uncle Ben coming? Have I got to ride Greased Lightning? Di, are
+you there? are you close to me?"
+
+"Course I is," answered Diana. "Orion, don't you be such a silly; I is
+with you. There's nothing going to happen."
+
+"Nothing? Are you certain sure?" asked the child.
+
+"K'ite. I is with you, Orion; don't you be fwightened; there's nothing
+going to happen."
+
+Orion leaned comfortably back against the fat little shoulder.
+
+"P'w'aps you is a bit hung'y," said Diana. "There's bwead and milk on
+the table; Aunt Sawah left it. Shall we eat our supper afore we
+talks?"
+
+"I can't eat," replied Orion. "I'm not a scrap hungry; I am never
+hungry now. I wonder you can eat, Diana."
+
+"Course I can eat," replied Diana; "I aren't a silly. I has got to
+wide G'eased Lightning. I love G'eased Lightning. Don't know why you
+is fwightened of him."
+
+"But I am to ride Pole Star, and he's worse than Greased Lightning,"
+replied Orion.
+
+"Well, you listen to me," said Diana, speaking in a very firm and
+authoritative voice. "See, I am eating up my supper, and you had best
+have some with me. I'll sit by you on the floor, if you like, and feed
+you same as if you was a baby."
+
+"But you are younger nor me," said Orion, with a little laugh; "seems,
+though, as if you were much older."
+
+"Can't help that," answered Diana; "can't help feelin' old, whether we
+is nor not. You is almost a baby--I is k'ite a big girl. Now, open
+your mouth; I am going to pop in some food. Here's a vedy nice piece
+of bwead."
+
+Orion did what Diana wished, but he could scarcely eat. Tears came
+suddenly into his eyes.
+
+"I wish I was dead, like poor Rub-a-Dub," he said, after a pause; "I
+wish I was lying in the beautiful garden, in the cemetery part with
+Rub-a-Dub."
+
+"Oh, don't be such a silly!" said Diana. "You has a lot to do afore
+you is deaded. Don't forget that you is a star and a giant."
+
+"No, that I aren't," said the child. "Oh, Di! if mother was here she
+would be disappointed, for I am not a star, nor yet a giant. I'm just
+the frightenest little boy in the world."
+
+"I has thought of a plan," said Diana very calmly. "You shan't wide
+Pole Star to-morrow; you shall wide G'eased Lightning."
+
+"But I am nearly as frightened of one horse as the other."
+
+"I know G'eased Lightning k'ite well by this time," continued Diana,
+"and if I are there he'll be gentle. You shall wide him, and I'll wide
+Pole Star."
+
+"But I heard Uncle Ben say that I was to have the other horse."
+
+"Never you mind that. What does that si'nify? I'll manage. I'm not
+fwightened of any horse that ever walked. If I are there, and if I
+look at G'eased Lightning, he'll be as good as good can be, and you
+must just keep looking at me, Orion, and do the things that I do. When
+you see me standing on Pole Star you must stand on your two foots on
+G'eased Lightning, and when we fly faster and faster you must still
+keep looking at me, and when I jump through the wings you must do the
+same, and then, Orion, then, why, it will be over. Now, bend down; I'm
+going to whisper something to you."
+
+Orion bent his ear with deep interest.
+
+"You don't mean it?" he said, when Diana had said some very energetic
+words in a low voice.
+
+"Yes, I does. Does I say things I doesn't mean? I means it twuly,
+twuly. You wide G'eased Lightning, and then--then it'll all be over."
+
+"Oh, I really think I can, if you are _quite_ sure," said Orion. His
+little face brightened up, two fever spots came into his cheeks; his
+eyes shone.
+
+"Are you quite sure, Di?" he said.
+
+"Pos'tive certain. Now, lie down if you like, and go to s'eep."
+
+"I could eat a bit more supper," said Orion. "I'm kind of hungry now
+that you has told me you is positive, Di."
+
+"All wight," answered Diana. "There's a teeny dwop of milk left.
+Course I was hungry and thirsty, and my trof was dry, but you shall
+drink up the last dwop of milk. Here now, isn't you better?"
+
+"I am really, truly," said Orion; "but are you quite certain it's
+true, Di?"
+
+"K'ite. Do you think I would tell a lie? I is the _gweat_ Diana. You
+is sort of forgetting, Orion."
+
+"No, I aren't," said Orion. "Oh, I am happy now!"
+
+"Well, lie down. I'll make up your bed, and you shall go to s'eep. We
+has a lot to do to-morrow, hasn't we?"
+
+"Yes, a lot," answered Orion, with a little laugh. "Oh, Di! will they
+let us?"
+
+"Course they'll let us," said Diana. "I has it all settled beautiful.
+Now, go to s'eep, p'ease, Orion."
+
+Orion did very soon enter the land of dreams, but little Diana lay
+broad awake. She was thinking hard, and her thoughts were wonderfully
+sensible for such a baby.
+
+The performance at the circus had turned out a great success. Diana
+had already appeared once or twice on Greased Lightning's back, but
+Ben Holt now kept her out of sight on purpose. He had caused rumors to
+be spread about her wonderful riding; his aim was to make people very
+anxious to see her again. He wanted the public to have a sort of
+craving for her. He hoped that when she finally appeared, dressed as
+the great Diana, with the bow and arrows, and when little Orion
+accompanied her with his girdle round his waist, and a sword in his
+hand, and when the two children rode round and round the circus on the
+fleetest horses in the company, that they would in very truth bring
+down the house--in short, that crowds would come to see them.
+
+Uncle Ben was full of hope with regard to Diana, but he was by no
+means so sure as far as Orion was concerned. If Orion would not play
+his part well, and look what he was--one of the prettiest boys in
+England, and one of the very youngest who had ever appeared in a
+circus--why, half the effect would be lost. He began to perceive,
+however, that cruelty had little or no effect on the child, and he was
+inclined to allow that little genius, Diana, to manage him in her own
+way.
+
+That night when the entertainment had come to an end, and Uncle Ben
+was seated at his cozy supper, he was much surprised when the door of
+the room was pushed suddenly open and a small girl, clad in a little
+white nightdress, made her appearance.
+
+"Is my dear Uncle Ben anywhere about?" called out the clear little
+voice.
+
+"My word! if that aint little Diana," said the man. "Come here this
+minute, you little romp, and get on my knee."
+
+Diana flew up to him, climbed on his knee, put her arms round his
+neck, and kissed him.
+
+"You's sort o' fond of me, I'm thinking," she said.
+
+"Yes, that I be, missy," he answered; "you are the 'cutest little gal
+I ever seed, and you are fond of poor Uncle Ben, eh?"
+
+"It all apends," replied Diana.
+
+"Now what do you mean by that, missy?"
+
+"It all apends," she repeated.
+
+"Wife, can you understand her?" questioned the man.
+
+"I think she means that it all depends, Ben."
+
+"Oh, depends--on what now, my dear?"
+
+"On whether you is good to my bwother or not."
+
+"Oh, is that all? Well, I'll be good to 'im."
+
+"He's awfu' fwightened of you."
+
+"Well, he needn't be. If you'll manage him I won't say a word."
+
+"Won't you twuly? Then I love you," said Diana. "Now, listen to me--I
+has been a-talking to him."
+
+"That's right, missy. Have a sip of my stout, won't you?"
+
+"No; I don't like it; it's black, nasty stuff. Put it away; I won't
+touch it. Well, now, listen to me, Uncle Ben. It apends altogether on
+whether you is good to Orion to-morrow or not whether he wides well,
+or whether he wides badly, and what I think is this--"
+
+"Well, missy, you are a very wise little miss for your age."
+
+"What I think is this," repeated Diana. "Let Orion wide G'eased
+Lightning and let me wide Pole Star."
+
+"But you can do anything with Greased Lightning," said the man. "Why,
+the 'orse fairly loves you, and Pole Star's a rare and wicious sort of
+beast."
+
+"I aren't fwightened; that aren't me," said Diana, in her usual proud,
+confident tone. "Orion isn't to wide a wicious sort of beast."
+
+She slipped down from the man's knees and stood before him.
+
+"It aren't me to be fwightened of any horse," she said. "I never was
+and I never will be."
+
+"I believe yer, miss," said Uncle Ben, gazing at her with great
+admiration.
+
+"But Orion he is--he is awfu' fwightened of Pole Star, and he sha'n't
+wide him. Now, G'eased Lightning, he'll do anything for me, and so
+what I say is this--let Orion wide him, and if he begins to dance
+about and get sort of fidgety, why, I'll stwoke him down. You know I
+could pwactice widing a little on Pole Star in the morning."
+
+"To be sure you could, missy."
+
+"Oh, my dear Ben," said Aunt Sarah at that moment, "you are never
+a-going to let either of them little kids ride a 'orse like Pole
+Star?"
+
+"You let me manage my own affairs," said the man, scowling angrily.
+
+"Well, I call it a shame," answered the woman.
+
+"Poor Aunt Sawah! you needn't be fwightened," said Diana. "I is never
+fwightened; that aren't me. I'll wide Pole Star, and Orion, he'll wide
+G'eased Lightning, _only_--now, Uncle Ben, is you listening?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure I am, missy," said Uncle Ben, taking another deep
+draught from his big glass of stout. "What's the 'only,' little miss?"
+
+"Let's pertend," said Diana.
+
+"Pretend what, missy?"
+
+"That after Orion has done it, after he has wode G'eased Lightning, he
+may go 'way."
+
+"Go away, missy?"
+
+"Yes, let's pertend it. If he thinks he's going away after he has done
+it, why, there's nothing he won't twy to do, 'cos, you see, he's
+longing to go. Let's say this to him: 'Orion, you's good boy, you's
+darlin' boy, and when you has done what I want you to do, you shall go
+way'--then he'll do it beaut'ful."
+
+"But he aint a-going," said the man, "he's my property. I has bought
+him; I has bought you both. You are sort of slaves to me."
+
+"No, I aren't a slave to nobody," said Diana, whose fierce little
+blood could not brook this word.
+
+"Well, you are a very good little gal, and so I am to pretend to Orion
+that he's going away; but now, when I don't mean him to go, that seems
+sort of cruel."
+
+"Oh, you leave it to me!" said Diana; "let him think he's going away
+and I'll manage. Tell Susan to tell him, and tell Aunt Sawah to tell
+him, and you tell him, and I'll tell him, and then he'll be as good as
+good, and as bwave--as bwave as a big giant."
+
+"Well, my dear, manage it your own way," said Uncle Ben; "but, all the
+same, it seems a shame. I aint what's called a very soft sort of man,
+but it seems a shame to deceive a little kid; only you manage it your
+own way, little missy."
+
+"I'll manage it my own way," echoed Diana. "I'm awfu' 'bliged."
+
+She tripped gayly out of the room.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+POLE STAR.
