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 wascalled Iris, which, as everybody ought to know, means rainbow--indeed, there was an Iris spoken of in the old Greek legends, who was supposedto be Hera's chief messenger, and whenever a rainbow appeared in thesky it was said that Iris was bringing down a message from Hera. TheIris of this story was a very pretty, thoughtful little girl, aged tenyears. Her mother often talked to her about her name, and told her thestory 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 tothe 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; butin their minds and ways, in their habits and tastes, they seemed tohave inherited a savor of those far-off beings after whom their motherhad called them. They were, in short, very unworldly children--thatdoes not mean that they were specially religious--but they did notcare for fine clothes, nor the ordinary amusements which ordinarychildren delight in. They loved flowers with a love which was almost apassion, and they also knew a great deal about the stars, and oftencoaxed their mother to allow them to sit up late at night to watch thedifferent constellations; but above all these things they adored, witha great adoration, the entire animal kingdom. It so happened that the little Delaneys spent the greater part oftheir time in a beautiful garden. I don't think, in all the course ofmy wanderings, I ever saw a garden quite to compare to that in whichtheir early days were spent. Even in the winter they lived the greaterpart of their time here, being hardy children and never catching cold. The house was a fine and beautiful building, having belonged to theirfamily for several generations, but the children thought nothing atall of that in comparison with the garden. Here, when possible, theyeven had their lessons; here they played all their wonderful andremarkable games; here they went through their brief sorrows, andtasted their sweetest joys. But I must hasten to describe the gardenitself. In the first place, it was old-fashioned, having very highbrick walls covered all over with fruit trees. These fruit trees hadgrown slowly, and were now in the perfection of their prime. Neverwere such peaches to be seen, nor such apricots, nor such cherries, asripened slowly on the red brick walls of the old garden. Inside thewalls almost all well-known English flowers flourished in lavishprofusion. There was also fruit to be found here in quantities. Neverwere such strawberries to be seen as could be gathered from thosegreat strawberry beds. Then the gooseberries with which the old busheswere laden; the currants, red, black, and white; the raspberries, hadsurely their match nowhere else on this earth. The walled-in garden contained quite five acres of ground, and wasdivided itself into three portions. In the middle was the flowergarden proper. Here there was a long, straight walk which led to anarbor at the bottom. The children were particularly fond of thisarbor, for their father had made it for them with his own hands, andtheir mother had watched its growth. Mrs. Delaney was very delicate atthe time, and as she looked on and saw the pretty arbor growing intoshape, she used to lean on Iris' arm and talk to her now and then inher soft, low voice about the flowers and the animals, and the happylife which the little people were leading. At these moments a lookwould 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 seatsinto it, a rustic chair for each child, which he or she could take inor out at pleasure. The chairs were carved in commemoration of eachchild's name. Iris had the deep purple flowers which go by that nametwined round and round the back of hers. Apollo's chair was madememorable with his well-known lyre and bow, and these words werecarved round it: "The golden lyre shall be my friend, the bent bow mydelight, and in oracles will I foretell the dark future. " Diana's chair had a bow and quiver engraved on the back, while littleOrion's represented a giant with a girdle and a sword. The childrenwere very proud of their chairs, and often talked of them to oneanother, and Iris, who was the story-teller of the party, was nevertired of telling the stories of the great originals after whom she andher brothers and sister were named. Down the straight path which led to the pretty arbor were Scotchroses, red and white. The smell of these roses in the summer was quiteenough to ravish you. Iris in particular used to sniff at them andsniff at them until she felt nearly intoxicated with delight. The central garden, which was mostly devoted to flowers, led throughlittle, old-fashioned, somewhat narrow postern doors into the fruitgardens on either side. In these were the gooseberries. Here were tobe found the great beds of strawberries; here, by-and-by, ripened theplums and the many sorts of apples and pears; here, too, were thegreat glass houses where the grapes assumed their deep claret colorand their wonderful bloom; and here also were some peculiar andmarvelous foreign flowers, such as orchids, and many others. Whenever the children were not in the house they were to be found inthe garden, for, in addition to the abundance of fruit and vegetables, it also possessed some stately trees, which gave plenty of shade evenwhen the sun was at its hottest. Here Iris would lie full length onher face and hands, and dream dreams to any extent. Now and then alsoshe would wake up with a start and tell marvelous stories to herbrothers and sister. She told stories very well, and the others alwayslistened solemnly and begged her to tell more, and questioned andargued, and tried to make the adventures she described come reallyinto 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 mostafter her beautiful mother, and thought more than any of the others ofthe peculiar names after which they were all called. On a certain day in the first week of a particularly hot and lovelyJune, 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 thanusual, 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 onthe 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 poorinnocent in his mouth and shook it; but I think it was quite deadedbefore that. " "Then, if it is dead, it must be buried, " said Iris solemnly. "Bringit into the arbor, and let us think what kind of funeral we will giveit. " "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 throughthe midst of the Scotch roses. Having reached the pretty littlesummer-house, she seated herself on her rustic chair and waited untilDiana arrived with the poor innocent. This was a somewhat unsightlyobject, being nothing more nor less than a dead earthworm which hadbeen found on the walk, and which Diana respected, as she did all livecreatures, great or small. "Put it down there, " said Iris; "we can have a funeral when the sun isnot quite so hot. " "I suppose it will have a private funeral, " said Apollo, who came intothe 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 addedeagerly, "that you will not expect me to be present, for I have gotsome most important chemical experiments which I am anxious to go onwith. I quite hope to succeed with my thermometer to-day, and, afterall, 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 satdown submissively on his own chair. Orion and Diana dropped on theirknees by Iris' side. "I think, " said Iris slowly, "that we will givethis poor innocent a simple funeral. The coffin must be made of dockleaves, and----" Here she was suddenly interrupted--a shadow fell across the entrancedoor of the pretty summer-house. An elderly woman, with a thin faceand lank, figure, looked in. "Miss Iris, " she said, "Mrs. Delaney is awake and would be glad to seeyou. " "Mother!" cried Iris eagerly. She turned at once to her sister andbrothers. "The innocent must wait, " she said. "Put it in thedead-house with the other creatures. I will attend to the funeral inthe 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. " Thewoman who had brought the message had already disappeared down thelong 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'thold on to my hand, miss. In hot weather I hate children to cling tome. " Iris said nothing more, but she withdrew a little from Fortune's side. Fortune hurried her steps, and Iris kept time with her. When theyreached the house, the woman stopped and looked intently at the child. "You can go straight upstairs at once, miss, and into the room, " shesaid. "You need not knock; my mistress is waiting for you. " "Don't you think, Fortune, that mother is just a little _wee_ bitbetter?" asked Iris again. There was an imploring note in her questionthis time. "She will tell you herself, my dear. Now, be quick; don't keep herwaiting. 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. Ithad been built, a great part of it, centuries ago, and had, like manyother houses of its date, been added to from time to time. Queerlyshaped rooms jutted out in many quarters; odd stairs climbed up inseveral directions; towers and turrets were added to the roof;passages, some narrow, some broad, connected the new buildings withthe old. The whole made an incongruous and yet beautiful effect, thenew rooms possessing the advantages and comforts which modern buildersput into their houses, and the older part of the house the quaintdevices and thick, wainscoted walls and deep, mullioned windows of thetimes 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 DelaneyManor. They had been brought all the way from Italy by a Delaneynearly a hundred years ago, and were made of pure marble, and werevery lovely to look at. When Iris reached the first landing, sheturned aside from the spacious modern apartments and, opening a greenbaize door, ran down a narrow passage. At the end of the passage sheturned to the left and went down another passage, and then wended herway up some narrow stairs, which curled round and round as if theywere going up a tower. This, as a matter of fact, was the case. Presently Iris pushed aside a curtain, and found herself in an octagonroom nearly at the top of a somewhat high, but squarely built, tower. This room, which was large and airy, was wainscoted with oak; therewas a thick Turkey carpet on the floor, and the many windows wereflung wide open, so that the summer breeze, coming in fresh and sweetfrom this great height, made the whole lovely room as fresh and cheeryand full of sweet perfume as if its solitary inmate were really in theopen air. Iris, however, had often been in the room before, and had no time orthought now to give to its appearance. Her eyes darted to the sofa onwhich her young mother lay. Mrs. Delaney was half-sitting up, andlooked 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. Itwas not so much that her features were perfect, but they were full oflight, full of soul, and such a very loving expression beamed in hereyes that no man, woman, or child ever looked at her without feelingthe best in their natures coming immediately to the surface. As to little Iris, her feelings for her mother were quite beyond anywords 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 ofthe mother. "You are much better, mummy; are you not?" said the child, in aneager, 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. Ithought we could have half an hour uninterrupted. " "How beautiful, mother! It is the most delightful thing in all theworld to be alone with you, mummy. " "Well, bring your little chair and sit near me, Iris. Fortune willbring in tea in a moment, and you can pour it out. You shall have teawith me, if you wish it, darling. " Iris gave a sigh of rapture; she was too happy almost for words. Thiswas almost invariably the case when she found herself in her mother'spresence. When with her mother she was quiet and seldom spoke a greatdeal. In the garden with the other children Iris was the one whochattered most, but with her mother her words were always few. Shefelt herself then to be more or less in a listening attitude. Shelistened for the words which dropped from those gentle lips; she wasalways on the lookout for the love-light which filled the soft browneyes. At that moment the old servant, Fortune, brought in the tea on apretty tray and laid it on a small table near Mrs. Delaney. Then Irisgot 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 littledaughter. 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 wearsthat 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 scarcelytouched 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 comeup very near to me. I want to hold your dear little hand in mine; Ican'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 hersmall chair, slipped her hand inside her mother's. "I have made up my mind to tell you, Iris, " said the mother. Shelooked at the little girl for a full minute, and then began to talk ina low, clear voice. "I am the mother of four children. I don't thinkthere are any other children like you four in the wide world. I havethought a great deal about you, and while I have been ill have prayedto God to keep you and to help me, and now, Iris, now that I have gotto go away--" "To go away, mother?" interrupted Iris, turning very pale. "Yes, dearest. Don't be troubled, darling; I can make it all seemquite happy to you. But now, when I see it must be done, that I mustundertake this very long journey, I want to put things perfectlystraight between you and me, my little daughter. " "Things have been always straight between us, mother, " said Iris. "Idon'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 yearaway then. It was a very long time, and sometimes, mother, sometimesFortune was a little cross, and Miss Stevenson never seemed to suitApollo. 