+
+
+The next day, at an early hour, the different performers had a grand
+rehearsal of their parts. It was a dress rehearsal. Holt was in high
+spirits, and Aunt Sarah, who stood just in front of the circus, petted
+and encouraged both Diana and Orion as much as possible. Orion felt
+shaky and looked very white, but the delicious thought that, after he
+had gone through those few minutes of agony, he might really be free
+to run away, to leave the dreadful, terrible circus forever, sustained
+him wonderfully. Diana had assured him that this could be managed. She
+had told him that Uncle Ben had promised that if he was a brave boy
+and sat well on Greased Lightning, and stood up when necessary, and,
+in short, went through the ordeal set him to do, without a murmur, he
+should be allowed to leave the circus that evening. It mattered
+nothing at all to little Orion that he did not know where he was to
+go, that he was a penniless and very small, very ignorant boy. The one
+object on which all his hopes were centered was the desire to get away
+from Uncle Ben and the terrible horses which he was forced to ride.
+
+"Now, 'member, you is to be bwave," said Diana; "you isn't to be
+fwightened. If you's fwightened, Uncle Ben won't let you go. You just
+be as bwave as possible, and never mind nobody. Now, then, it's your
+turn. Come 'long."
+
+Orion looked charming in his pretty dress. He wore a little sky-blue
+tunic, with small, tight knickers of white; his little legs and feet
+were bare, round his waist was a crimson girdle, and at his side was
+attached a toy sword.
+
+Diana wore a silk skirt and tights, her curling black hair fell partly
+over her forehead; her bold, black eyes were full of a strange mixture
+of frolic, affection, and defiance. She looked the personification of
+healthy life and courageous fire. In her hand she held the bow of
+Diana, and round her neck was slung a couple of arrows. She was a
+wonderfully graceful child in all her movements, and looked charming
+in her picturesque dress.
+
+The call for the children came, and the two bounded on the stage. The
+moment they did so, Diana ran up to Uncle Ben and took hold of the
+great whip which he carried.
+
+"You must let me do it my own way," she said; "you have pwomised.
+Orion won't be bwave boy if I don't manage him. Give me that whip."
+
+"Oh, but I say, little missy----"
+
+"Give me that whip," repeated Diana, flashing her eyes up at the man.
+"I is the gweat Diana and I order you. Give me the whip; I'll slash
+it; I know how. Ah, here comes G'eased Lightning. Come 'long, you
+beauty; come 'long, you darlin'."
+
+Diana ran fearlessly up to the horse, fondled its nose, and looked
+into its eyes; the creature stood perfectly still, bent its graceful
+head, and licked her little hand.
+
+"And it's a perfect brute to everyone else," thought Uncle Ben to
+himself, but this time he did not utter a word.
+
+The horse stood perfectly motionless until little Orion was mounted on
+its back.
+
+"Now, G'eased Lightning, you has got to be a good horse," said Diana,
+speaking to him in a confiding voice. "You isn't to fwighten Orion;
+'member he's a giant, and it's a gweat honor for you to carry him,
+'cos most times he lives up in the stars."
+
+"Come, missy, we have no time for that sort of nonsense," said Uncle
+Ben, who began to get impatient. "Give me back my whip."
+
+"No; I is going to slash the whip. Come, G'eased Lightning; twot,
+twot, p'ease."
+
+The horse began to amble gently forward. Little Diana went and stood
+by Uncle Ben's side.
+
+"I's managing," she said; "you shall have whip to-night; but I's
+managing now."
+
+The other performers stood round in breathless silence. Orion kept his
+seat manfully. Greased Lightning was as gentle as a lamb.
+
+"Good boy!" called out Diana; "vedy good little boy. Good horse,
+G'eased Lightning! you is a vedy good horse. Now then, go faster."
+Diana gave the whip a crack.
+
+The horse looked at her out of his big, intelligent eyes, and began to
+trot, but still very gently, round and round the circus.
+
+"Good boy," repeated Diana; "good horse! Now then, Orion, get up on to
+yous two foots; don't be fwightened. 'Member what will happen when
+it's over. Get up on to yous foots this minute."
+
+Poor little Orion scrambled in deadly terror on to his small feet; but
+the horse still went swift and smooth, neither budging nor turning to
+the right or the left. Diana once again cracked her whip. He went
+faster and faster. Orion began to lose his fear; he even laughed with
+excitement; the rose bloom came out on his delicate little face. The
+terrible hoops were brought, and the child made a manful effort to get
+through them. Diana cracked her whip and called out and encouraged
+him, and finally brought him successfully through the ordeal. He was
+taken off the stage wet with perspiration, and trembling all over, but
+at the same time he had a wild sort of triumph in his little heart.
+
+"I did it well; didn't I, Aunt Sarah?" he said.
+
+"You did it splendidly, my little love," said Aunt Sarah; "but I never
+did see a little gal like your sister. Oh, merciful Heavens! that man
+aint never a-going to let her ride Pole Star!"
+
+A black horse of immense strength and size was now brought upon the
+stage. This horse seemed to paw the air as he walked; his eyes were
+bloodshot and full of a dangerous light.
+
+"Remember it's your own fault, missy," said Uncle Ben; "this aint the
+'orse I'd give you. I don't want any harm to come to you; but if you
+insist on that little chap, that aint a patch on you, riding Greased
+Lightning, why, there aint nothing for it but for you to ride Pole
+Star."
+
+"You don't 'uppose I's fwightened of Pole Star? Why, he's a weal
+beauty," said Diana.
+
+"He's the----" The man arrested the words on his lips.
+
+Diana had thrown down her whip and rushed across the stage. With just
+the same fearless confidence as, half an hour before, she had gone up
+to Greased Lightning--she now approached Pole Star.
+
+"You's pwetty, you's a darlin'," she said. She held out her tiny
+brown hand. "Give me a bit of sugar, somebody," she demanded.
+
+A girl who stood near ran away to fetch a lump. The child offered it
+to the horse. He looked at her, pawed the ground restlessly, and then,
+stooping, licked the sugar off her hand as tenderly as if he were a
+kitten.
+
+"Well, I never!" said Uncle Ben, breathing a great sigh of relief.
+
+"It's a beauty horse," repeated Diana; "I like it better nor G'eased
+Lightning. Pole Star, I's going to wide you; you's a dear, good
+horse." She stroked the creature's nose--the fierce eyes grew
+gentle--a moment later the child was mounted on its back.
+
+"Now, gee up, gee up!" called Diana. "P'ease, Uncle Ben, don't cwack
+your whip; I can manage Pole Star." She pulled at the reins, and the
+creature began, at first gently and then more rapidly, to run round
+and round the stage. After all, notwithstanding her bravery, it was an
+ordeal, for Pole Star could run double as fast as Greased Lightning.
+Soon, from running he seemed to take to flying, and little Diana
+gasped and lost her breath; but she sat firm as a statue, and never
+touched a hair of the creature's mane.
+
+"Now, Pole Star," she called out, when the horse had stopped for want
+of breath; "I's going to stand on you, and you must be vedy good." She
+patted the animal on its head; then she scrambled to her feet, and,
+holding the reins taut, stood firm as an arrow, while the creature
+once more flew round the stage. When her ride was over she had won the
+applause of the whole house.
+
+After this Diana and Orion were taken away to rest until the evening.
+They were given the best food and a great deal of petting from Aunt
+Sarah. As to Diana, she was in excellent spirits.
+
+"Oh, please, Di; nothing will make you stop, nothing will make you
+break your word?" said little Orion once to her.
+
+"What I pwomise I do," replied Diana, with dignity.
+
+And so the hours flew by, and at last the time arrived when the
+children were to appear before the footlights.
+
+The huge circus tent was packed to the highest gallery. There was, in
+short, not standing room in the audience part of the house. Uncle Ben,
+in the highest spirits, was darting here and there behind the wings,
+giving directions, gesticulating, ordering, rearranging. Little Diana
+flew up to him and took his hand.
+
+"What is you 'cited about?" she asked. "Is you fwightened 'bout
+anything?"
+
+"No, little gal, no--that is, provided you and your brother do your
+parts well."
+
+"We has pwomised," said Diana, with great firmness; "you needn't be
+fwightened; we has pwomised."
+
+The children were to appear as the last item of the first part of the
+performance. Uncle Ben felt that on them really turned the success of
+the evening. At last the crucial moment arrived. Two beautiful horses
+were led into the circus, and immediately afterwards little Diana,
+holding Orion by the hand, skipped on to the stage. She came lightly
+forward, almost up to the footlights, dropped a somewhat pert little
+courtesy, turned round, and, taking Orion's hand, danced up to where
+the two horses were impatiently pawing the ground. Uncle Ben, with
+his big whip in his hand, dressed in evening clothes, was standing at
+one side. A man came forward to help Diana to mount Pole Star--another
+gave his hand to Orion.
+
+"'Member, Orion, you has pwomised, and it all apends," said Diana, in
+a low, but very clear, voice.
+
+The little fellow looked at her. Her spirited action, the splendid
+color in her cheeks, the glow of excitement in her great big eyes,
+inspired him. He would not ride for those horrid people who were
+crowding all the seats in front, those horrid, terrible people who
+seemed to rise from the floor to the ceiling. He did not care anything
+about those faces, those cruel, staring eyes, those smiling lips; but
+he did care for Diana. He would ride his best for her.
+
+"Steady, G'eased Lightning," said the little girl; "you's to be good
+horse, 'member. Now, Pole Star, beauty, darlin', do just what Diana
+wants."
+
+The horses began to canter forward, going briskly and swiftly side by
+side. Greased Lightning's coal-black eye was fixed upon Diana as she
+sat on Pole Star's back. Pole Star felt the feather-weight of the hot
+hand on his mane, the touch of the little feet somewhere near his
+neck. There was a magnetic current of sympathy between the horse and
+the child.
+
+"Think you's a giant," she said once to Orion, as she shot past him in
+the race.
+
+The crowd, speechless with astonishment and delight for the first
+moment or two, now began to clap and cheer loudly. Crack went Uncle
+Ben's whip. The circus girls in the wings, the men, the clown, all
+watched the little pair with beating hearts. Diana they felt sure of,
+but what of little Orion? And yet a change had come over the child.
+His face was no longer pale; some of Diana's spirit seemed to have
+entered into his soul.
+
+The signal came for the pair to stand upon the bare, backs of their
+horses. Little Orion scrambled as quickly and nimbly to his feet as
+Diana herself. He caught the reins; crack again went the whip; the
+horses flew round and round. Now and then Diana said a soft word to
+Greased Lightning; now and then she stamped her small foot on Pole
+Star's neck. Each movement, each glance of the child, seemed to thrill
+through the willing beast. Incomprehensible as it may seem, both these
+wild, half-tamed creatures loved her. They kept straight, veering
+neither to left nor right, for her sake.