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 MissStevenson is concerned, in the future. It is not about her or FortuneI 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 thedistance just now. I have not time for many words, nor very muchstrength to speak. You know, Iris, the meaning of your names, don'tyou?" "Of course, " answered Iris; "and, mother, I have often talked to theothers about our names. I have told Apollo how beautiful he must tryto be, not only in his face, but in his mind, mother, and how braveand how clever. I have told him that he must try to have a beautifulsoul; and Orion must be very brave and strong, and Diana must bebright and sparkling and noble. Yes, mother; we all know about ournames. " "I am glad of that, " said Mrs. Delaney. "I gave you the names for apurpose. I wanted you to have names with meaning to them. I wanted youto try to live up to them. Now, Iris, that I am really going away, Iam afraid you children will find a great many things altered. You havehitherto lived a very sheltered life; you have just had the dear oldgarden and the run of the house, and you have seen your father or meevery day. But afterwards, when I have gone, you will doubtless haveto go into the world; and, my darling, my darling, the cold world doesnot always understand the meaning of names like yours, the meaning ofstrength and beauty and nobleness, and of bright, sparkling, and highideas. In short, my little girl, if you four children are to be worthyof your names and to fulfill the dreams, the longings, the _hopes_ Ihave centered round you, there is nothing whatever for you to do butto begin to fight your battles. " Iris was silent. She had very earnest eyes, something like hermother's in expression. They were fixed now on Mrs. Delaney's face. "I will not explain exactly what I mean, " said the mother, giving thelittle hand a loving squeeze, "only to assure you, Iris, that, as thetrial comes, strength will be given to you to meet it. Pleaseunderstand, 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 willremember that you will not think things half as hard, and you will bebrave and strong, and, like the rainbow, you will cheer people even inthe darkest hours. But, Iris, I want you to promise me one thing--Iwant you, my little girl, to be a mother to the others. " "A mother to the others?" said Iris, half aloud. She paused and didnot speak at all for a moment, her imagination was very busy. Shethought of all the creatures to whom she was already a mother, notonly her own dear pets--the mice in their cages, the silk-worms, thethree dogs, the stray cat, the pet Persian cat, the green frogs, thepoor innocents, as the children called worms--but in addition tothese, all creatures that suffered in the animal kingdom, all flowersthat were about to fade, all sad things that seemed to need care andcomfort. But up to the present she had never thought of the otherchildren except as her equals. Apollo was only a year younger thanherself, and in some ways braver and stouter and more fearless; andOrion and Diana were something like their names--very bright and evenfierce at times. She, after all, was the gentlest of the party, andshe was very young--not more than ten years of age. How could shepossibly 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 isthe first thing of all. I will promise, cost what it may. " "Yes, " she said; then softly, "I will, mother; I will be a mother tothe others. " "Kiss me, Iris. " The little girl threw her arms round her mother's neck; their lips metin a long embrace. "Darling, you understand? I am satisfied with your promise, and I amtired. " "Must I go away, mother? May not I stay very quietly with you? Can younot 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 mecomfortable. Yes; I am very tired. " "One moment first, mummy--you have not told me yet when you are goingon the journey. " "The day is not quite fixed, Iris, although it is--yes, it is nearlyso. " "And you have not said _where_ you are going, mother. I should like totell 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. Thesummons 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 herhusband, only just a brief moment to look, with startled eyes, at thewonderful face of the angel who had come to fetch her, and then with asmile of bliss to let him clasp her in his arms and feel his strongwings round her, and then she was away, beyond the lovely house andthe beautiful garden, and the children sleeping quietly in their beds, and the husband who was slumbering by her side--beyond the tall treesand 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. Theyall cried, and everyone thought it dreadfully sad, except Iris, whoknew better. It was Fortune who brought in the news to thechildren--they had just gone into the day-nursery at the time. Fortune was a stern woman, somewhat over fifty years of age. She wasAmerican by birth, and had lived with Mrs. Delaney since Iris wasborn. Mrs. Delaney was also American, which may have accounted forsome 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 herbitter grief, she sank down on the nearest chair, and allowed them allto crowd round her, and cried bitterly, and took little Orion in herarms and kissed him and petted him, and begged of each child toforgive her for ever having been cross or disagreeable, and promised, as well and as heartily as she could, never to transgress again inthat manner as long as she lived. While the others were sobbing and crying round Fortune, Iris stoodsilent. "Where is father?" she said at last, in a very quiet but determinedvoice. 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 isfather? I should like to go to him. " "He is locked up in his study, darling, and could not possibly see younor anyone else. He is quite stunned, master is, and no wonder. Youcannot go to him at present, Miss Iris. " Iris did not say another word, but she looked more grave and morethoughtful than ever. After a long pause she sat down in her ownlittle chair near the open window. It was a very lovely day, just asbeautiful as the one which had preceded it. As the child sat by thewindow, and the soft, sweet breeze fanned her pale cheeks, anindescribable longing came over her. No one was particularly noticingher. She crept softly out of the room, ran down some passages, and atlast found herself once more mounting the turret stairs to the tower. A moment later she had entered the octagon room where she and hermother had talked together on the previous day. The windows were wideopen, the pretty room looked just as usual, but mother's sofa wasvacant. Iris went straight over to one of the open windows, kneltdown, and put her little elbows on the ledge. "Yes, mother, " she said, speaking aloud and looking full up at thebright blue sky, "I promise you. I promised you yesterday, but I makea fresh, very, _very_ solemn promise to-day. Yes, I will be a motherto 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 bebeautiful, to be a little messenger of the gods, as you sometimes saidI might be, and to be like the rainbow, full of hope. And I will tryto help Apollo to be the most beautiful and the bravest boy in theworld; and, mother, I will do my best to help Diana to be strong andbright and full of courage; and I will do what I can for Orion--hemust be grand like a giant, so that he may live up to the wonderfulname 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. Iwill 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, forwhile you were here you had so much pain and so much illness. I won'tfret, mother; no, I won't fret--I promise to be a mother to theothers, and there won't be any time to fret. " No tears came to Iris' bright eyes, but her little thin face grewpaler and paler. Presently she left the window and went slowlydownstairs again. Fortune had now left the other children to themselves. They werescattered about the bright day nursery, looking miserable, though theycould 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 bigblack eyes like his father's. He was standing now with his Noah's arkin 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 laboratoryand try to make a thermometer?" "Well, at least, " said Diana, speaking with a sort of jerk, and hersmall face turning crimson, "whatever happens, the animals must befed. " "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'tthink 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 thearbor, and, if you like, I will tell you stories. " "What sort of stories?" asked Diana, in quite a cheerful voice. Shetrotted up to her sister, and gave her her hand as she spoke. She alsowas a finely made child, not unlike her name. "I 'gree with Orion, " she said. "I'm quite certain sure that mother iscoming back 'fore long. Fortune did talk nonsense. She said, Iris--doyou 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 theroom and took mother in his arms and flew up to the sky with her. Youdon't believe that; do you, Iris?" "Yes, I do, Diana, " answered Iris. "But I will tell you more about itin the arbor. Come, Apollo; mother would not like us to stay in thehouse just because she has gone away to the angels. Mother never wasthe 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 nightnursery to fetch their hats. They then ran downstairs without anyonespecially noticing them, passed through the great entrance hall, andout on to the wide gravel sweep, which led by a side walk into thelovely garden. Iris held Diana by one hand and Orion by the other, and Apollo ran onin front. "Now, then, " said Iris, when they had reached the garden, "we mustbegin by feeding all the pets. " "There _are_ an awful lot of them, " said Diana, in quite a cheerfulvoice; "and don't you remember, Iris, the poor innocent was not buriedyesterday?" Iris could not help giving a little shiver. "No more it was, " she said, in a low tone. "It must have quite aprivate 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 putthe poor innocent inside, and then take your spade and dig a hole inthe cemetery. We can't have a public funeral. I--I don't feel up toit, " 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 truethere'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 littlechair which mother had seen father make, and round which the beautifulflowers 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 herbig black eyes, which had been full of the deepest gloom, brightened. A butterfly passed the entrance to the summer-house, and Diana flewafter it, chasing it with a loud shout and a gay, hearty fit oflaughter. Apollo came back with the stray cat, whose name was "Trust, " in hisarms. "She looks miserable, poor thing, " he said. "I don't believe she hashad 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 tobrighten up. "Let us go regularly to work, all of us. Apollo, will youtake the birds? You may as well clean out their cages--they are sureto want it. I will collect flies for the green frogs, and Orion, youmay pick mulberry leaves for the silk-worms. " For the next hour the children were busily employed. No one missedthem in the house. The house was full of shade, but the garden, although mother had left it forever, was quite bright; the sun shoneas brilliantly as it did every other day; a great many fresh flowershad come out; there was a very sweet smell from the opening roses, andin especial the Scotch roses, white and red, made a waft of deliciousperfume 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 ushave a fruit lunch--I think mother would like us to have a fruit lunchjust for to-day. Please, Apollo, go into the other garden and picksome of the ripest strawberries. There were a great many ripeyesterday, and there are sure to be more to-day. Bring a big leaffull, and we can eat them in the summer-house. " Apollo ran off at once. He brought back a good large leaf ofstrawberries, and Iris divided them into four portions. Diana andOrion, seated on their little chairs, ate theirs with much gusto, andjust as happily as if mother had not gone away; but as to Iris, notwithstanding her brave words and her determination not to think ofherself, the strawberries tasted like wood in her mouth. There wasalso a great lump in her throat, and a feeling of depression wasmaking itself felt more and more, moment by moment. Apollo sat down beside his sister, and glanced from time to time intoher face. "I cannot think why I don't _really_ care for the strawberriesto-day, " he said suddenly. "I--" His lips trembled. "Iris, " he said, gazing harder than ever at his sister, "you have got such a queer lookon your face. "Don't notice it, please, Apollo, " answered Iris. "I wish you would cry, " said the boy. "When Fortune came in and toldus the--the dreadful news, we all cried and we kissed her, and shecried and she said she was sorry she had ever been unkind to us; but Iremember, Iris, you did not shed one tear, and you--you always seemedto 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 hertones, "You know, I can't be sorry about mother herself. I can only beglad 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--notreally. She is only away up above the stars and the blue sky, and shewill never have any more suffering, and she will always be as happy ashappy can be, and sometime or other, Apollo, I think she will be ableto come back; and, if she can, I am sure she will. Yes, I am quitesure she will. " "If she comes back we shall see her, " said Apollo; "but she can't comeback, Iris. Dead people can't come back. " "Oh, please, don't call her that, " said Iris, with a note of greatpain in her voice. "But Fortune says that mother is dead, just like anybody else, and ina few days she will be put into the ground. Oh, Iris! I am frightenedwhen I think of it. Mother was so lovely, and to think of theirputting her into the ground in a box just like--like we put the poorinnocent and the other creatures, and if that is the case she cannever come back--never, never, never!" The little boy buried his black head of curling hair on his sister'sknee, and gave vent to a great burst of tears. "But it is not true, Apollo, " said Iris. "I mean in one way it is nottrue--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 thatlooked at us out of her beautiful eyes; she is not dead, she has onlygone away, and she wants us all to be good, so that we may join hersome day. She called me after the rainbow, and after the messenger ofthe gods; and you, Apollo, after the bravest and the most beautifulboy that was supposed ever to live; and Diana, too, was called after agreat Greek goddess; and Orion after the most lovely star in all theworld. 