+
+The first part of the performance went safely through, but now came
+the more difficult and dangerous time. The children were now not only
+to ride the horses standing, but they were obliged to ride holding one
+foot in the air, then to keep on their steeds standing on tiptoe, and
+finally they had to spring through great rings made of tissue paper,
+and leap again upon the horses as they galloped through. Diana
+performed her task with unfailing exactness, always reaching the
+horse's back at the right moment, springing up, sitting down, standing
+first on one foot, then on the other, being apparently on wires,
+afraid of nothing, triumphant through all. Orion made a gallant effort
+to follow her example. In two minutes now the whole thing would be
+over.
+
+"Don't be fwightened, Orion; time's nearly up," whispered the gay,
+brave little voice in his ear.
+
+The horses flew, the children moved as if they were puppets, and all
+might now have been well if at that moment Diana herself--Diana the
+fearless, the brave, the unconquerable--had not slipped, slipped at
+the very moment when she was springing through one of the rings. The
+horse galloped on without her, and she lay prone upon the floor of the
+circus. Uncle Ben rushed madly to the rescue, and before Orion's horse
+had reached the spot he had caught the child in his arms. She was
+stunned by the fall, and lay white as death in his embrace. The house
+thought the fall had killed her, and there was a horrified murmur; but
+Diana was only stunned. In a moment she raised her cheery little
+voice.
+
+"I's awfu' sossy; I's all wight now," she said. "Where's Pole Star?"
+
+"Nay, little gal," said Uncle Ben, knowing well the temper of the
+house, "you must do no more to-night. The company, I know, will excuse
+you."
+
+Seating the child on his shoulder, and patting her hand
+affectionately, as if he were her father, he brought little Diana to
+the front.
+
+"I hope, ladies and gentlemen," he called out, "that you will excuse
+this great lady huntress to-night. But if you wish her to take another
+turn round on the back of the great Pole Star, she is willing to
+comply."
+
+"No!" shouted voice after voice in the gallery; "let little missy off.
+We'll come to see little missy another night. Three cheers for little
+missy!"
+
+The next moment Diana and Orion found themselves at the back of the
+stage.
+
+"Is it true, Di?" gasped Orion. "Is it all over?"
+
+"Yes; it's all over," answered little Diana. She leaned against the
+wall. "I's a bit giddy," she said; "but I'll be all wight by and by."
+
+Aunt Sarah, with tears in her eyes, brought the child a restorative.
+
+"Drink this, little love," she said; "you'll soon be much better, I'm
+sure."
+
+The curtain had fallen on the first half of the performance, and Uncle
+Ben came up in a huge good humor.
+
+"Missy, I hope you aint hurt," he said.
+
+"Hurt?" answered Diana. "What do a fall matter? I's as wight as wain.
+Didn't Orion do well, Uncle Ben?"
+
+"Yes, all things considerin'," said Uncle Ben. "We has a full house,
+missy, and I'm very much obliged to you. Now you had best go straight
+to bed. Sarah, take the kids off and give them a good supper, for they
+has earned it."
+
+Aunt Sarah took Diana's hand and led her to their bedroom.
+
+"But aren't we going away now?" said Orion.
+
+Aunt Sarah sat down at the foot of one of the beds with a white face.
+
+"Come to me, little missy," she said to Diana.
+
+The child went to her.
+
+"I's k'ite well," she said, "only a little giddy. Why, Aunt Sawah,
+you's kying."
+
+"I thought you were dead for a minute, my little miss; you that is the
+image of my Rachel, what the good God took from me. I thought you were
+dead, and it 'most broke my 'eart--oh, little missy, little darlin'!"
+
+"But, Diana, aren't we going away?" Said Orion. "You promised, and you
+never broke your word."
+
+"I pwomised, and I never break my word," said Diana. "Yes, Orion, yes;
+we is going away."
+
+"I declare," said Aunt Sarah, "I believe it would be the right thing
+to do. It would kill me if you was killed, missy--and them 'orses!"
+
+"They is darlin's," interrupted Diana.
+
+"Well, go to sleep now, and I'll fetch some supper," said Aunt Sarah.
+
+She shut the door behind the children, returning in a few minutes with
+bowls of bread and milk. Diana sat listlessly down on the nearest
+bench.
+
+"I's awfu' s'eepy," she said.
+
+She did not quite know what was the matter with her; it seemed as if
+something had suddenly knocked all her spirit away. She did not know
+herself without the brave spirit which God had put into her little
+breast. Orion gazed at her anxiously.
+
+"You do look queer," he said; "your eyes are bigger than ever, and
+they stare so. What's the matter, Di?"
+
+"Nothing," said Diana.
+
+"Aren't you going to eat your supper?"
+
+"I's wather sick," said Diana; "I don't want to eat. You had best eat
+all you can, Orion."
+
+"Yes, I had best," answered Orion, "'cos I won't have strength to run
+away if I hasn't plenty of food."
+
+He began to eat up his own basin of bread and milk, and, as it was not
+too large, he thought he might attack Diana's also; then he gave her
+an anxious glance. She was sitting strangely still, her hands lying
+idly in her lap, her eyes staring straight at the opposite wall.
+
+"'Member we is going away, and that you promised," he said. "Isn't it
+time for us to be off?"
+
+"Yes, Orion," she answered.
+
+"Well, drink off this teeny drop of milk; it will strengthen you." He
+brought the bowl to Diana, who sipped of a few spoonfuls; but then she
+shook her head.
+
+"I's sick," she said; "it aren't good to eat when you is sick."
+
+"Well, do come now," said Orion. "If you don't go at once they will
+find us; and you promised, and you never broke your word yet."
+
+"I underland," said Diana; "I would not bweak my word; that would be
+mean."
+
+"Well, let us go now."
+
+Diana slipped off the little bench on which she had seated herself.
+She was still in her circus dress; her little bow was hung at her
+side, her arrow slung round her neck. Orion was also in his pretty
+dress, with his tiny sword and belt, his blue jacket and little white
+knickers.
+
+"Let's put on our shoes," he said; "we can't go far in bare feet."
+
+"We can't go far in bare foots," echoed Diana, in a dreary sort of
+voice. "I's s'eepy. Shall we wun away in the morning, Orion?"
+
+"No; to-night! to-night!" he said, in terror. "You'll break your
+promise if we don't go to-night."
+
+"All wight," she answered.
+
+He brought her shoes, slipped them on her feet, buttoned them, and put
+on his own; then he took her hand in his. They opened the door of
+their bedroom and ran down a long passage, at the end of which was
+another door; it was on the latch. Orion opened it, and the little
+children found themselves at the back of the stage. There were no
+people about to see them, even Aunt Sarah was far away in one of the
+wings.
+
+"There! we is safe," said Orion. "We has runned away, and we are
+safe."
+
+"We has wunned away and we is safe," echoed Diana, in that dreary
+little voice. "But, Orion, I's drefful s'eepy."
+
+"Never mind," said Orion; "we'll sleep in the fields."
+
+"We'll s'eep in the fields," echoed Diana, in a vague manner.
+
+Orion took her hand; they ran as fast as they could down a shady lane,
+for the great circus tent had been put outside the town.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+THE MILKMAN.
+
+
+It was a lovely summer's night, and as the children ran, Orion looked
+up at the stars.
+
+"Why, it's a starful night!" he cried, in a joyful voice, "and there's
+me. Do look at me, Di! There I am up in the sky, ever so big and
+'portant."
+
+"So you is," said Diana, laughing and then checking herself. "Is it
+far to----"
+
+"To where, Di?"
+
+"To the garding," said Diana; "to the dead-house where Rub-a-Dub is.
+Let's go and sit on the little bench and see the dead 'uns--let's
+count 'em; I wonder how many there is!" She stopped suddenly and gazed
+around her.
+
+"What do you mean?" said Orion, in some alarm. "We are nowhere near
+the garden. Don't you know where we are, Diana?"
+
+"Yes, I do now, course," she answered, with a laugh. "I think I was
+dweaming; it's my head; it's keer. I want to s'eep awfu'."
+
+"Well, here are the fields," said Orion; "here's a beautiful green
+field, and the moon is shining on it. Oh, and there's a hole in the
+hedge; let's creep in."
+
+"Let's k'eep in," said Diana.
+
+They pushed their way through the hole and found themselves in a
+clover field. The clover, slightly wet with dew, felt very refreshing
+to their hot little feet.
+
+"Isn't this 'licious?" said Diana. "Let's lie down on the g'een
+g'ass; let's s'eep here; I's awfu' s'eepy."
+
+"It's very near the circus," said Orion. "I'm rather frightened for
+fear Uncle Ben will find us."
+
+"No, he won't; it's all wight," said Diana.
+
+She allowed her little brother to lead her as far as the hedge, and
+then nothing would persuade her to go any further. Down on the damp
+grass she flung herself, and then next moment was fast asleep.
+
+Orion, aged six, did not think it wrong for Diana to sleep on the wet
+grass. The moon shone all over her bare little legs. She folded her
+arms when she lay down, and now there was not a stir, nor a movement
+from her.
+
+Far away, or at least it seemed far away to little Orion, he could see
+the blinking lights of the town, and when he stood on tiptoe he could
+also see the lights of the merry-go-rounds and the other
+accompaniments of the great circus. He knew that he was dreadfully
+near his tyrants, and he longed beyond words to awaken Diana and make
+her go farther away; but she was asleep--dead tired. He never could
+master her. There was nothing, therefore, but for him to lie down
+also, close to her.
+
+Accordingly, he flung himself on the grass, laid his head on her
+shoulder, nestling up close to her for warmth and protection, and in a
+few moments he had also forgotten his fears, and was calmly living in
+the blessed land of dreams. The great Orion overhead looked down on
+his tiny namesake, and the little boy dreamt that he was a giant in
+very truth, and that he and Diana were fighting their way through the
+world.
+
+The children slept, and presently the creatures of the night came
+out--the owls, and the bats, and the night moths--and looked with
+wonder at the queer little pair lying prone amongst the green clover.
+Thousands of wonderful night noises also began to awaken in all
+directions--the merry chirp of the cricket, the whir of the bat on its
+circling flight, the hum of the moths--but the children heard nothing,
+although the creatures of the night were curious about these strange
+little beings who, by good rights, ought not to be sharing their
+kingdom.
+
+At last, just when the first peep of dawn began to tinge the east,
+little Orion opened his eyes and rubbed them hard. With a great rush
+memory returned to him. He had run away; he had ridden Greased
+Lightning and had not fallen from his back; his terrible life in the
+circus was at an end. Uncle Ben was nowhere near to chide him. He and
+Diana had got off; but it was true that they had not put a great
+distance between themselves and Uncle Ben. Perhaps Uncle Ben, who had
+promised that he might go away if he did his part well, might change
+his mind in the morning. It was most important that he and his sister
+should go farther away as quickly as possible.