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 understandthings the way you can, Iris, and I have an awful ache in my throat. Iam hungry, and yet I am not hungry. I love strawberries as a rule, butI hate them to-day. If only father would come and talk to us it wouldnot be quite so bad; but Fortune said we were not to go to him, thathe was shut up in his study, and that he was very unhappy. She saidthat he felt it all dreadfully about mother. " "Iris, " said Diana's voice at that moment, "we are not surely to haveany 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 dazedmanner. "Yes; do be quick and say. Miss Stevenson is coming down the gardenpath. I do think that on the very day when mother has gone away itwould 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? Weought to have a whole holiday to-day, ought we not? Just as if it wasa birthday, you know. " "I think so too, " said Orion, with a shout. "I don't think we need bebothered with old Stevie to-day. " He raised his voice, and ran to meether. "You are not to give us any lessons to-day, Stevie, " he said. "Itis a holiday, a great, _big_ holiday--it is a sort of birthday. Wewere all eating strawberries, for Iris said we were not to go back tothe house. " "Oh, my poor, dear, little boy!" said Miss Stevenson. She was akind-hearted, although old-fashioned, governess. She bent down now andkissed Orion, and tried to take one of his very dirty little hands inhers. "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 feelmiserable; I have got a pain in my throat, and I cannot eat mystrawberries; but Iris says we ought not fret, for mother is muchbetter off. " "Then, if mother is much better off, we ought to have a holiday, sameas if it was a birthday; ought we not, Miss Stevenson?" said Diana, puckering up her face and looking, with her keen black eyes, full ather governess. "You poor little innocents, what is to become of you all?" said MissStevenson. She entered the summer-house as she spoke, sank down on the nearestchair, and burst into tears. The four children surrounded her. Theynone of them felt inclined to cry at that moment. Orion, after staringat 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 ratherstupid?" "You poor innocents!" said Miss Stevenson. "Please don't call us that, " said Diana; "that is our name for theworms. Worms can't see, you know, and they are not to blame for beingonly worms, and sometimes they get trodden on; and Iris thought wemight call them innocents, and we have always done so since she gaveus 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 thatmother 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'ssettled, isn't it?" "Oh, my dear little child! I was not thinking of your lessons. It isyour terrible--your terrible loss that fills my mind; that and yourwant of understanding. Iris, you are ten years old; I am surprised atyou. " Iris stood, looking very grave and silent, a step or two away. "Please, Miss Stevenson, " she said, after a long pause, "don't try tounderstand us, for I am afraid it would be of no use. Mother talked tome yesterday, and I know quite what to do. Mother asked me to be amother to the others, so I have no time to cry, nor to think of myselfat all. If you will give us a holiday to-day, will you please go awayand let us stay together, for I think I can manage the others if I amall alone with them?" Miss Stevenson rose hastily. "I thought you would all have been overwhelmed, " she said. "I thoughtif ever children loved their mother you four did. Oh! how stunned Ifeel! Yes, I will certainly go--I don't profess to understand any ofyou. " CHAPTER III. THE ARRIVAL OF THE AUNT. About a week after the events related in the last chapter, on acertain lovely day in June, a hired fly might have been seen ascendingthe steep avenue to Delaney Manor. The fly had only one occupant--around, roly-poly sort of little woman. She was dressed in deepmourning, and the windows of the fly being wide open, she constantlypoked her head out, now to the right and now to the left, to lookanxiously 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 agood deal of color in her cheeks. She was stoutly built, but theexpression on her countenance was undoubtedly cheerful. Nothingsignified gloom about her except her heavy mourning. Her eyes, although shrewd and full of common sense, were also kindly; her lipswere very firm; there was a matter-of-fact expression about her wholeappearance. "Now, why does David waste all those acres of splendid land?" shemuttered 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 anagricultural country, and yet, when produce is so precious, what do Isee but a lawn here and another lawn there, and not even cows feedingon them. Oh, yes! of course there is the park! The park is rightenough, and no one wants to interfere with that. But why should allthe land in that direction, and in that direction, and in thatdirection"--here she put out her head again and looked franticallyabout her--"why should all that land be devoted to mere ornament? Itseems nothing more nor less than a tempting of Providence. " Here shesuddenly raised her voice. "Driver, " she said, "have the goodness topoke up your horse, and to go a little faster. I happen to be in ahurry. " "'Orse won't do it, ma'am, " was the response. "Steep 'ill this. Can'tgo no faster. " The little lady gave an indignant snort, and retired once more intothe depths of the gloomy fly. Presently a bend in the avenue broughtthe old manor house into view. Once more she thrust out her head andexamined it critically. "There it stands, " she said to herself. "I was very happy at the Manoras a girl. I wonder if the old garden still exists. Twenty to one ithas been done away with; there's no saying. Evangeline had suchdreadfully queer ideas. Yes, there stands the house, and I do hopesome remnants of the garden are in existence; but the thing above allothers to consider now is, what kind these children are. Poor David, he was quite mad about Evangeline--not that I ever pretended tounderstand her. She was an American, and I hate the Americans; yes, Icordially hate them. Poor David, however, was devoted--oh, it wasmelancholy, melancholy! I suppose it was on account of Evangeline thatall this splendid land has been allowed to lie fallow--not even cows, not even a stray sheep to eat all that magnificent grass. Wherever Iturn I see flower-beds--flower-beds sloping away to east and west, asfar almost as the eye can travel. And so there are four children. Ihave no doubt they are as queer, and old-fashioned, and untrained aspossible. It would be like their mother to bring them up in that sortof style. Well, at least I am not the one to shirk my duty, and Icertainly see it now staring me in the face. I am the wife of ahard-working vicar; I work hard myself, and I have five children of myown; but never mind, I am prepared to do my best for those poordeserted orphans. Ah, and here we are at last! That is a comfort. " The rickety old fly drew up with a jerk opposite the big frontentrance, and Mrs. Dolman got out. She was short in stature, but herbusiness-like manner and attitude were unmistakable. As soon as evershe 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 stationhere? Why, it is only five miles. " "It is nearly seven, ma'am, and all uphill. I really cannot do it fora 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 andstared at Mrs. Dolman. "Take my portmanteau in immediately, if you please, " she said, "andpray tell me if your master is at home. " "Yes, madam, " was the grave reply. "But Mr. Delaney is not seeingcompany at present. " "He will see me, " said Mrs. Dolman. "Have the goodness to tell himthat his sister has arrived, and please also see that my luggage istaken to my room--and oh, I say, wait one moment. What is the farefrom Beaminster to Delaney Manor?" The grave-looking footman and the somewhat surly driver of the cabexchanged a quick glance. Immediately afterwards the footman namedeight 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 didyou say Mr. Delaney was?" "In his private study. " "I know that room well. See that my luggage is taken to a bedroom, andpay the driver. " Mrs. Dolman entered the old house briskly. It felt quiet, remarkablyquiet, seeing that there was a large staff of servants and fourvigorous, healthy children to occupy it. "Poor little orphans, I suppose they are dreadfully overcome, " thoughtthe good lady to herself. "Well, I am glad I have appeared on thescene. Poor David is just the sort of man who would forget everybodyelse when he is in a state of grief. Of course I know he waspassionately attached to Evangeline, and she certainly was a charming, although _quite_ incapable, creature. I suppose she was what would betermed 'a man's woman. ' Now, I have never any patience with them, andwhen I think of those acres of land and--but, dear me! sometimes amatter-of-fact, plain body like myself is useful in an emergency. Theemergency has arrived with a vengeance, and I am determined to takethe fortress by storm. " The little lady trotted down one or two passages, then turned abruptlyto 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 toher in the deep embrasure of a mullioned window. His hands wereclasped behind his back; he was looking fixedly out. The window waswide open. "There, David, there! I knew you would take it hard; but have thegoodness to turn round and speak to me, " said Mrs. Dolman. When he heard these unexpected words, the master of Delaney Manorturned with a visible start. "My dear Jane, what have you come for?" he exclaimed. He advanced tomeet his sister, dismay evident on every line of his face. "I knew you would not welcome me, David. Oh, no prevarications! if youplease. It is awful to think how many lies people tell in the cause ofpoliteness. When I undertook this wearisome journey from the north ofEngland, 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 haveunburdened your heart to me, you will feel your sorrow less. " "I would rather not touch on that subject, " said Mr. Delaney. Heoffered his sister a chair very quietly, and took another himself. Father, as Iris used to say, was not the least like mother. Motherhad the gentlest, the sweetest, the most angelic face in the world;she never spoke loudly, and she seldom laughed; her voice was low andnever was heard to rise to an angry tone. Her smile was like thesweetest sunshine, and wherever she appeared she brought an atmosphereof peace with her. But father, on the other hand, although anexcellent and loving parent, was, when in good spirits, given tohearty laughter--given to loud, eager words, to strong exercise, bothphysical and mental. He was, as a rule, a very active man, seldomstaying still in one place, but bustling here, there, and everywhere. He was fond of his children, and petted them a good deal; but the onewhom he really worshiped was his gentle and loving wife. She led him, although he did not know it, by silken cords. She always knew exactlyhow to manage him, how to bring out his fine points. She never rubbedhim the wrong way. He had a temper, and he knew it; but in his wife'spresence it had never been exasperated. His sister, however, managedto 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 beobliged to you for taking all this trouble. Now that you have come, you are welcome; but I must ask you to understand immediately that Iwill not have the subject of my"--he hesitated, and his under lipshook for a moment--"the subject of my trouble alluded to. And I willalso 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--notagreeable to me. " "Precisely, David. I did not write, for the simple reason that Ithought it likely you would have asked me not to come; and as it wasnecessary for me to appear on the scene, I determined, on thisoccasion, to take, as you express it, Delaney Manor by storm. " "Very well, Jane; as you have done it you have done it, and there isno 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 yourdress?" he asked. "I cannot change my dress, for I have only brought one. I will go tomy 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 theopportunity. It will be necessary for me to return home the day afterto-morrow. " An expression of relief swept over Mr. Delaney's countenance. "I shall, therefore, " continued Mrs. Dolman, taking no notice of thislook, which she plainly saw, "have but little time at my disposal, andthere is a great deal to be done. But before I proceed to anythingelse, may I ask you a question? How could you allow all that splendidland 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 thinkit is a positive tempting of Providence to allow so much land to liefallow. Why, you might grow potatoes or barley or oats, and makepounds and pounds a year. I know of old what the land round DelaneyManor can produce. " "As the land happens to belong to me, perhaps I may be allowed toarrange 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 thatcleft in his chin, what else can be expected? There is no usebothering him on that point at present, and, as he won't allow me totalk of poor Evangeline, --who had, poor soul, as many faults as I eversaw packed into a human being, --there is nothing whatever for me to dobut 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 longjourney, as perhaps you do _not_ remember, David; so I will seek myroom after first having informed you what the object of my visit is. " "I should be interested to know that, Jane, " he answered, in asomewhat 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 firsttime a really soft and affectionate look came into her face. "I hopeto goodness, David, that the garden is not altered. " "It is much the same as always, Jane. The children occupy it a gooddeal. " "I am coming to the subject of the children. Of course, now thatthings 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 patentfact? I have no wish to hurt your feelings, but I really must speakout plain common sense. I always was noted for my common sense, was Inot? I don't believe, in the length and breadth of England, you willfind better behaved children than my five. I have brought them up on aplan of my own, and now that I come here at great trouble, and I mayalso add expense, to try and help you in your--oh, of course, I mustnot say it--to try and help you when you want help, you fight shy ofmy slightest word. Well, the fact is this: I want you to take myadvice, and to shut up Delaney Manor, or, better still, to let it wellfor the next two or three years, and go abroad yourself, letting mehave 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. Imust take the children back with me the day after to-morrow. Now Iwill go to my bedroom, as I am dead tired. Perhaps you will ring thebell 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. Hegave certain directions, and Mrs. Dolman left the room. The moment he found himself alone, the father of the children sankdown on the nearest chair, put his hands on the table, pressed hisface 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 frameshook. After a moment's pause he took up a photograph which stoodnear, and looked earnestly at the beautiful pictured face. The eyes, so full of truth and tenderness, seemed to answer him back. He startedabruptly 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 insome matters as weak as a reed, great, blustering fellow though Iappear. And now that Jane has come--she always did bully me--now thatshe 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 managethis great house, nor the children, without you. The children are notlike others; they will not stand the treatment which ordinary childrenreceive. 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 attimes, at times making use of a strong exclamation. The butler knocked at the door. "Dinner will be served in half anhour, sir, " he said. "Am I to lay for two?" "Yes, Johnson. Mrs. Dolman, my sister, has arrived, and will dine withme. Have places laid for two. " The man withdrew, and Mr. Delaney, stepping out through the openwindow, looked across the lawns which his sister had so stronglydisapproved of. "Jane was always the one to poke her finger into every pie, " he saidhalf aloud. "Certainly this place is distasteful to me now, and thereis--upon my word, there is something in her suggestion. But to deliverover those four children to her, and to take them away from thegarden, and the house, and the memory of their mother--oh! it cannotbe thought of for a moment; and yet, to shift the responsibility whilemy heart is so sore would be an untold relief. " A little voice in the distance was heard shouting eagerly, and a smallchild, very dirty about the hands and face, came trotting up to Mr. Delaney. It was Diana. She was sobbing as well as shouting, and washolding something tenderly wrapped up in her pocket handkerchief. "What is the matter with you, Di?" said her father. He lifted her intohis arms. "Why, little woman, what can be the matter? and what haveyou got in your handkerchief?" "It's Rub-a-Dub, and he is deaded, " answered Diana. She unfolded thehandkerchief carefully and slowly, and showed her father a smallpiebald mouse, quite dead, and with a shriveled appearance. "He is asdead as he can be, " repeated Diana. "Look at him. His little claws areblue, 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, " hesaid. "What can't be cured must be endured, you know. Now, take myhand and I'll race you into the house. " The child gave a wan little smile; but the thought of the mouse layheavy against her heart. "May I go back to the garden first?" she said. "I want to putRub-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 othercreatures what get deaded, " said Diana. "We keep them there until Irishas 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 thismorning. I don't know what he could have died of. Perhaps, father, ifyou look at him you will be able to tell me. " "Well, let me have a peep, " said the man, his mustache twitching as hespoke. Diana once again unfolded her small handkerchief, in the center ofwhich lay the much shriveled-up mouse. "The _darling_!" said the little girl tenderly. "I loved Rub-a-Dub somuch; I love him still. I do hope Iris will think him 'portant enoughfor a public funeral. " "Look here, " said Mr. Delaney, interested in spite of himself, andforgetting 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 finddead things. We keep all the dead 'uns we find there. There aren't asmany as usual to-day--only a couple of butterflies and two or threebeetles, and a poor crushed spider. And oh! I forgot the toad that wefound this morning. It was awful hurt and Apollo had to kill it; hehad to stamp on it and kill it; and he did not like it a bit. Iriscan't kill things, nor can I, nor can Orion, so we always get Apolloto kill the things that are half dead--to put them out of theirmisery, you know, father. " "You seem to be a very wise little girl; but I am sure this cannot beat all wholesome work, " said the father, looking more bewildered andpuzzled than ever. Diana gazed gravely up at him. She did not know anything about thework being wholesome or the reverse. The dead creatures had to beproperly treated, and had to be buried either privately orpublicly--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 Irisdid 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 'unis 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 thegarden?" "Indeed we does, father. We have a very large one now, and heaps andheaps of gravestones. Apollo writes the insipcron. He is quitebothered sometimes. He says the horrid work is give to him, --carvingthe names on the stones and killing the half-dead 'uns, --but course hehas to do it 'cos Iris says so. Course we all obey Iris. When it is apwivate 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 isforgot. 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 boldlyforward 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 cottonwool--we steal the cotton wool most times. We know where Fortune hasgot 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 playsthe Jew's harp, and I beat the drum, and Iris sings, and Apollo digsthe grave, and the dead 'un is put into the ground, and we all cry, orpretend to cry. Sometimes I do squeeze out a tiny tear, but I'm soincited I can't always manage it, although I'm sure I'll cry whenRub-a-Dub is put into the ground. Then afterwards there is atombstone, and Iris thinks of the insipcron. I spects we'll have abeautiful insipcron for poor Rub-a-Dub, 'cos we all loved him somuch. " "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 youlike, 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 aninsipcron, and all the rest. " Mr. Delaney followed Diana into the small shed which the childrencalled the dead-house. He gazed solemnly at the shelf which sheindicated, and on which lay the several dead 'uns. "Put your mouse down now, " he said, "and come along back with me tothe house at once. You ought to have been in bed long ago. " Diana laid the mouse sorrowfully down in the midst of its deadbrethren, shut the door of the dead-house, and followed her father upthe garden path. "It's a most beautiful night, " she said, after a pause. "It's going tobe 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 heis 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'llshow 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 getready 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'sface, kissed him solemnly, and trotted away into the house. When shegot close to it, a great sob came up from her little chest. Shethought again of the dead Rub-a-Dub, but then the chance of his havinga public funeral consoled her. She longed to find Iris. Full of this thought, her little heart beating more quickly thanusual, she rushed up the front stairs, and was turning down thepassage 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, cheeryvoice. "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 beinterrupted now; she wanted to find Iris to tell her of the sad fateof Rub-a-Dub. "Highty-tighty!" exclaimed the little lady, "that is no way to speakto 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 isyour name?" "Diana. Please, aunt, don't clutch hold of my hand; I want to findIris. " "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 totalk to you. Do you know, you rude little girl, that I have come along way to see you. Of course, my little girl, I know you are sad atpresent; but you must try to get over your great sorrow. " "Do you know, then, about Rub-a-Dub?" said Diana, her whole facechanging, and a look of keen interest coming into it. If Aunt--whatever her other name was--should turn out to be interestedin Rub-a-Dub, and sorry for his untimely end, why, then, Diana feltthere was a possibility of her squeezing a little corner for her inher hearts of hearts. But Mrs. Dolman's next words disturbed thepleasant illusion. "You are a poor little orphan, my child, " she said. "Your poor, dearmother's death must be a terrible sorrow to you; but, believe me, youwill get over it after a time. " "I has quite got over it awready, " answered Diana, in a cheerfulvoice. "It would be awfu' selfish to be sorry 'bout mother, 'cosmother 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 handlike that. Good-by, aunt; I weally can't stay another moment. " She trotted off, and Mrs. Dolman gazed after her with a petrifiedexpression of horror on her round face. "Well, " she said to herself, "if ever! And the poor mother was devotedto them all, and she is scarcely a week in her grave, and yet thatmite dares to say she has got over it. What nonsense she talked, andwhat a queer name she has. Now, our family names are sensible andsuited for the rising generation. We have had our Elizabeths and ourAnns, and our Lucys and our Marys, and, of course, there is Jane, myname. 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. Whata rude, dirty little child! I did not like her manners at all, and howneglected she looked. I shall follow her; it is my manifest duty tosee to these children at once. Oh! I shall have difficulty in breakingthem in, but broken in they must be!" Accordingly Mrs. Dolman turned down the passage where Diana's fat legsdisappeared. 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. Itwas a beautiful room, facing due west; the last rays of the eveningsun were shining in at the open windows; some children were collectedin a corner of the room. Diana had gone on her knees beside a girl alittle older and slighter than herself. Her plump elbows were restingon the girl's knee, her round hands were pressed to her roundercheeks, 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 Dianain appearance, while an older boy sat on a hassock at her feet. "I will listen to you presently, Diana, " said Iris. "Now, I mustfinish 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 tomarry 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 thresholdof the room. "He let you fall very sound asleep, having given you somestrong wine. " "What next?" thought Mrs. Dolman. "And when you were very sound asleep indeed, he put out both youreyes. When you awoke you found yourself quite blind, and did not knowwhat to do or where to go. Suddenly, in the midst of your misery, youheard the sound of a blacksmith's forge. Guided by the noise, youreached the place and begged the blacksmith to climb on yourshoulders, and so lend you his eyes to guide you. The blacksmith waswilling 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 inthe east over the sea, ' and--" "Yes, " said Orion, whose breath was coming quickly, "yes; and whathappened to me then?" "Nonsense, little boy! Don't you listen to another word of thatfolly, " 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 intoIris' 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 seeyour father and mother for several years; but now that God has seenfit to give you this terrible affliction, and has taken your dearmother to Himself, I have arrived, determined to act a mother's partto you. I do not take the least notice of what that rude little girlsays. When I have had her for a short time under my own control, shewill know better. Now, one of you children, please have the politenessto 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 Orioncame close together, and