+
+Accordingly, he proceeded to wake Diana. Diana was very sound asleep
+indeed. He could see her face distinctly, for the first faint return
+of day was spreading a tender glow over it. She did not look pale;
+there was a hot spot on either cheek--a spot of vivid rose.
+
+"I am cold enough," thought the little fellow, "but Diana seems warm.
+Wake up, Di; wake up!" he said. "We has runned away, but we has not
+run far enough. Wake up, Di, and let's go on."
+
+Diana did not stir at all at his first summons. He spoke loudly,
+looking around him as he did so in some terror. A night owl,
+preparing to go home, was seated on a tree near by. The owl looked at
+Orion and hooted in a very melancholy manner. His voice seemed to say:
+
+"I never saw two greater little fools than you children in all my
+life."
+
+Orion felt rather afraid of the owl. Having failed to awaken Diana by
+words, he proceeded to shake her. This device succeeded. She opened
+her great, big, sleepy eyes and stared around her in bewilderment.
+
+"So you is our little mother now, Iris?" she said. "All wight; I's
+coming."
+
+She sat up on her grassy bed and rubbed her eyes, then stared at Orion
+and burst out laughing.
+
+"What are you laughing at?" said Orion. "We are in awful danger here.
+Uncle Ben may catch us any minute."
+
+"Who's Uncle Ben?" asked Diana.
+
+"Why, Di! how very queer you are. Don't you remember Uncle Ben, the
+awful man who has the circus?"
+
+"No, I don't," said Diana. "Is it true that Rub-a-Dub's dead?"
+
+"Oh, Di! Rub-a-Dub died weeks ago. What does it matter about a mouse?
+I'm frightened about Uncle Ben. If he catches us he'll change his
+mind, perhaps, and I cannot ride Greased Lightning again. Don't speak
+so queer, Di. Do rouse yourself. We must get out of this as fast as we
+can."
+
+"As fast as we can," echoed Diana. "All wight, Orion; I's k'ite
+sati'fied."
+
+"Well, come, then," said Orion; "get up."
+
+"I don't think I care to."
+
+"But we can't run away if you are lying there."
+
+"No more we can," said Diana. She laughed again. "Isn't it fun?" she
+said. "And so Rub-a-Dub isn't dead after all?"
+
+"Yes; of course he is."
+
+"Orion, look!" said the child; "look!"
+
+"Look at what?" answered the little fellow. "Oh, Diana! don't say it's
+Uncle Ben!"
+
+"I don't know nothing 'bout no Uncle Ben; but didn't you see something
+flash there?--something white, just over there? I know who it was; it
+was mother. Mother has gone to the angels, but she has come back.
+Mother! mother! come here! Call her, Orion; call her, call her!"
+
+"Mother! mother!" said the little boy; "mother, come here!"
+
+But there was no answer to this cry, which, on the part of Orion at
+least, was full of agony. No answer either from the heaven above or
+the earth beneath.
+
+"It was a mistake, I s'pect," said Diana. "Mother is in heaven; she's
+a beautiful angel, singing loud. Well, let's come 'long." She
+staggered to her feet, and, supported by Orion, began to walk across
+the field. "Let's go into the garding," she said.
+
+Poor little Orion was quite in despair.
+
+"We are miles from the garden," he said. "I think you have gone
+silly."
+
+"S'pect I has," said Diana. "What fun!"
+
+"And you have got such a queer look on your face."
+
+"A k'eer look on my face?" repeated Diana.
+
+"Yes; and your eyes, they are ever so big; they frighten me."
+
+"My eyes k'ite fwighten you, poor little boy," said Diana. "Well,
+let's wun; let's get to the garding. Why, it's the day mother went
+away to the angels, and we has got no lessons. Where's Iris? I want
+Iris."
+
+"So do I," said Orion. "Oh, Di! what is to become of us? You frighten
+me."
+
+"K'ite fwighten poor little boy," echoed Diana. "I's sossy, but I
+can't help it. I's giddy in my head. Does this way lead to garding,
+Orion?"
+
+"No. What are we to do?" said Orion. "Oh, I am so frightened!" He
+really was. Diana's strange behavior was more than he could
+understand. "Oh, I'm so bitter hungry!" he cried. He flung himself on
+the grass.
+
+Diana stood and looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face.
+
+"Why, you is a poor little boy," she said. "Now, if you'll take my
+hand we'll go indoors, and Fortune will give us a lovely bekfus. Come,
+Orion; don't be fwightened, poor little boy."
+
+They walked across the field. By this time the sun was up and the
+place felt warm and dry. Little Orion, shivering in his queer circus
+dress, was glad of this, and a faint degree of returning courage came
+into his heart.
+
+Diana did not seem to feel anything at all. She walked along, singing
+as she walked.
+
+"We's going to the dead-house," she said. "Rub-a-Dub's dead."
+
+    "You'll never know fear any more,
+               Little dear;
+    Good-by, Rub-a-Dub."
+
+"Oh, don't Di! You make me feel so frightened," said Orion. "Why do
+you talk like that? Can't you 'member nothing?"
+
+"Course I 'member," said Diana. "Rub-a-Dub's dead."
+
+    "Never know fear,
+      Little dear;
+    Rub-a-Dub's dead."
+
+"Come this way," said Orion, taking her hand.
+
+She was quite willing to follow him, although she did not in the least
+know where she was going.
+
+"S'pect I aren't well," she said at last. "Don't be fwightened, poor
+little boy. S'pect I aren't k'ite well."
+
+"I's so hungry," moaned Orion.
+
+"Well, let's go into the house; let's have bekfus. Where's Fortune?
+Come 'long, Orion; come 'long."
+
+They had reached the highroad now, and were walking on, Orion's arm
+flung round Diana's waist. Suddenly, rattling round a corner of the
+country road, came a man with a milk cart. He was a very
+cheery-looking man with a fat face. He had bright blue eyes and a
+kindly mouth.
+
+"Hullo!" he said, when he saw the two little children coming to meet
+him. "Well, I never! And what may you two be doing out at this hour?"
+
+Diana gazed up at him.
+
+"I's going to the garding," she said. "I's to meet Iris in garding. We
+is to 'cide whether it's to be a pwivate or a public funeral."
+
+"Bless us and save us!" said the man.
+
+"Don't mind her," said Orion; "she's not well. She fell off a horse
+last night, and there's something gone wrong inside her head. I s'pect
+something's cracked there. She's talking a lot of nonsense. We has
+runned away, and we is desperate hungry. Can you give us a drink of
+milk?"
+
+"Well, to be sure," said the man, smacking his lips as he spoke. "I
+never saw anything like this afore, and never heard anything like it,
+neither. Why, it's like a page out of a printed book. And so you has
+run away, and you belong to the circus, I guess. Why, you are in your
+circus dresses."
+
+"See my bow and arrow," said Diana. "I is the gweat Diana; I is the
+gweatest huntwess in all the world."
+
+"To be sure; to be sure!" said the man.
+
+"And I am Orion," said the boy, seeing that Diana's words were having
+a good effect. "You can watch me up in the sky on starful nights. I am
+a great giant, and this is my girdle, and this is my sword."
+
+"I never heard anything so like a fairy tale afore," said the man.
+"Are you sure you are human, you two little mites?"
+
+Diana took no notice of this.
+
+"I want to get into the garding," she said. "I want to lie down in the
+garding; I want Iris; I want mother. Man, do you know that my mother
+has gone away to the angels? She is playing a gold harp and singing
+ever so loud; and once we had a little mouse, and it was called
+Rub-a-Dub, and it's deaded. We gived it a public funeral."
+
+"Oh, do let us have some milk, and don't mind her!" said Orion.
+
+The man jumped down off the cart, and, turning a tap in the great big
+can, poured out a glass of foaming milk. He gave it to Orion, who
+drank it all off at the first draught. He then filled out a second
+measure, which he gave to Diana. She took it, raised it to her lips,
+took one or two sips, and then gave it to Orion.
+
+"There's something sick inside of me," she said. "I don't know what's
+the matter; I isn't well."
+
+"She had a bad fall last night at the circus," said Orion. "She fell
+from one of the rings. I s'pect something's cracked inside her head."
+
+"I s'pect something's c'acked inside my head," echoed Diana, looking
+up piteously. "I want to go to the garding; I want to lie down."
+
+"Well, look here," said the man; "this is more than I can understand.
+You had best, both of you, go back to the circus, and let the people
+who has the charge of you see what's the matter."
+
+"No!" screamed Orion; "never! never!"
+
+He suddenly put wings to his little feet, and began to fly down the
+road, away from the milkman.
+
+Diana stood quite still.
+
+"Aren't he silly little boy?" she said. "But he mustn't go back to
+circus, milkman; it would kill him. I isn't able to wide to-day, 'cos
+I's c'acked inside my head; and he mustn't wide without me, 'cos it
+would kill him. Couldn't we go to your house, milkman, and rest there
+for a bit?"
+
+"Well, to be sure; I never thought of that," said the man. "So you
+shall, and welcome. Jump up beside me on the cart, missy."
+
+"I can't, 'cos my head's c'acked," said Diana.
+
+"Then I'll lift you up. Here, you sit there and lean against the big
+milk can. Now, we'll set Peggy going, and she will soon overtake
+little master."
+
+Diana laughed gleefully.
+
+"Do you know, you's an awfu' nice man?" she said.
+
+"I am glad you think so, missy."
+
+The man took the reins and Peggy started forward. They soon overtook
+little Orion, who was lifted also into the milk cart. Then the milkman
+turned swiftly round and carried the children back to a small house on
+the outskirts of the town. When he got there he called out in a lusty
+voice:
+
+"Hi, Bessie! are you within?"
+
+A woman with a smiling face came to the door.
+
+"Now, what in the world is the matter with you, Jonathan?" she
+answered.
+
+"Only this, wife. I met the queerest little pair in all the world on
+the road. Can't you take them in and give them rest for a bit? I
+believe the little miss is hurt awful."
+
+"I's c'acked inside my head, but it don't matter," said Diana.
+
+The woman stared from the children to the man; then something in
+Diana's face went straight to her heart.
+
+"Why, you poor little mite," she said, "come along this minute. Why,
+Jonathan, don't you know her? Course it's the little missy that we
+both saw in the circus last night. Didn't I see her when she fell from
+the ring? Oh, poor little dear! poor little love!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+FORTUNE.
+
+
+Uncle William took the children straight up to London. They spent the
+night at a great big hotel, and in the morning he went alone to have a
+long consultation with one of the best detectives in New Scotland
+Yard. When he returned after this interview, Iris came to meet him
+with a wise look on her face.
+
+"I know what to do," she exclaimed.
+
+"Well, then, my dear, it's more than I do," replied Uncle William.
+
+"It's the only thing," repeated Iris. "Let's go straight home."
+
+"Home? Do you mean to the Rectory? Why, we have just come from there."
+
+"I don't mean the Rectory. I mean our real home," answered Iris.
+"Let's get back at once to Delaney Manor."
+
+"I don't see much use in that," answered Uncle William.
+
+"It's all a feel I have inside of me," replied Iris. "Often and often
+I get that feel, and whenever I obey it things come right. I have a
+feel now that I shall be nearer to Diana and to Orion in the old
+garden than anywhere else. I always try to obey my feel. Perhaps it's
+silly, but I can't help it. Do you ever get that sort of feel inside
+of you, Uncle William?"
+
+"If I did," replied Uncle William, "your Aunt Jane would say that I
+was the silliest old man she had ever come across."
+
+"But you aren't, you know. You are a right good sort," answered
+Apollo, in a patronizing tone.
+
+"I am glad you think so, my boy," replied Uncle William. "Well, now,"
+he added, "I always did hate London, and in the middle of summer it
+seems to me that it is wanting in air. I once heard a countryman say
+that he believed people only breathed turn about in London, and it
+really seems something like that this morning. The place is so close
+and so used-up that there is not a breath anywhere; so, Iris, if you
+have got that feel, and if you will promise not to tell your Aunt Jane
+that _that_ is your reason for returning to the Manor, why, we may
+just as well do so--only, I suppose, the place is all shut up."
+
+"Fortune, at any rate, is there," replied Iris; "and if anybody can
+help us to find Diana and Orion, it's Fortune; for she had them, you
+know, Uncle William, from the moment the angel brought them down from
+heaven. She had to do for them and nurse them, and tend them from that
+moment until Aunt Jane took them away. Oh, yes!" continued Iris; "if
+there is a person who will help us to find them, it's Fortune."
+
+"She partakes of the strange names which seem to run in your family,"
+answered Uncle William. "But there, it is as good an idea as any
+other, and we shall at least each of us have our proper number of
+breaths at Delaney Manor. That certainly is in favor of the scheme."
+
+Accordingly, that very afternoon, Uncle William, Iris, and Apollo took
+the train into Devonshire. They arrived at the Manor in the evening.
+Nobody expected them, and the place looked, to Uncle William, at
+least, very dull and desolate. But when Iris saw the quaint old
+gateway, and when Apollo felt his feet once again upon the well-known
+avenue, the sadness of heart which had oppressed both children seemed
+to lift itself as if it had wings and fly right away.
+
+"Let's go to the garden this very instant," exclaimed Iris, looking at
+her brother.
+
+They clasped each other's hands and, flying along the well-remembered
+haunts, soon reached their favorite garden.
+
+"Oh, Apollo! I live; I breathe again," said Iris, panting as she
+spoke. "Oh, I am happy once more!"
+
+"Let us see if anything has been injured while we were away," said
+Apollo. "Oh, I wonder if anybody has watered our pretty gardens. I
+planted a lot of mignonette the day before I went away. I wonder if it
+has come up."
+
+The children wandered about the garden. The dead-house was now empty;
+the four little gardens looked sadly the worse for want of watering
+and general looking after. The cemetery, however, looked much as
+usual; so also did the greenswards of grass, the roses, the different
+summer flowers; and finally Iris and Apollo visited the little
+summer-house, and seated themselves on their own chairs.
+
+"The garden has not run away," said Apollo. "That's a comfort. I'm
+real glad of that."
+
+"It's exactly like the garden of Eden," said Iris, panting as she
+spoke. "I don't think anybody," she continued, "could be naughty in
+this garden."
+
+Apollo kicked his legs in a somewhat impatient manner.
+
+"I feel dreadfully hungry, Iris," he said. "Suppose we go to the house
+now and have some supper."
+
+"Who is that coming down the walk?" said Iris.
+
+It was dusk by this time, and in the little summer-house all was dark;
+but Iris, as she spoke, sprang to her feet, and the next moment found
+herself clasped in Fortune's motherly arms.
+
+"My darling!" said the woman. "Why, it drives me near mad to see you
+again. And now, what in the world is up with the two of you, and where
+are the others? There's an elderly gentleman--a clergyman--in the
+house, and he said I was to look for you here, and that you were going
+to spend the night. What does it mean, Iris? Oh, my dear! I can't see
+your face, for it is too dark; but you are very light. Why, you are no
+weight at all, my honey."
+
+"I expect I'm rather worn out," replied Iris, in her old-fashioned
+tone. "You know, Fortune, when mother went away she told me to be a
+mother to the others, and--oh, Fortune, Fortune! I have failed, I have
+failed."
+
+Iris' little arms were clasped tightly round her old nurse's neck; her
+face was hidden against her bosom; her heavy sobs came thick and fast.
+
+"Why, my poor dear, you are exactly like a feather," said Fortune; "it
+aint to be expected that a young thing like you could be a mother. But
+what's gone wrong, dearie? what's gone wrong?"
+
+"They are lost. That's what has gone wrong," said Iris. "Orion and
+Diana are lost, Fortune."
+
+"Sakes alive, child! stand up and speak proper," said Fortune. "Your
+little brother and sister lost! Impossible; you are joking me, Iris,
+and that aint fair, seeing I was with you since you drew the breath
+of life."
+
+"Do you think I could joke upon such a subject?" said Iris. "You say I
+am like a feather--that is because I have all wasted away from--from
+fretting, from--from misery. Yes, Fortune, they are lost, and I wish I
+were dead. I feel it here so dreadfully." The child pressed both her
+hands against her heart. "I have not been a mother," she continued.
+"Oh, Fortune! what is to be done?"
+
+"You jest sit down on my lap and stop talking nonsense," said Fortune.
+"Why, you are trembling like an aspen. You jest rest yourself a bit
+alongside o' me. Now then, Master Apollo, tell me the whole truth,
+from beginning to end. The two children lost? Now, I don't believe it,
+and that's a fact."
+
+"You'll have to believe it, Fortune," said Apollo, "for it's true.
+They went out one day about a month ago--we think they must have gone
+to some woods not far from that horrid Rectory, but nobody seems to
+know for certain--and they just never came back. We missed them at
+tea-time, and we began to look for 'em, and we went on looking from
+that minute until now, and we have never found either of 'em. That's
+about all. They are both quite lost. What I think," continued the
+little boy, speaking in a wise tone, "is that Diana must have met the
+great Diana of long ago, and gone right away with her, and perhaps
+Orion has been turned into one of the stars that he's called after. I
+don't really know what else to think," continued Apollo.
+
+"Fudge!" said Fortune. "Don't you waste your time talking any more
+such arrant nonsense. Now, the two of you are as cold and shivery as
+can be, and I doubt not, as hungry also. Come straight away to the
+house. This thing has got to be inquired into."
+
+"Oh, Fortune! can you do anything?" asked Iris.
+
+"Can I do anything?" said Fortune. "I have got to find those blessed
+children, or my name's not Fortune Squeers. Did your mother bring me
+all the way from America to be of no use in an emergency like the
+present? You needn't fret any more, Iris; nor you either, Apollo. Just
+come right along to the house and have your cozy, warm supper, the two
+of you, and then let me undress you and put you into your old little
+beds, and I'll sleep in the room alongside of you, and in the morning
+we'll see about getting back those two children. Lost, is it? Not a
+bit of it. They are mislaid, if you like, but lost they aint--not
+while Fortune is above ground."
+
+Fortune's strong words were of the greatest possible comfort to Iris.
+It is true that Aunt Jane had told her somewhat the same, day by
+day--Aunt Jane was also sure that the children were certain to be
+found--but, as far as Iris could gather, she only spoke, and never did
+anything to aid their recovery; for Iris had no faith in detectives,
+nor secret police, nor any of the known dignitaries of the law. But
+she put the greatest possible faith in the strong, cheery words of her
+old nurse, and she returned to the house clasping Fortune's hand, and
+feeling as if the worst of her troubles were at an end.
+
+The greater part of Delaney Manor was shut up, and Fortune and two
+other old servants were left in charge; but very soon a comfortable
+meal was spread for the travelers, a room was provided for Uncle
+William, and Iris and Apollo slept once more in the dear old nursery.
+
+How very sound Iris did sleep that night! How happy she felt once
+more!
+
+Fortune had dragged in her bed, and laid it on the floor close to the
+little girl's side, and the sound of Fortune's snores was the sweetest
+music Iris had listened to for a long time.
+
+"Fortune will find the others, and I can be a real mother once more,"
+she whispered over and over to herself.
+
+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."
+
+"Then of course it goes without saying," continued Fortune, "that the
+gypsies passed on the little dears to other folk. Now the question is,
+What sort of folk would be interested in a little pair like them?
+They was both young, both lissom, both handsome, and Miss Diana was
+the bravest child I ever come across--maybe they was sold to someone
+to train 'em to walk on the tight rope."
+
+Uncle William smiled indulgently.
+
+"The detectives would certainly have found that out by this time," he
+said. "Besides, there were no traveling companies of any sort within a
+radius of quite fifteen miles."
+
+"Very well," said Fortune; "then, perhaps, sir, you'll allow me to
+manage things my own way. I aint a detective, but I'm bent on
+detective work for the time being. I'm going straight off to Madersley
+this morning. I'm going to have descriptions of those children printed
+in very big characters, and posted all over Madersley."
+
+"And why specially all over Madersley?" asked Mr. Dolman.
+
+"'Cos Madersley is, so to speak, their native town," answered Fortune.
+"Why, there aint a person in Madersley who don't know Delaney Manor;
+and strangers, when they come there, drive out to see Delaney Manor as
+they would any other big place, and folks at this time of year travel
+from far to stay at Madersley, because the place is bracing and the
+coast good for bathing. So you see, Mr. Dolman, there'll be lots of
+people who will read my descriptions, and when they read 'em they'll
+begin to talk about the children, and there's no saying what may
+happen."
+
+"It doesn't sound a bad idea," said Mr. Dolman.
+
+"Bad!" repeated Fortune. "It's a first-rate idea; it's an American
+idea. In America we never let the grass grow under our feet. I'm off
+to Madersley this minute to see after those posters. Why, we post up
+everything in America, every single thing that is lost, let alone
+children, and we do it in big type, as big as they make it, and we put
+the posters on the walls, and wherever there's a scrap of available
+space. By your leave, sir, I'm off to Madersley now."
+
+Fortune was as good as her word. She not only went to Madersley and
+interviewed some of the best printers in the place, but she also
+visited the police station, and told the police to be on the lookout.
+
+"For the two youngest little Delaneys are missing," she said, "and
+found they must be, if heaven and earth are moved to accomplish the
+job."