Diana flung her stout little arm roundOrion's fat neck. Apollo, however, sprang forward and placed a chairfor 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 verystiff way of speaking. Say Aunt Jane. You can kiss me, little boy. " Apollo raised his lips and bestowed a very chaste salute upon AuntJane's fat cheek. "What is your name?" said Aunt Jane, taking one of his small, hardhands in hers. "Apollo, " he replied, flinging his head back. "Apollo! Heaven preserve us! Why, that is the name of one of theheathen deities--positively impious. What could my poor sister-in-lawand your father have been thinking of? At one time I considered yourfather a man of sense. " Apollo flushed a beautiful rosy red. "Please, Aunt Jane, " he said, "I like my name very much indeed, and Iwould rather you did not say a word against it, because mother gave itto me. " "It is a name with a beautiful meaning, " said Iris, coming forward atlast. "How are you Aunt Jane? My name is Iris, and this is Diana, andthis is Orion--both Diana and Orion are very good children indeed, and"--here her lips quivered, her earnest, brown eyes were fixed withgreat solicitude on her aunt's face--"I ought to know, " she said, "forI am a mother to the others, and, I think, please, Aunt Jane, Orionand Diana should be going to bed now. " "I have not the slightest objection, my dear. I simply wished to seeyou children. I will say good-night now; we can have a further talkto-morrow. But first, before I go, let me repeat over your names, orrather you--Apollo, I think you call yourself--had better say them forme. " "That is Iris, " said Apollo, pointing to his elder sister, "and I amApollo, 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--itmay frighten the parishioners. I must think it well over. I have, ofcourse, heard before of girls being called Diana, and also of girlsbeing called Iris--but Apollo and Orion! My poor children, I am sorryfor you; you are burdened for life. Good-night, good-night! You willsee me again to-morrow. " The great dinner-gong sounded through the house, and Aunt Jane sailedaway from the day-nursery. "Fortune, who is she?" asked Iris, raising a pair of almost frightenedeyes to the old nurse's face. "She is your father's sister, my darling, " said Fortune. "She has comeon a visit, and uninvited, Peter tells me. I doubt if my master ispleased to see her. She will most likely go away in a day or two, sodon't you fret, Miss Iris, love. Now, come along, Master Orion, andlet me undress you. It is very late, and you ought to be in yourlittle bed. " "I'm Orion, " said the little boy, "and I'm stone blind. " He began tostrut up and down the nursery with his eyes tightly shut. "Apollo, please, may I get on your shoulder for a bit, and will youlead me to that place where the first sunbeam rises in the east overthe sea?" "Come, " said Fortune, in what Diana would call a "temperish" tone, "wecan 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 lowwhisper. "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 puthim in the dead-house. " Iris said nothing. "And he is to have a public funeral, isn't he?" said Diana, "and abeautiful insipcron. Do say he is, and let us have the funeralto-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 andsettle what to do. " "There are to be a lot of funerals to-morrow--I'm so glad, " saidDiana, with a chuckle. She followed Orion into the night-nursery. He was still walking withhis eyes tightly shut and went bang up against his bath, a goodportion of which he spilt on the floor. This put both Fortune and theunder-nurse, Susan, into a temper, and they shook him and made himcry, whereupon Diana cried in concert, and poor Iris felt a greatweight 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 isthe matter? What are you thinking of?" "I'm only wishing that I might be the real Apollo, " said the boy, "andthat I might get quite far away from here. Things are different herenow 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 meansto 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 hereally sees us. I think, perhaps, we ought to get dressed and be readyto 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 bitwhat mother wants us to be; and now that Aunt Jane has come, poorfather may want us worse than ever. " "I never thought of that, " replied Iris. "I'll run and get dressed atonce, Apollo. " She flew away into a tiny little room of her own, which opened intothe night-nursery. "Susan, " she called out, "will you please help me to put on myafter-dinner frock?" "You have only a white dress to wear this evening, miss; your newblack 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 goneup the golden stairs, and she is quite well and ever so happy, and shewon't mind my wearing a white dress, more particular if I want tocomfort 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 curledand curled, and waved and waved in rich profusion down her back. WhenSusan had brushed it, and taken the tangles out, it shone likeburnished gold. Her pretty white frock was speedily put on, and sheran out of her little room to join Apollo, who, in his black velvetsuit, looked very picturesque and handsome. Not long afterwards the little pair, taking each other's hands, randown the broad, white marble stairs and entered the big dining room. They looked almost lost in the distance when they first appeared, forthe table at which Mr. Delaney and Mrs. Dolman sat was far away in abay window at the other end of the stately apartment. "Hullo, children! so there you are!" called their father's voice tothem. 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 oneach 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, " saidMrs. Dolman. "Children, I must frankly say that I am _not_ pleased tosee you. What are you doing up at this hour?" "We have come to keep father company, " said Apollo, fixing hisflashing black eyes, with a distinctly adverse expression in them, onhis aunt's face. "In my day, " continued Aunt Jane complacently, helping herself tostrawberries, "the motto was: 'Little boys should be seen and notheard. ' To-night, of course, I make allowances; but things will bedifferent presently. David, you surely are not giving those childrenwine?" "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, thosechildren may grow up drunkards. Early impressions! Well, all I can sayis this--when they come to live at the Rectory they will have to beteetotalers. In my house we are all teetotalers. My husband and I boththink that we cannot have proper influence on the parishioners unlesswe do ourselves what we urge them to do. " Iris and Apollo both listened to these strange words with fast-beatinghearts. What did they mean? Mrs. Dolman spoke of when they were tolive at the Rectory. What rectory? She spoke of a time when they wereto live with her. Oh, no; she must be mistaken. Nothing so perfectlyawful could be going to happen. Nevertheless, Iris could scarcely touch her wine, and she pushed asidethe 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 swallowedhis biscuit manfully; but even he had not his usual appetite. After a short pause, Iris gave a gentle sigh and put both her armsround 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 thechildren, " said Mrs. Dolman. "I should think they are dead tired forwant of sleep, poor little mites. Good-night, both of you. When youcome to live with me--ah! I see you are astonished; but we will talkof 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 theforehead--a moment later the little pair left the room. As soon asever they had done so, Mrs. Dolman turned to her brother. "Now then, David, " she said, "you have got to listen to me; we mayjust as well settle this matter out of hand. I must return home onThursday--and this is Tuesday evening. It will be impossible for youto stay on here with those four children and no one responsible tolook after them. You appear half dead with grief and depression, andyou want a thorough change. The place is going to rack and ruin. Yourrent-roll, how much is it?" "About fifteen thousand pounds a year--quite enough to keep me out ofanxiety, " said Mr. Delaney, with a grim smile. "It ought to be twenty thousand a year--in our father's time it wasquite that. No doubt you let your farms too cheap; and so much grassround the house is disgraceful. Now, if I had the management--" "But you see you have not, Jane, " said Mr. Delaney. "The propertyhappens to belong to me. " "That is true, and I have a great deal too much on my mind to worrymyself about Delaney Manor; but, of course, it is the old place, andyou are my only brother, and I am anxious to help you in your greataffliction. When you married you broke off almost all connection withme, but now--now I am willing to overlook the past. Do you, or do younot, intend those children to run wild any longer? Even though theyare called after heathen idols they are flesh and blood, and it is tobe 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 broughtthem up as no one else could. In my opinion, they are nearly perfect. " "You talk nonsense of that kind because you are blinded by yourfatherly affection. Now, let me assure you, in full confidence, that Inever came across more neglected and more utterly absurd littlecreatures. 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 uttergibberish; and as to that eldest little girl, if she is not givensomething 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 havefive children of my own, and I think, if you were to see them, youwould be well assured that Iris and Diana, Apollo and Orion would dowell to take example by them. We might change the names of the boysand 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 willhave a terrible time at school. However, they are too young foranything of that kind at present. Give me the children, David, and Iwill act as a mother to them; then pack up your belongings, put yourestate 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 theevening post on a salver. Mr. Delaney laid the letters languidly byhis 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 sawthe handwriting on one of the envelopes. He opened the letter inquestion, which immediately interested him vastly. It happened to befrom an old friend, and certainly seemed to come at an opportunemoment. This friend was about to start on an expedition to theHimalayas, and he begged his old fellow-traveler to go with him. Hislong letter, the enthusiastic way he wrote, the suggestions he threwout of possible and exciting adventures came just at the nick of timeto 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 ofthe letter aloud. "If I might venture to trust my darlings to you, " hesaid, "there is nothing in all the world I should like better than toaccompany 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 valuableopportunity to slip--you will trust your children to me. I assure youI will do my duty by them. " She spoke with real sincerity, and tearsabsolutely dimmed her bright eyes. "David, " she continued, "thatletter seems a Providence; you will act upon it. " "It certainly does, " said the man; "but, Jane, you will be good to thechildren--tender, I mean. Their mother has always been very gentle tothem. " "You need not question me as to how I will treat them. I will bringthem up as I would my own. I will do my utmost to rear them in thefear of God. David, this clinches the matter. Write to Mr. Seymour bythis 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, ina 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 veryearly hour, he began to have most unpleasant dreams. He thought ahobgoblin was seated on his chest, and several brownies were pullinghim where he did not wish to go, and finally that a gnome of enormousdimensions was dragging him into a dark cavern, where he could neveragain behold the daylight. At last, in great perturbation, he openedhis dazed eyes. The sight he saw seemed at first to be a continuationof his dream, but after a moment or two he discovered that the personwho had become possessed of his chest was a small boy of the name ofOrion, that a little black-eyed girl called Diana had comfortablyensconced herself on his knees, and that Iris and Apollo were seatedone at each side of his pillow. The four children had all climbed upon to the big bedstead, and were gazing attentively at him. "He is opening his eyes, " said Orion, "he'll be all right after aminute or two. Don't hurry up, father; we can wait. " "We can wait quite well, father, " said Diana; "and it's very comf'ableon 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, " saidApollo. "So it seems, " remarked Mr. Delaney, when he could at last find avoice. "You have all subjected me to a terrible dream. I am reallyglad that I have awakened and find that the hobgoblins, and gnomes, and brownies are no less little people than my own four children. Butwhy am I to be disturbed at such a very early hour?" "If you like, father, " said Diana, "we'll pull up all the blinds; thenthe hot, blazin' sun will come in, and you'll see that it's not earlyat all; it's late. " Mr. Delaney happened to glance at a clock which stood on themantelpiece exactly facing the big bed. "I read on the face of that clock, " he said, "that the hour ishalf-past five. Now, what have you four little children to do, sittingon my bed at half-past five in the morning?" When Mr. Delaney said this he shook himself slightly and upset Diana'sbalance, and made Orion choke with silent laughter. Iris and Apollogazed at him gravely. "We all made up our minds to do it, " said Iris. "We have come to askyou to make a promise, father. " "A promise, my dear