+
+The superintendent of police remembered that he had already had notice
+of two children being missing somewhere in the North of England, but
+as he thought it extremely unlikely that such children would come to
+the southwest, he had not troubled himself much about them. Fortune's
+words, however, stimulated his zeal, and he promised to keep a sharp
+lookout. The printer also was full of enthusiasm, and agreed to print
+posters which should even satisfy Fortune. He certainly did his best;
+and a day or two later flaming posters, in red and black ink, were
+pasted up all over the little town. In these, Fortune had given a most
+accurate description of little black-eyed Diana and Orion. Their ages
+were mentioned, their sizes, the color also of their eyes and hair.
+
+The immediate effect of these posters was to frighten Uncle Ben Holt
+considerably. He had been in a dreadful rage when first he discovered
+that Diana and Orion had taken him at his word and had decamped. He
+had been very cruel to every member of the troupe, and in especial to
+his poor wife. He vowed, and vowed, loudly, that he would not leave a
+stone unturned to find the children, and he also informed his wife
+that he would start off the following morning to acquaint the police
+with the fact that two of his troupe were missing.
+
+"Why," he said, "there's a fortune in that little gal; I must have the
+little gal. I don't think nothing at all of the boy. She was quite the
+most sperited little 'un I ever come across. Fact is, I would not lose
+her for a fifty-pund note."
+
+For two days Uncle Ben stormed, and the performances at the circus
+went languidly; but when, on the third morning, he saw the posters
+about the town, and when one happened to be pasted up exactly opposite
+his own circus, he began to cool down and to change his mind.
+
+"Where are you, Sarah?" he called out.
+
+His wife flew to answer the fierce summons of her lord and master.
+
+"I'm here, Ben," she answered.
+
+"'I'm here, Ben,'" he retorted, mimicking her tone. "There you are,
+Sarah, without the sperit of a mouse. Have you seen, or have you not,
+what's up all over the town?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure," replied Sarah Holt; "and it's a faithful
+description of the children. Why, they are as like what that
+description says of 'em as two peas, Ben."
+
+"I'm not saying they aint," snapped Ben, in a very indignant voice;
+"but what I do want to know is this--what's to be done if they are
+found and we are discovered to have bought 'em? We had all our plans
+arranged, and we have taken this field for a fortnight; but, bad as
+the loss will be to ourselves, it'll be better than the perlice
+discovering that we had anything to do with them children. The fact is
+this, Sarah: I'm going to pack our traps and be off out of this,
+to-night at the latest."
+
+"Perhaps you are right, Ben," said the woman, in a very sad tone;
+"only," she added, with a sigh, "if we are really going, may not I run
+up to Delaney Manor and just give 'em a hint? It seems so dreadful to
+me if anything should happen to them little kids, more particular to
+little Diana, who was the mortal image of my Rachel who died."
+
+"If you do anything of the kind I'll kill you," roared the man. "Do
+you want to see me locked up in prison for kidnaping children? No; we
+must be out of this to-night, and I must lose the ten pund I paid for
+the use of the field."
+
+By this time the news of the posters had spread not only through the
+whole town, but amongst the members of Ben Holt's troupe. The men and
+women in the troupe were all interested and excited, and whenever they
+had a spare moment they used to run out to read the poster which
+Fortune had been clever enough to dictate.
+
+Meanwhile, that good woman herself was by no means idle.
+
+"I have done something," she said to Iris, "and what I have done at
+Madersley ought to have been done before now all over the length and
+breadth of England. But now, Miss Iris, having put the posters up, it
+doesn't mean that we are to be idle. We have got to do more. I have my
+eye on that circus. They says it's a very pretty circus indeed, and
+there are a lot of entertaining spectacles to be viewed there. Now,
+what do you say to you and me and Mr. Dolman, if he likes to come, and
+Master Apollo going this afternoon to see the performance?"
+
+"I don't think I much care," answered Iris. "I don't seem to take any
+interest in anything just now."
+
+"Well, all the same, dear, I would like you to go. The best of us can
+but take steps, and when we has taken the steps that Providence seems
+to indicate, there's no use a-fretting ourselves into our graves.
+Folks are coming to Madersley now from the length and breadth of
+England, being such a pretty and such a favorite seaside resort. Let's
+go to the circus this afternoon, Miss Iris, and see what is to be
+seen."
+
+Iris could not follow Fortune's reasonings, but she submitted to her
+desire to pay a visit to the traveling circus, and, accordingly, that
+afternoon, the very last of Holt's stay at Madersley, two other little
+Delaneys entered the large tent and took their places in the front
+row. The children were accompanied both by Uncle William and Fortune.
+The curtain rose almost immediately after their entrance, and the
+performance began.
+
+For some reason or other it was sadly lacking in spirit, and a
+neighbor who sat not far from Fortune began to remark on the fact.
+
+"I wouldn't have paid three shillings for my seat if I had known the
+thing was so poor," she said. "Why, my husband was here last week and
+said it was downright splendid. But I suppose that was owing to the
+performances of the children."
+
+"The children?" inquired Fortune. "I see no children about."
+
+"Oh, well, there were two the other night--a little girl and boy; and
+they said the girl rode splendidly, and was the life of the whole
+thing. She was simply wonderful; she----"
+
+But here the curtain rose and the performance began anew. Fortune
+longed to question her loquacious neighbor, but when she turned
+presently to speak to her she found that she had left the tent.
+
+"Ho, ho!" thought the American woman to herself; "they had a boy and a
+girl here, had they, and they aren't here no longer. Now I wonder if I
+can strike that trail? Being from America it would be hard if I
+didn't, and also if I didn't succeed."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+FOUND!
+
+
+When the performance came to an end Fortune suggested to Uncle William
+that he should go to the best hotel in the place, and give Iris and
+Apollo some tea. Iris was loath to leave Fortune's side, but Fortune
+bent down and whispered to her to obey.
+
+"I am on the trail," she said, "and I don't want to be interrupted. I
+don't mind telling you, Iris, that the tea is all an excuse. You get
+your uncle to take you to the hotel, and keep him there until I join
+him. Now, go off this minute, like a good girl."
+
+Iris looked into Fortune's small, but honest, eyes, and felt once
+again that her feel was leading her in the right direction.
+
+"Uncle William, I should like some tea very much," she said.
+
+"Well, then, my dear, if you want tea you shall have it," replied
+Uncle William.
+
+He hailed a fly, and took the children immediately to the best hotel
+in the town.
+
+When Fortune found herself alone she turned round, and gazed to right
+and left of her. The great tent was almost empty, for the spectators
+had all departed; a few, however, were standing in little groups
+talking to one another. Fortune edged near one of these. It consisted
+of a good-looking young man and two pretty girls. They were standing
+opposite the poster which gave such a lifelike account of little
+Diana and Orion.
+
+"I see you are reading that poster," said Fortune, "and maybe you're
+interested?"
+
+"Why, of course we are," said one of the girls, turning and looking at
+Fortune.
+
+"Now, I wonder," continued Fortune Squeers, "if it lies anywhere in
+your power to give me a bit of help? Fact is, I'm interested in the
+children described in that poster, and as I was sitting inside the
+circus, I heard a neighbor say that the children belonging to your
+show were not present. Being an American, I never lose any clews, and
+there may be just the ghost of a chance that the children who were not
+at the performance to-day are the very identical same children that
+are written about in that there poster. Maybe you has heard of those
+children--that is, if you are Madersley folk?"
+
+"Yes, yes; we are Madersley folk," said the young man, now turning and
+speaking eagerly to Fortune.
+
+"Well, sir, do you know anything about the children who were not in
+the circus to-day?"
+
+"I have heard of them, of course," said the man. "Don't you remember,
+Amelia," he added, "when I came home last Saturday night how I told
+you we must go and see Holt's circus, for he had got a little girl who
+was riding wonderfully? I could not manage it on Saturday, and to-day,
+it seems, she's off."
+
+"And he had a boy as well, hadn't he?" said Fortune.
+
+"Yes, there was talk of a boy; but he didn't seem to have the spirit
+of his sister. Anyhow, they are neither of them playing to-day, and,
+for my part, I thought the performance lame."
+
+"Well, that's my opinion," said Fortune. "No American would go the
+length of the road to see anything so poor and common. And so the
+children are off--but the children were on. Now, I wish to goodness I
+could see those children."
+
+"I don't suppose they have anything to do with the lost children who
+are spoken of in these posters," said the man. "They say they were
+brown as gypsies, that the boy was timid, and the girl rode
+wonderfully. She must have been trained for some time to ride as well
+as she did."
+
+Not being able to get anything more out of these folks, Fortune turned
+on her heel and wandered in another direction. She crossed the
+entrance to the great tent, and made for the exit at the opposite side
+of the field. In doing this she ran right up against a fair-haired,
+rather pretty circus girl.
+
+"My dear," said Fortune, "you'll excuse my stopping to speak to you,
+but will you tell me if I can get into the town by the gate yonder?"
+
+"It's rather a roundabout way," answered the girl, "but you can go, of
+course. You will have to walk quite a way down a country lane, then
+turn to your left, and it will bring you to the other side of the
+town."
+
+"Fact is," continued Fortune, "I'm anxious to see some more of those
+posters. I'm mighty took with them. They seem to describe a most
+elegant little pair of children."
+
+The girl uttered a sigh and changed color.
+
+"Maybe, miss," said Fortune, fixing her with her keen eyes, "you can
+tell me something about 'em? Now, if you could, and would, it would be
+worth your while."
+
+"Oh, I know nothing at all," said the girl, in alarm. "What should I
+know?"
+
+"How is it," continued Fortune, "that the little children belonging to
+your circus were not present this afternoon? It seems a sort of
+cheating of the public."
+
+"The little children belonging to our circus?" repeated the girl. "But
+we hasn't no children." She turned very white now, and suddenly
+leaving Fortune, ran as fast as ever she could in the direction of the
+tent.
+
+Fortune followed her with her eyes. She saw a dark man peeping out.
+
+"That girl is frightened; she's hiding something," thought the woman.
+"There's no doubt the trail strengthens, and I, being an
+American--well, well, 'taint likely I'm going to leave off now. Yes,
+hot grows the trail."
+
+Fortune pursued her way. She had just reached the gate of the opposite
+exit of the field when a light hand was laid on her arm. Turning
+quickly, she saw the same girl.
+
+"For the love of God, madam," she said, "don't you tell on me--it's as
+much as my place is worth--he would kill me, if he knew--but we had
+two little kids here, and that poster in front of the circus gives
+their very description to a hair. But they have run away--they ran
+away some days ago, and God in heaven only knows where they are now."
+
+"What were their names?" asked Fortune.
+
+"Diana was the name of the girl----"
+
+"Diana!" cried Fortune. "You need not tell me any more; and so it was
+_you_ who stole 'em?"
+
+"I!" said the girl; "I had nothing to do with it. I was kind to 'em
+when I could, and nothing would ever frighten Diana. But oh, please,
+promise you won't tell on me--you won't let out that I said anything?"
+
+"No, my dear; I won't injure you," said Fortune; "but I must know
+this: When was it they ran away?"
+
+"Three nights ago, madam; and Ben Holt, he's fairly wild at losing the
+girl. He doesn't think anything at all about the boy, but the little
+girl--why, she won us all, she was so plucky and fearless. But they
+ran away three nights back, and no one knows where they are."
+
+"Don't keep me," said Fortune. "I'm much obliged to you; but don't
+keep me now."
+
+She left the field where the tent was, and began to walk rapidly down
+the lane.
+
+"Now, am I an American or am I not?" she thought. "Do I, or do I not,
+want the police to interfere in this matter? Do I, or do I not, want
+to find those children my very own self? They were here three nights
+ago, and they have run away. What can be the meaning of it?"
+
+Fortune pressed her hand to her forehead.
+
+"Well, if there's one thing more evident than another." she muttered
+after a pause, "it's this: I must not leave Madersley at present. I'll
+just go to the hotel and tell Mr. Dolman that I am on the trail, and
+that not all the coaxing and all the worriting in the world will get
+me off it until I have found those children."
+
+No sooner had this resolve formed itself in Fortune's stalwart mind
+than she hailed a fly and desired the man to drive her to the
+Madersley Arms. When she reached the big hotel she was shown at once
+into Mr. Dolman's presence.
+
+"Now, sir," she said; "I hope you have all had a good tea and enjoyed
+it."
+
+"Very much, thank you," replied Uncle William, who really, if the
+truth must be known, was having quite a delightful time--no Aunt Jane
+to pull him up, no sermons to write, and a vast amount of variety to
+occupy his mind. "We have enjoyed our tea, all of us," he said; "and
+now, Fortune, would not you like a cup? Iris, my dear, we'll ring the
+bell for some more hot water."
+
+"Thank you, sir" replied Fortune; "but I have no time to eat nor drink
+at present. I am on the trail, and no one can get me off it."
+
+"Do you really mean that you have had news of the children?"
+
+"I have had very positive news. Why, they belonged to the circus we
+went to see to-day! I had my suspicions as soon as ever I heard that
+woman talking and saying that the performance was miserably poor
+without the children. At that very instant it came right over me that
+it was our little Miss Di who had made things so sparkling and
+lively."
+
+"Oh, Fortune! let me go to her," cried Iris. "Is she there? Please,
+Fortune, take me to her at once."
+
+"Now, Iris, love, that's just what I can't do. Patience has to be
+exercised always in the matter of trails," continued Fortune; "and
+when we hurry or flurry ourselves we lose the scent, and then we are
+nowhere. The children did belong to the circus, for I had it from the
+lips of one of the circus girls. Poor innocent lambs, to think of them
+having anything to do with such a defiling place! But there they
+were, and there they would not stay, for three nights ago, Iris, they
+ran away, and nobody in the wide world knows where they are at the
+present moment."
+
+"Well, and what do you propose to do?" said Mr. Dolman. "For my part,
+I think the police----"
+
+"Excuse me, sir, this is a matter for me, not the police. I propose,
+sir, to stay at Madersley until I bring the children back. I hope to
+bring them back to-night."
+
+"To-night!" cried Iris. "Oh, Fortune! do you mean it?"
+
+"Yes, my love. I am an American, and I generally do what I say. I mean
+to bring the little dears back to their rightful home to-night. And
+now I'm off, and please expect me when you see me."
+
+Fortune turned abruptly and left the hotel. She walked down the High
+Street.
+
+"Now," she said to herself, "why should not I just go and pay a visit
+to my old friend and neighbor, Matty Bell. I want a woman that is a
+gossip just now, and if there is a gossip in the whole of Madersley,
+it's Matty Bell. As a rule, I can't abear her, but there are times
+when a gossiping woman comes in handy; and Matty's neither very low
+nor very high up in the world, so she's acquainted with all that goes
+on in both circles, the high and the low. Yes, I'll go to Matty this
+very moment; and as there's not any time to lose, I'll take a fly and
+drive there."
+
+Fortune hailed the first fly she came across, and was quickly borne to
+the abode of her old neighbor, Matty Bell.
+
+Matty Bell was a woman of about sixty years of age. At one time she
+had been a servant at Delaney Manor, but having married, and then lost
+her husband, she had set up in the laundry line. In that interesting
+trade she had done a thriving business, and kept a comfortable roof
+over her head. She had never had children, and consequently had plenty
+of time to attend to her neighbors' affairs.
+
+"Well, to be sure, Fortune, and what brings you here?" she said, when
+Fortune alighted from the fly. "Dear heart! I didn't know that you
+would care to leave Delaney Manor with all the troubles about."
+
+"And what troubles do you mean now, Matty Bell?" said Fortune, as she
+paid a shilling to the driver, and then tripped lightly into Matty's
+little front parlor.
+
+"Why, the death of the poor missus, Heaven bless her memory! and then
+the master going off to the other end of nobody knows where, and all
+them blessed little children took from their home and carried--oh, we
+needn't go into that, Fortune--it's been a trouble to you, and I see
+it writ on your face."
+
+"You are right there, Matty," said Fortune; "it has been a bitter
+trouble to me, and there's more behind, for the lady who took the
+children had no right to interfere, not having a mother's heart in her
+breast, for all that Providence granted her five babes of her own to
+manage. What do you think she went and did, Matty? Why, lost two of
+our children."
+
+"Lost two of 'em? Sakes alive! you don't say so!" replied Matty. "Have
+a cup of tea, Fortune, do; I have it brewing lovely on the hob."
+
+"No, thank you," replied Fortune. "I'm in no mood for tea."
+
+"Well, then, do go on with your story, for it's mighty interesting."
+
+"It's simple enough," replied Fortune. "Two of the children are lost,
+and now I have traced 'em to a circus in the town."
+
+"A circus here--what, Holt's?" said the woman.
+
+"No less. Why, Matty; you look queer yourself. Do you know anything?"
+
+"I know nothing for certain," said Matty. "I can only tell you--but
+there, perhaps I had better not say--only will you excuse me for a
+minute or two, Fortune?"
+
+"I'll excuse you, Matty, if you are on the trail of the children, but
+if you aren't, you had better stay here and let me talk matters over.
+You always were a fearful one for gossip, and perhaps you have picked
+up news. Yes, I see you have--you have got something at the back of
+your head this blessed minute, Matty Bell."
+
+"That I have," replied Mrs. Bell. "But please don't ask me a word
+more, only let me get on my bonnet and cloak."
+
+Mrs. Bell left the room, and quickly returned dressed in her widow's
+weeds, for though Bell had been dead for over ten years, his widow was
+still faithful to his memory; she slipped a thick crepe veil over her
+face, and went out, looking the very essence of respectability. She
+was not more than twenty minutes away, and when she came back she
+looked much excited. On each of her smooth, pasty cheeks might even be
+seen a little flush of color, and her dull blue eyes were brighter
+than their wont.
+
+"Fortune," she cried, "as there's a heaven above me, I've found 'em!"
+
+"Bless you, Matty; but where--where?"
+
+"Why, at no less a place than Jonathan Darling's."
+
+"Jonathan Darling? Who may he be?"
+
+"He's as honest a fellow, Fortune, as you can find in the whole of
+Madersley--he drives a milk cart. He found the two little dears three
+mornings ago, wandering about in their circus dresses, and he took 'em
+home."
+
+"Well," said Fortune, "well--then _that's_ all right. It was a
+trouble, but it's over, thank the good God. I could fall on my knees
+this moment and offer up a prayer; that I could, Matty Bell."
+
+Fortune's small, twinkling eyes were full of tears; she caught her
+neighbor's hand and wrung it hard.
+
+"And I bless you, Matty," she continued, "for you have put me on the
+right trail. I'll never blame a gossiping neighbor again, never as
+long as I live."
+
+"But you haven't heard me out to the end," said Matty, "for one of the
+little 'uns is very ill. You have found 'em, it is true; but it isn't
+all beer and skittles, Fortune Squeers."
+
+"One of the children ill?" said Fortune.
+
+"Yes; little Miss Diana. You come along and see her at once. They say
+she fell on her head out of a ring at the circus, and she must have
+hurt herself rather bad. Anyhow, she don't know a word she is saying,
+poor little dear."
+
+When Fortune heard this news she shut up her mouth very tight, tied
+her bonnet-strings, and followed her neighbor out of the house.
+
+The Darlings' humble little domicile happened to be in the next
+street, and in less than five minutes Fortune was standing over little
+Diana's bed. The child was tossing from side to side, her big eyes
+were wide open; she was gazing straight before her, talking eagerly
+and incessantly.
+
+"Is it to be a pwivate funeral?" she said, when Fortune entered the
+room, and, falling on her knees, clasped the hot little hands in hers.
+
+"Oh, my little darling!" said the good woman, "and have I really found
+you at last?"
+
+She sank down by the child and burst into more bitter tears than she
+had even shed when Mrs. Delaney went away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+THE LITTLE MOTHER TO THE RESCUE.
+
+
+Yes, the lost children were found, but little Diana was very ill. The
+blow she had received on her head had developed into inflammation of
+the brain. She was highly feverish, and did not in the least know what
+she was saying. Fortune immediately made up her mind not to leave her.
+After standing by her bedside for a minute or two, she went into the
+next room and asked Mrs. Darling if she would take a fly and go with
+little Orion to Delaney Manor.
+
+"You are going to your own home, my poor little boy," said the nurse,
+"and please tell your uncle and Iris and Apollo that I am staying here
+to look after Diana."
+
+The little boy was so excited at the prospect of being home once more
+that he forgot any small anxieties which he had experienced with
+regard to Diana. He started off, therefore, with Mrs. Darling in the
+highest spirits, and Fortune returned to the bedside of the sick
+child. Within a couple of hours after Orion's departure, Mr. Dolman
+arrived in person. When he saw Diana he immediately insisted on the
+best doctor in the place being sent for to see her.
+
+The medical man arrived; but, when he did so, he shook his head.
+
+"The child is dangerously ill," he said. "I could not hear of her
+being moved at present. She must have absolute quiet and good
+nursing."
+
+"I'm going to nurse her," said Fortune.
+
+"A properly trained nurse would be best," said the doctor.
+
+"I and no other am going to nurse her," repeated Fortune.
+
+She had taken off her bonnet and mantle and was seated quietly by the
+bedside. No one could look more capable, more determined, than the
+American woman did on this occasion. The doctor saw that he must give
+way.
+
+"Haven't I done for her from the blessed moment when she was sent from
+heaven into her mother's arms?" continued Fortune. "I shall nurse her
+now, whether it's the will of the Almighty that she lives or dies."
+
+At these words, little Diana opened her great, black eyes.
+
+    "And you'll never know fear
+    Any more, little dear,"
+
+she said in a voice of intense satisfaction. Then she looked up at
+Fortune, and raised her brow in a puzzled manner.