children! But you might have waited until theusual hour for getting up. What are you going to wring from me at thisinclement moment?" "I don't exactly know what inclement moment means, " said Iris, "but Ido 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 otherchildren, "we has to think of the poor innocents, and the birds andthe mice, and the green frogs, and our puppy, and our pug dog, andour--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, Iam. " "Yes, father, " said Iris, "we can explain ourselves quite easily. Thething is this--we don't want to go away. " "To go away? My dear children, what do you mean?" But as Mr. Delaneyspoke he had a very uncomfortable memory of a letter which he hadposted 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 likepoor Aunt Jane?" "Guess we don't, " said Orion. "She comed in last night and she made anawful fuss, and she didn't like me 'cos I'm Orion, and 'cos I'm agiant, 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 noaunts; 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 Janebeing here that is so dreadful to me, and so very, very terrible toApollo, " she continued. "It's what she said, father, that we--we wereto go away, away from the house and the garden--the garden wheremother used to be, and the house where the angel came to fetch motheraway--and we are to live with her. She spoke, father, as if it wassettled; but it is not true, is it? Tell us, father, that it is nottrue. " "My poor little children!" said the father. His own ruddy and sunburntface turned absolutely pale; there was a look in his eyes which Dianacould not in the least understand, nor could Orion, and which evenApollo 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 thatmoment to echo her mother's own voice in her ear. She gulped down agreat sob in her throat, and stretching herself by her father's sideshe put one soft arm round his neck. "Never mind if it is _really_ settled, " she said. "I will try hard tobear it. " "You are about the bravest little darling in the world, " said Mr. Delaney. "What are you talking about, Iris?" cried Apollo, clutching his sisterby 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 AuntJane Dolman's, why--why, it will kill me. " And the most beautiful ofall the heathen gods cast such a glance of scorn at his parent at thatmoment that Mr. Delaney absolutely quailed. "For goodness' sake, Apollo, don't eat me up, " he said. "The fact isthis, children; I may as well have the whole thing out. Aunt Jane camelast 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 ofFortune. She is a very good soul, but you want more than her to lookafter you, and then Miss Stevenson--I never did think her up to much. " "Father, " said Apollo, "you have no right to abuse our spiritualpastors and masters. " Notwithstanding his heathenish name, it will be seen by this remarkthat some of his time was occupied learning the church catechism. "I stand corrected, my son, " said Mr. Delaney, "or, rather, at thepresent moment, I lie corrected. Well, children, the truth mustout--Aunt Jane took me by surprise. She promises she will look afteryou 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 doanything now. The whole thing is arranged. I hope you will try to begood, and also to be happy with Aunt Jane. You won't find her half badwhen you get to know her better, and of course I won't be very longaway, and when I come back again--" "Please don't say any more, father, " interrupted Iris. She slipped offthe bed and stood very pale and still, looking at her father with eyeswhich, notwithstanding all her efforts, were full of reproach. "Come, children, " she said to the others, "let poor father have hissleep 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 nothurt you for the whole world. " "Of course we are not angry, father, " said Iris. She bent slowlyforward 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 offyour knees. They was lovely and flat, and I didn't mind sitting onthem 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 saynothing of my sensations at having this giant Orion planting himselfon my chest. I will have a long talk with you all, darlings, in thecourse of the day, and I do hope you won't be very unhappy with yourAunt Jane Dolman. " "We'll be mis'ble, but it can't be helped, " said Diana. "I never didlike aunts, and I'm never going to, what's more. Come 'long now, sildrens. It's a gweat nuisance getting up so early, particular whenfather 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 strodedown the passage and returned to the night-nursery. She and Orionslipped into their respective little cots and lay down without wakingeither Fortune or Susan, who slept in beds at the opposite side of theroom. Iris and Apollo also returned to their beds, and presentlyApollo dropped asleep, for, though he had an alarming temper, his fitsof passion never lasted long. But Iris did not close her bright browneyes again that morning. She lay awake, full of troubledthoughts--thoughts far too old for her tender years. It was one of Fortune's fads never on any occasion to awaken asleeping child, and as the other children slept rather longer thanusual after their early waking, breakfast was in consequence full halfan hour late in the day-nursery that morning. At last, however, it wasfinished. No special lessons had been attended to since mother hadgone away to the angels, and the children, snatching up their hats, rushed off as fast as possible to the garden. When they got there theyall four breathed freely. This at least was their own domain--theirfairyland, their country of adventure. From here they could travel togoodness only knew where--sometimes to the stars with bright Apolloand brave Orion--sometimes to happy hunting fields with Diana, thegoddess 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 seemedas if an additional ray of sunshine had come out to fill all the happyworld with light and love and beauty. The bees hummed moreindustriously than ever, the flowers opened their sweet eyes and gazedat the children, the animals came round them in a group. On this special morning, however, Diana's dear little face looked verygrave 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 thismorning. 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 hasto 'cide whether he is to have a public or a pwivate funeral, orwhether he is just to be sewn up in dock leaves, and put into thegwound p'omisc's. " Diana had a great facility for taking up long words, which she alwaysused in the most matter-of-fact style, not in the least caring how shepronounced them. The other children could not help laughing at her now, and the fourhurried off as fast as they possibly could to the dead-house. This unpleasantly named abode was in reality a pretty little shed inone corner of the old garden. It contained a door with lock and key, anice little window, and everything fitted up for the keeping of toolsand carpenters' implements. Long ago, however, the children decidedthat here the dead animals of all sorts and species were to be keptuntil the solemn moment of interment. Iris looked just as grave as the others when she unlocked the door ofthe dead-house now, and they all entered. The dead 'uns were decentlylaid out on a shelf, just in front of the public view. There was adead bee, and two butterflies; there were two dead worms and a deadtoad; also three or four beetles in different stages of decomposition, and a terribly crushed spider--and solemnly lying in the midst of hisdead brethren lay Rub-a-Dub, the precious and dearly loved piebaldmouse. "They look beautiful, poor darlin's, " said Diana; "they will most fillup 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 herbrows, and gazing anxiously at her sister. "The toad seems to me to berather big to have only a pwivate funeral. We could scarcely get dockleaves enough. " "We must try, " answered Iris; "the toad must be buried privately withthe others. We always make it a rule--don't you remember, Di--only togive public funerals to our own special pets. " "All wight, " answered Diana. She was very easily brought round toaccept Iris' view. In her heart of hearts she considered Iris' verdictlike the laws of the Medes and Persians--something which could notpossibly be disputed. "Run, Orion!" she said; "be quick, and fetch as many dock leaves aspossible. I will thread a needle so as to sew up the poor dead 'uns intheir coffins. We must get through the pwivate funerals as quick aspossible 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 ofdock leaves. Then the children sat down on the floor and began to sewcoffins for the different dead 'uns. They were accustomed to the workand did it expeditiously and well. When all the poor dead 'uns weresupplied with coffins they were carried in a tray across the gardento the far-famed cemetery. Here they were laid in that part of theground apportioned to private funerals. Apollo made small holes withhis spade, and each dead 'un in his small coffin was returned tomother earth. The ground was immediately covered over, and Apollotrampled on it with his feet. He did this on the present occasion withright good will. "I'll be rather glad when the funerals are over, " hesaid, 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, andI really believe I may be able to make a funnel and a place forboiling water. You would like to see my ship when it is afloat; wouldyou not, Iris?" "Yes; very much indeed, " answered Iris. "I call ships stupid, " said Diana. "I don't see no use in 'em. Now, dolet 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'tfeel; don't you, Di?" "I know nothing 'bout it, " said Diana. "I want to hurry back to gethis beautiful public funeral weady. Now, look here, 'Rion; will you gointo the house to steal the cotton wool, or shall I?" "What is that I hear?" said a voice which seemed to come from rightover the children's heads. They all looked up in alarm, to see Aunt Jane Dolman and their fatherstanding close by. Mr. Delaney wore an amused, and Aunt Jane a scaredexpression. "What were you saying, little girl?" she continued, taking Diana byher 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 apublic funeral. " Mrs. Dolman turned her round black eyes on her brother. Horror wasexpressed in each movement of her face. "My dear Jane, " he said, _sotto voce_, "there are several things whichthese children do which will astonish you very much. Don't you thinkyou had better give up the scheme?" "Not I, David, " she replied. "The more I see of the poor neglectedmites 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 lookedas if it was impossible for anyone in this world to terrify her in thevery least. "If it must be stolen, and if you ask me, " said Mr. Delaney, "perhapsOrion may as well be the thief as anyone else. In the old times of theheathen deities I believe they did now and then stoop to that smallcrime. " "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 forbidyou to go if you are bent on theft. " "But I must go, " said Orion. "Poor Rub-a-Dub must be buried, and Imust have a box for his coffin and cotton wool to lay him in. " "See here, Orion, " said the father; "where do you get the cottonwool?" "We gen'ly get it from Fortune's box in the night-nursery, " repliedOrion. "And you steal it?" "Oh, yes; she would make _such_ a fuss if we asked her for some. Wealways steal it for public funerals. " "Well, on this occasion, and to spare your aunt's feelings, tellFortune that I desire her to give you some. "Now, Jane, " continued Mr. Delaney, "as you are here, and as I amhere, we may both of us as well witness this ceremony. The childrenare fond of doing all honor to their pets, even after the suprememoment of dissolution. Shall we witness this public funeral?" Mrs. Dolman looked wonderfully inclined to say "No, " but as her objectnow was to humor her brother as far as possible, she agreed veryunwillingly 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 unforgottenplayground of her youth excited within her, her brow cleared, and shebecame pleasant and even talkative. The two were in the midst of avery interesting conversation, and were pacing up and down not farfrom the summer-house, when Orion's clear voice was heard. "The publicfuneral is going to begin, " he shouted, "so you had best come along ifyou want to see it. If you don't, Diana and me, and Apollo andIris--why, we don't care. " "Oh, we'll come, you rude little body, " said his father, laughing andchuckling as he spoke. "You mark my words, Jane, " he continued, "youwill have a handful with those children. " "Oh, I'll manage them, " said Mrs. Dolman. "I have not lived mythirty-five years for nothing; they certainly need managing, poorlittle spoilt creatures. " They both hurried to the cemetery, where Apollo was standing, havingdug a grave nearly a foot deep, and large enough to hold a squarecardboard box. He stood leaning on his spade now, his hat pushed off, his handsome little face slightly flushed with the exercise, his eyesfull of a sort of gloomy defiance. But now the funeral procession wascoming on apace. Orion's mouth was much puffed out because he wasblowing vigorously on his Jew's harp, Diana followed him beating alittle drum, and Iris, with long black ribbons fastened to her flowingchestnut locks, was walking behind, carrying the tiny coffin. Iris, asshe walked, rang an old dinner bell in a very impressive manner, andalso sang a little dirge to the accompaniment of the bell and the twoother 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 impressivelines in great haste while the other children were arranging minordetails of the funeral. As the mourning party approached the open grave, Apollo came forwardand dropped on his knees. The coffin was supplied with strings ofwhite satin ribbon, and was lowered with great solemnity into thegrave. Then the four mourners stood over it and each of them sang thelast 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 Apollowith great vigor began to shovel in the earth. "Make a nice high mound, " said Diana; "let it look as like a wealgwave as possible. " Then she turned eagerly to her sister. "When arewe to see about making the tombstone for the head and the feet?" sheasked. "We'll talk it over this evening, " answered Iris. It may here be noted that none of the four mourners took the slightestnotice of Mr. Delaney or of Mrs. Dolman. To them it was as if thesetwo grown-up spectators did not exist--they were all lost in their ownintensely important world. "Well, " said Mrs. Dolman, as she turned away with her brother, "of allthe heathenish and wicked nonsense that I was ever permitted towitness, this beats everything. It is a right good thing--yes, I willsay it frankly, David--that you are going abroad, and that yourbenighted children are handed over to me. When you come back in a yearor two--I assure you, my dear brother, I do not wish to hurry you--butwhen 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 thechildren to you, and I hope to Heaven I am doing right; but do notspoil them whatever you do, for to me and to their sainted motherthey were ever the sweetest little quartette that breathed the breathof life. " Mr. Delaney's eyes filled with sudden tears as he said thesewords. "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 wasfilled with every modern convenience, and possessed plenty of roomspapered with light, bright-looking papers, and painted also incheerful colors. The windows were large and let in every scrap ofsunshine; the passages and hall and stairs were broad and roomy; thenurseries and the children's rooms were models of comfort; theservants were all well behaved and thoroughly accustomed to theirduties; the meals were punctual to a moment; in fact, nothing was leftto chance at Super-Ashton Rectory. Mrs. Dolman was the life and soul of this extremely orderly Englishhome. She was one of the most active little women in the world. Sheinvariably got up, summer and winter, soon after six o'clock, andmight be seen bustling about the house, and bustling about the garden, and bustling about the parish from that moment until she retired torest again, somewhere between ten and eleven at night. She was neverexactly cross, but she was very determined. She had strict ideas, andmade 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, thoughta great deal more of by the parishioners than her husband, theReverend William Dolman, and the real Rector of Super-Ashton. Mr. Dolman was a very large man, tall in stature and broad. He wasalso fat and loosely built. He had a kindly face and a good-humoredway of talking. He preached very fair sermons on Sundays, and attendedto his duties, but without any of the enthusiasm which his wifedisplayed. When Mrs. Dolman wrote to her husband to say that she was returninghome with the four little Delaneys, it caused considerable excitementat the breakfast table. Five little hearts beat considerably fasterthan usual; but so great were the order and regularity of thehousehold that the five little faces to which the hearts belongedremained apparently impassive. Miss Ramsay, the governess, was presiding at the head of the table. The Dolman girls were neatly dressed in print frocks with whitepinafores; the boys wore holland blouses and knickerbockers. The boyshappened to be the two youngest of the family, and none of thechildren had yet gone to school. The name and ages of the five were asfollows: First came Lucy, aged twelve; then Mary, aged ten; then Ann, aged nine; then Philip and Conrad, aged respectively seven and a halfand six. The faces of the whole five bore a curious resemblance toboth father and mother, the eldest girl having the round, black eyesof her mother, and the large, somewhat irregular features of thefather. Mary resembled Lucy in being fat and largely built, but hereyes were blue instead of black; while little Ann had a small face, with gray eyes and rather sensitive lips. The complexions of the threewere fair, and their good looks were rather above the average. Theywere proper, neat-looking little girls, and, notwithstanding theirinward excitement, they ate their breakfast tidily, and took good carenot to express any emotion before Miss Ramsay or their good-naturedfather. "Yes, " said Mr. Dolman, looking at them, and pushing his spectacles upon 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. " Hereplaced his spectacles on his nose and looked over his wife's letteragain. "These are the very words, " he said; "Observe, Miss Ramsay, that I read from the letter. 'I return by the train which reachesSuper-Ashton at six o'clock, and will bring the four Delaneys withme. ' Four, you see, Lucy; that is the number. But mamma does notmention the sex of the children. How many boys or how many girls? Ireally 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 onthe little girl's arm. "You will be punished if you speak Englishagain at meals. " Ann colored and dropped her eyes. She began to eat her bread andbutter hastily; she longed beyond words to tell the others theknowledge 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 groupround the table. "Well, " he continued, "I am glad mamma is coming home. I have reallybeen quite bothered by the parishioners since she went away. There isalways 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 doesnot spare herself; she will have her reward some day. " "God grant it!" said Mr. Dolman, with a heavy sigh. "She certainlywill need rest whenever she does leave this world, for I never didcome across such an active woman. " He left the room, hitching up his huge shoulders as he did so, andslammed 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 herhands 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, andlessons began, just as if no four little Delaneys were to arrive toturn everything topsy-turvy that evening. Lessons proceeded without any interruption until twelve o'clock. Thenthe three little girls retired to the neat bedroom which they sharedtogether, and put on their sun-bonnets, their white capes, and theirwashing-gloves, and came back again to Miss Ramsay, equipped for theirwalk. The boys, with straw hats sticking very far back on their heads, were also waiting Miss Ramsay's pleasure in the hall downstairs. Thechildren and the governess went out walking solemnly two and two, MissRamsay and Conrad in front, Lucy and Mary following, with Ann andPhilip behind. It was a hot day; but Miss Ramsay never excused the morning walk onthe dusty highroads. The children came in very much flushed and tiredat one o'clock for dinner. They assembled again in the big, cooldining room and ate their roast mutton and peas and new potatoes, andrice pudding and stewed fruit with the propriety of children who havebeen thoroughly well brought up. At dinner French was again the only language allowed to be spoken. Inconsequence there was a sad dearth of any conversation at that dinnertable. After dinner Mr. Dolman told Miss Ramsay that he had given ordersabout the wagonette, and he supposed Simpson knew about the sleepingarrangements, as he was given to understand that she had received aletter from Mrs. Dolman. "I have spoken to Simpson, " replied Miss Ramsay, dropping her eyes asshe made the remark, "and she fully understands what is expected ofher. The two girls are to have small rooms to themselves, and so isthe eldest boy, but the youngest will sleep in the nursery with Philipand Conrad. Those are Mrs. Dolman's directions. " "Quite right, quite right, " said Mr. Dolman. "Anything Mrs. Dolmanwishes, of course. Miss Ramsay, I shall not be home to tea thisevening. I have to go to visit a sick parishioner at the other end ofthe parish. Good-by, Lucy; good-by, the rest of you children. I hopeto see you all before bedtime; if not--" "But, father, " burst from Ann, "the new children will be here aboutsix. " "They cannot arrive before half-past six, my dear, " replied Mr. Dolman. "Ann, you have again spoken English, " said Miss Ramsay; "I shall beforced to punish you. You will have to stay in after the others thisafternoon, and learn ten lines of your French poetry. " Poor little Ann colored and her lips trembled. She really feltdreadfully excited, and it was terrible to have to bottle up all herthoughts during the long, hot day. Immediately after dinner the children went up to the schoolroom, wherethey 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 withoutinterruption until five, when there was tea. After tea the childrenwere 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 herFrench poetry as best she could. The ten lines were difficult, and thelittle girl felt sleepy, cross, and dissatisfied. Soon her small, curly head fell upon her plump arms, and sleep took possession of herlittle 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 arecoming so soon, and they are my own first cousins--I seem to see themall the day--they come between me and--and my poetry. Please, MissRamsay, if you'll only allow me I'll get up early to-morrow morningand learn it perfectly. Do say I need not finish it thisafternoon--do, please. " Miss Ramsay was astonished and annoyed at this rebellion on the partof Ann. "You surprise me, " she said. "You know that lessons have to be doneduring lesson hours, and that rules are not to be broken. You knowwhat your mother would say if she heard you talking English at meals. Twice to-day you broke through that rule. The first time I pardonedyou--the second time it was unpardonable. Now, my dear, apply yourselfto your task--get it well over, and you will doubtless be ready towelcome your cousins when they arrive. " Miss Ramsay left the room. Ann shed a few tears, and then, seeingthere was no help for it, applied herself with all her might and mainto learning her appointed task. She got her poetry by heart after afashion, and, hastily replacing the book in the bookcase, ran out ofthe schoolroom. She saw Lucy and Mary pacing up and down the terracein front of the house. They were in clean white frocks, with sashesround their waists, and their hair was very trimly brushed and curledover their heads. Their faces shone from soap and water, and even atthat distance Ann could perceive that their hands were painfully, terribly clean. In her heart of hearts Ann hated clean hands; theymeant so much that was unpleasant--they meant that there must be nogrubbing in the garden, no searching for dear little weeds and smallflowers, and all kinds of delicious, unexpected things in motherearth. In her heart of hearts Ann had a spark of originality of herown, but it had little chance of flourishing under the treatment socarefully pursued at Super-Ashton. Philip and Conrad might also be seen on the terrace in their cleanlinen blouses and fresh knickerbockers; their hands were alsocarefully washed, their hair brushed back from their faces, the facesthemselves shining from soap and water. "Oh, dear! there's no help for it, " thought little Ann, "I must gointo the nursery and let Simpson pull me about. How she will scrub meand tug at my hair, and put on such a horrid starched dress, and it'sso hot to-night! Well, if I hurry I may be in time to tell Philip whatI know about their names. Oh, how delicious it will be! He'll be soexcited. Yes, I'll be as quick as possible. " Ann ran down the long passage which led from the schoolroom to thenursery, opened the door, and approached a prim old servant with asomewhat cross face, who was busily engaged mending stockings. "Please, Simpson, here I am. Will you dress me?" said Ann, panting asshe spoke. Simpson laid down her work with deliberation. "Now, I wonder, Miss Ann, " she said, "why I am to be put about foryou. I have just finished dressing all the other children. Why didn'tyou come with the others? There, miss, you must just dress yourself, for I can't and won't be worried; these stockings must be finishedbefore the mistress comes home. " "All right, " answered Ann, in a cheerful tone. "I can wash myselfbeautifully. May I go into the night-nursery, please, Simpson, and domy best?" "Yes, my dear. You'll find a white frock hanging in the wardrobe. I'llfasten it for you after you have washed yourself and combed out yourhair. Now, do be quick. I would help you willingly, Miss Ann, only Ireally have not a minute to spare; Master Philip and Master Conrad aredreadful with their socks, and when the mistress comes with that freshfamily, goodness knows when I shall have a moment to see to yourclothes again. " Ann dressed herself, and ran back to Simpson. "Simpson, " she said, as that good woman was fastening the hooks andeyes at the back of her frock, "I know it is wrong to be so muchexcited, but I am. My heart beats awfully fast at the thought of theircoming. " "Well, Miss Ann, it's more than my heart does. And now, miss, ifyou'll take a word of advice from me, you'll keep your feelin's toyourself, as far as your ma is concerned. Your ma don't wish any ofyou 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. Nowstand still and don't fidget. " The frock was fastened, and Ann ran off to join her brothers andsisters on the terrace. Lucy and Mary were little girls after their mother's own heart. Theynever questioned her wishes, they never rebelled against her rules, they were as good and well-behaved as any two little English maids ofthe respective ages of twelve