+
+"I aren't fwightened of G'eased Lightning," she said. A smile broke
+over her little face, then the light of reason once more faded, and
+she entered the dark region of delirium and danger.
+
+The doctor did all he could and Fortune did all she could, and
+presently Aunt Jane appeared on the scene, and insisted on seeing the
+child, and shook her head over her and cried a little privately; but,
+in spite of all their efforts to get her well again, little Diana
+grew weaker, day by day. She did not know Fortune, except at very
+rare intervals. Day and night she talked incessantly of her past life,
+of the beautiful garden, of the animals, of Rub-a-Dub, and more
+especially of Rub-a-Dub's public funeral. She also mentioned Greased
+Lightning and Pole Star, and Uncle Ben and the circus; but when she
+talked of them her voice changed; it grew high, eager, and excited,
+and her little breath panted out of her weary body. She often ended
+her delirious talk with a cry of distress.
+
+"Oh, I has fallen," she said, with a sob. "I has fallen from the
+wing." Then she would clasp both her hot hands to her aching head, and
+moan bitterly.
+
+The doctor was very anxious about her, and Fortune was very sad, and
+so was Uncle William, and even Aunt Jane.
+
+The cablegram was sent to father, and they all earnestly hoped that he
+was already on his homeward way.
+
+Meanwhile, at the Manor, Iris, Apollo, and Orion had a hard time. It
+is true that they were no longer fettered or coerced in any way. Aunt
+Jane took scarcely any notice of them, and Uncle William spent most of
+his time alone. The three children could come in and out of the house
+as they pleased; they could wander about the garden where four used to
+play happily; they could visit the old haunts that four used to love;
+but because the fourth was now absent, the joy and the mirth of the
+old days seemed quite to have left the remaining three.
+
+As time went by, Iris grew whiter and whiter. Often she wandered away
+by herself, and flinging herself on the ground, would moan out her
+distress.
+
+"Mother, mother," she used to sob, "I have not done what you told me;
+I have not been a little mother. Can you ever forgive me? Oh, if Diana
+dies, I am certain that I shall never forgive myself."
+
+At last, when a fortnight had passed by, Iris had a dream. She never
+told her dream to anyone, but she got up that morning with a very
+determined expression on her small face. After breakfast she went
+straight downstairs to the library, and spoke to Uncle William.
+
+"Uncle William," she said, "I want to say that I am going to see
+Diana."
+
+"My dear," said Uncle William, who was furtively at that moment wiping
+a tear from his eye, "I greatly fear that you cannot do so; we have
+had bad news of little Diana this morning. I greatly fear, Iris, that
+she will not be long with us; her strength is going, and there is
+little chance of the fever abating. The doctor has but a small hope of
+her recovery--in fact, I may almost say that he has no hope."
+
+"It is a fortnight since Diana was found, and you have never let me
+see her yet," continued Iris; "but I am going to her to-day. I had a
+dream last night," she continued, "and in my dream I--But I'm not
+going to say anything more, only I must see Diana to-day."
+
+"I am afraid you cannot do so, Iris," replied Uncle William.
+
+"And why not, if the child has the wish?" remarked Aunt Jane suddenly.
+
+Until that moment Iris had no idea that Aunt Jane was in the room. She
+started now when she heard her voice; but reading the expression on
+her face, she ran up to her eagerly.
+
+"If you are for it, Aunt Jane, it will be all right," she cried.
+"Please have a carriage ordered this minute and let me go."
+
+"I would not, if I were you, wife," said Uncle William. "You see how
+delicate Iris is already, and the sight of her little sister would
+shock her dreadfully."
+
+"She may just as well go," said Aunt Jane. "In my opinion, it would be
+wrong to leave any stone unturned, and Iris always had a remarkable
+influence over the other children. Besides, my dear William, when
+David comes back, I should not like Iris to have to tell him that I
+refused what, after all, is a very natural request."
+
+"Aunt Jane, I love you for those words," said Iris.
+
+Aunt Jane's face quite flushed when Iris said she loved her. She went
+across the room and rang the bell.
+
+"Desire the pony carriage to be sent round directly," was her order to
+the servant when he appeared.
+
+Accordingly, in less than half an hour, Iris and Aunt Jane were
+driving into Madersley. They went straight to the humble house where
+the Darlings lived. The greater part of the house was given up to
+little Diana and her nurse.
+
+"Please, Aunt Jane," said Iris, as they approached the door; "may I go
+into Diana's room by myself? I don't want anyone to be with me when I
+see her."
+
+"You may have it your way, Iris," said Aunt Jane. "I interfered once,
+and I believe I did wrong; now you shall have it your own way."
+
+"Thank you, Aunt Jane," answered Iris. She scarcely looked at her
+aunt; all her thoughts were centered on the mission which she had
+taken in hand. When the carriage drew up at the humble door, the
+child ran straight into the house.
+
+"Who may you be, little miss?" said Bessie Darling, who had never seen
+her before.
+
+"I am the sister of Diana; I am a mother to the others," said Iris.
+
+"Sakes alive!" exclaimed the woman. "You a mother? Why, you poor
+little mite, you look as if you wanted a deal of mothering yourself."
+
+"Please tell me what room my sister is in," said Iris, removing her
+hat as she spoke.
+
+Bessie Darling stared at her for a moment, then she pointed to a door.
+Iris turned the handle and entered the room.
+
+It was a hot day, and the window was wide open; a green blind was down
+to keep out the glare of the sun; there was a quantity of ice in a
+great pail in one corner of the room, and, as Iris softly entered,
+Fortune was in the act of putting a fresh cold cloth on the sick
+child's forehead.
+
+Little Diana was murmuring her ceaseless refrain:
+
+    "You'll never know fear,
+    Any more, little dear.
+        Good-by."
+
+"Why, Diana!" said Iris.
+
+Iris's voice was quite fresh. It had a different note in it from all
+the voices which for weeks had sounded in little Diana's ears. She was
+lying in a partial stupor, but now she opened her eyes very wide.
+
+"Iris," she said; "Iris." And a smile broke all over her face.
+
+Iris ran up to the bedside. She was always quiet in her manner; great
+excitement only accentuated her quiet. She knelt down at once by the
+sick child, and took both her hot hands in hers.
+
+"Darling," she said, "I am your little mother, and I have come back to
+you."
+
+"That's beautiful," answered Diana. She uttered a very deep sigh. She
+had been tossing restlessly about, but now her hot hands lay quiet in
+Iris'.
+
+As to Fortune, she was so amazed that she did not utter a word.
+
+"Go to sleep, Di," said Iris, in a voice of authority; "I am your
+little mother, and I wish you to go to sleep."
+
+"It's awfu' nice to be mothered again," said Diana. She opened her
+eyes languidly, fixed them on Iris, smiled once more, and then the
+thick lashes fell over the pale cheeks. In about five minutes she was
+sound asleep.
+
+Little Diana had often slept during the past fortnight, but during all
+that time she had had no sleep like this--so quiet, so restful. Iris,
+kneeling by her side, never moved.
+
+"Let me give you a chair or you'll faint, my love," said Fortune, in a
+low whisper.
+
+Iris shook her head.
+
+Soon afterwards Fortune softly left the room, and then there fell a
+deep and solemn silence over the little house.
+
+Aunt Jane, Bessie Darling, and Fortune all sat in the outer room. The
+heat grew greater; they opened both door and window, and a gentle
+breeze now blew through the sick-room. The child slept on. The little
+mother kneeling by her side remained as still as if she was carved in
+marble.
+
+About four in the afternoon the doctor came in.
+
+"Who is this?" he whispered, looking at Iris.
+
+"It's the eldest little sister, sir," said Fortune; "she came down
+here this morning quite unbidden, and she told the little one that she
+was her mother, and the little one smiled and went off sound asleep
+directly."
+
+The doctor, too, retreated into the outer room.
+
+"It is my belief that the little girl has saved the child's life," he
+said. "Whatever you do, don't make a sound; my little patient has not
+slept like this since the beginning of her illness. This sleep will
+probably be the turning-point. I shall not be far off; send for me
+whenever she awakens."
+
+The day wore on, the evening approached; and Iris still knelt by
+Diana's side, and Diana still slept. The sick child had no dreams in
+that healthful, beautiful, life-restoring slumber. Slowly, hour by
+hour, the fret and the worry left the little face, the burning fever
+departed, the little brow grew cool and calm; smiles--baby
+smiles--came once more round the lips; the old child-look--the old
+Diana-look--returned.
+
+Iris knelt on. Her knees ached, her arms ached, her head ached; she
+grew stiff; she grew first hot and then cold; but never once did she
+move or swerve from her original position. The great joy of her spirit
+supported her through the terrible ordeal. At long, long last she was
+really a little mother; she was saving Diana's life.
+
+Now and then Fortune approached to hold a cup of milk or other
+restorative to Iris' pale lips. She feared that the child might faint
+before Diana awoke. But great love enabled Iris to go through this
+time of suffering. She neither fainted nor failed.
+
+The beautiful healing sleep lasted for nearly eight hours; then, when
+faint, cool shadows had stolen across the sick room, little Diana
+opened her eyes. She saw Iris still kneeling in the same position and
+looking at her with a world of love in her face. Diana smiled back in
+answer to the love.
+
+"I's k'ite well, Iris," she said. "I's had a beaut'ful s'eep, and
+there's not going to be a pwivate nor yet a public funeral."
+
+"No, no, Di!" said Iris, sobbing now as she spoke.
+
+"I's hung'y," said little Diana. "I'd like my supper awfu' much."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The crisis was over, and Diana was to live. From that hour she
+recovered, slowly but surely. Iris was allowed to be with her a good
+deal, and the mere fact of Iris being in the room always seemed to
+chase the irritation and the weakness of that long recovery away. At
+the end of a fortnight the sick child was well enough to return to
+Delaney Manor. Then, from being half well she became quite well, and
+when the autumn really came, and the cool breezes blew in from the
+sea, father returned to his home once more, and he and Aunt Jane had a
+long talk, and it was finally arranged that the four children were to
+remain in the old home, and were to play in the old garden, and that
+father was to stay at home himself and look after them as best he
+could.
+
+"They are not ordinary children, and I frankly confess I cannot manage
+them," said Aunt Jane. "As to Iris, she is without exception the most
+peculiar child I ever came across; I know, of course, she is a good
+child--I would not say a word to disparage her, for I admire her
+strength--but when a child considers that she has got a mission----"
+
+"I know all about that," said David Delaney.
+
+"Iris thinks that she is to be a little mother to the others--those
+were Evangeline's last words to her. Well, Jane, it is a heavy burden
+for such a little creature to carry, but the fact of her obeying her
+mother's last injunction really saved little Diana's life."
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Little Mother to the Others, by L. T. Meade
+
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