and ten could be. Now, as little Annapproached, they looked at her as if they thought her quite beneaththeir notice. "Oh, do go away, Ann!" said Lucy. "Mary and I are talking secrets, andwe don't want you. " "You are always talking secrets, " said Ann. "It's horrid unfair tome. " "We have got to talk things over. We can't confide in you; you're theyoungest. Please don't be disagreeable now. We are having a mostimportant talk. Please run away at once. " Ann looked beseeching, but then, all of a sudden, her eyes fell uponPhilip. She turned, ran up to him, clutched him by the arm, and pulledhim away from Conrad. "Phil, " she said, "I want to have you all to myself. I have somethingterribly exciting to say. " Philip looked from Conrad to Ann. "But you are always getting into hot water, Ann, " he replied, "and Conand I were talking about our fishes. We think if we are very carefulwith our pocket-money we may have enough to buy some gold and silverfish 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 endof the terrace for five minutes. I must speak to someone or I'llburst. " "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 withhim. "Go and do as you are told, Conrad, " he said, in lofty tones; "go tothe other end of the terrace at once. " "It's rather hard on me, " said Conrad. "I like having secrets as wellas anybody else; the air is full of secrets to-day--why shouldn't Ihave some?" "I'll have a secret with you by and by, " said Ann, "if you'll only goaway now. " The little boy looked at her, saw she was in earnest, and obeyedsomewhat unwillingly. "Now then, Ann, " said Philip, "speak out; be as quick as ever youcan. " "Philip, " said Ann, in a solemn voice, "don't you want to know allabout the children who are coming to-night?" "Is that what the secret is about?" said Philip in disgust. "Do youknow, Ann, what I heard Miss Ramsay say to Simpson to-day. She saidthat the new children would be awful bothers, and that _she_ for onedoes not know if she is going to stay, and Simpson said she was surethat she would give notice too. Miss Ramsay said it was an awful shamebringing 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 funnywords 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 kindsof funny things that way, and they turn out no end useful. I know lotsof 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 withyou now, Phil; I want to talk about the children. Whatever Simpsonsays, and whatever Miss Ramsay says, I am delighted that they arecoming. I think it will be fun. In my heart, you know, Phil, I lovefun, 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 Inever thought about them. " "Well, of course they have, and I'll tell you what they are. They havegot lovely names; once I heard mother say that the whole four of themwere called after heathen idols. Isn't it awful and exciting to becalled after a heathen idol? Oh, Phil! they have such lovely names!" Philip was not much interested in heathen idols, but Ann's excitedface 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'llcatch it when mother comes home. You know she never can stand anybodyall jumpy, and jerky, and quivery, like you are now. Well, what arethe names? Out with them and get them over. " "Iris is the name of the eldest girl, " said Ann. "Then comesApollo--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 rousedhis real interest at last. "Of course, Apollo is very well knownindeed. 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 isin the Bible. Miss Ramsay read the whole story aloud to us lastSunday when the beastly rain kept dropping and dropping all day long. 'Great is Diana of the Ephesians. ' I rather like the sound, butthere's nothing at all in a name of that sort, Ann. " "Well, I didn't say there was, " answered Ann. "I only think it awfullypretty. " "I don't think much of it for an ordinary girl. Well, now, what is theother 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 namelike it. " "You bet?" said Philip. "Oh, if mamma only heard you!" "For goodness' sake, don't tell her, " said Ann. "I can't help lettingout sometimes, and it does relieve me so. The name of the other boy isOrion, 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 thenext moment the wagonette swept into view. The horses drew up with anourish at the front door of the pretty Rectory, and the five littleDolmans rushed forward. "Stand back, children, and allow your cousins to get comfortably outof the carriage, " called out Mrs. Dolman. "No excitement, I beg, fromany of you--I have had quite enough of that already. Stand quietlyjust 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, getout quietly--quietly, my dear. Apollo, give me your hand, you comenext; now, Diana--easy, little girl, easy--you will fall, if you jumplike 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. Whenshe found herself on the gravel sweep she stood very firmly on her twofat legs and looked her five cousins all over. "You aren't none of you much to boast, " she said; "I'd wather have theanimals. " Then she turned her back and gazed around her at the view. Meanwhile, Orion was being helped out of the carriage. He was alsovery sturdy and independent, and felt half inclined to follow Diana'sspirited example; but Mrs. Dolman would not permit this. She took theyoungest of the little heathen gods firmly into her arms and depositedhim on the gravel. "There you are, little boy, " she said, giving him a slight shake asshe did so, "and I do trust you will behave yourself. " Orion ran up to Diana and took hold of her hand. Diana took no noticeof him, but continued to admire the view. Mrs. Dolman's face was quite red. She was very tired after her longjourney, and she had found the little Delaneys not the easiesttraveling companions in the world. It is true that Iris had been asgood as possible, but between whiles she had cried a good deal, andher 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 threelittle Delaneys had not yet got the slightest idea into their headsthat they were bound to obey Mrs. Dolman. Far from this; a sudden andextreme naughtiness had taken possession of their unruly littlehearts. Even Iris' gentle words had no effect on them. They hated AuntJane; considering her, in their heart of hearts, extremely cruel andunworthy of affection. Had she not parted them at one blow from theirfather, their home, their lovely garden, even from poor Fortune, whowas better than nobody, and, above all, from their darling, preciouspets? They had none of them been broken-hearted children when theirmother died, but they all, even Iris, felt broken-hearted now. Butthis fact did not prevent their being extremely naughty andrebellious, and when Diana felt Orion's hand clutching hers, shewhispered 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 twoselves. " "What are you talking about, little children?" questioned Mary Dolman. "You mean to run away all by yourselves. But you must do nothing ofthe 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 mammawould like you first to go upstairs and have your faces and handswashed. 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 yourcousins. Now, you four children, follow Lucy and Ann to your rooms, where my servant, Simpson, will attend upon you. Go, children, atonce. If there is any naughtiness, remember I shall have to punish youseverely. " "What do she mean by that?" said Diana, fixing her eyes on Mary'sface. "I never did like aunts. Is she your aunt?" "No; she is my mother, " said Mary, "and you must not speak in thattone of mamma. " "I'll speak in any tone I p'ease, " replied Diana. "Ise not going to befwightened. 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 larkit will be to see you punished, Diana. I wonder when your first timewill come? I expect rather soon. You had best obey mamma, I can tellyou, 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 tobed. " "You must have supper first. Did you not hear mamma say so? Now, comealong 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; "andplease, 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 atthese words--they were the first attempt at a real welcome she hadreceived. She held out her hand to Ann without a word, and theDelaneys and Dolmans entered the cheerful Rectory in a body. The fourlittle strangers, accompanied by Mary and Ann, went upstairs, whereSimpson was waiting for them. Simpson was feeling very cross at thearrival of four additional children, but when she saw Diana's tiredface, and the tears on Iris' pale cheeks, and the defiant, and yetbaby look in Orion's bright eyes, something came over her which shecould not quite account for, and she suddenly became kind andagreeable. "Come, my dears, " she said; "why, you must all be dead tired, you poorlittle 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 andfixing 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 bowand 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 thepoor 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 itin your bedroom I'll just go straight down and tell my mistress. " "And then you'll get punished, Diana, " said Mary, in her most annoyingvoice. "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 onthe floor. "Orion, " she said, turning to her little brother, "you take good careof our pwecious box. And what is you?" she continued, raising her eyesto Simpson's face. "Well, my dear, at the present moment I am the nurse, and ready towash you and look after you, and make you comfortable. " "Then I wishes to say something, " remarked Diana. "I wishes to say itbold, and I wishes to say it soon. I hate cousins, more 'speciallyfirst, and I hate nurses. There, now, you can go downstairs, firstcousin, and tell aunt, and she can punish me. I don't care. You cantell your mamma just what you p'ease. " Diana strutted across the room, deposited her box on thewashhand-stand, and then, turning round once again, began to view thecompany. 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 childand she has gone through great trouble, for our mother--our ownmother--she has left us, you know. Diana does not really mean to berude. Please let me talk to her. Di, darling, come to me, come toIris. " It was impossible to resist Iris when she spoke in that tone, and whenshe looked at Diana with her speaking dark eyes, and that gentle, beautiful expression on her little face, it seemed to Diana then as ifthe hard journey, and the pain of all the partings had never takenplace at all. She rushed up to her sister, clasped her fat arms roundher neck, and began to sob. "Poor little thing, she is dreadfully tired!" said Iris. "If I mighthave a little bread and milk to give her, and then if she might be putto bed, I know she would fall asleep immediately and be quite herselfin the morning. " "Indeed, miss, I think you are right, " said Simpson, who could nothelp gazing at Iris with admiration. "I see you are a very kind littlesister, 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 mymissus may be angry. Oh, my word! there's the supper gong. You must godown at once, Miss Iris, you really must. I cannot answer for two ofyou being absent, but I will speak to Mrs. Dolman afterwards, and tellher that I just put Miss Diana straight to bed, for she was much toosleepy 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 anysupper, and I know how to manage her. She has gone through a greatdeal. " "Well, miss, do you dare?" "Oh, I dare anything! I am quite positive certain Aunt Jane won't mindwhen 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 heartsof the two little cousins were knit together in real love from thatmoment. The gong sounded again downstairs, and this time in a distinctly angrymanner. The three Dolman girls and the two Delaney boys had to hurryoff as fast as they could, and then Iris undressed Diana and put herinto her snug little white bed. "I is drefful unhappy, Iris, " said Diana, as she laid her head on herpillow. "But you won't be in the morning, Diana. You'll feel brave and strongand 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 hassomethin' to eat? They is so far from home, poor darlin's, and theyhas come a drefful long journey, and they may be deaded in the morningif 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 happyslumber and innocent dreams. She knew nothing whatever about what poorIris, to her dismay, soon discovered, namely, that Simpson had marchedoff 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 mighthave gone on being so but for Diana. The four little Delaneys hadslept well, and were refreshed; and as the sun was shining brightly, and there was a pleasant breeze blowing, Mrs. Dolman decided that allthe nine children might have a holiday in order to get acquainted withone another. It did not seem so very dreadful to Iris and Apollo tohave cousins to walk about with and talk to. Philip and Conrad, too, were fairly kind to little Orion; they took him round to see theirgardens and their several pets. Life was certainly prim at the Rectorycompared to what it had been at the Manor; but children will bechildren all the world over, and when there is a bright sun in theheavens, and flowers grow at their feet, and a gentle breeze isblowing, it is almost impossible to be all sulks and tears and misery. Even Diana was interested in what was going on. She had never beenaway from home before, and she found it pleasant to watch the Dolmanchildren. As she expressed it, in her sturdy fashion, she did notthink 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 qualifiedmeasure of approval from the saucy little miss. Lucy and Mary shecould not bear, but as Ann showed her all her treasures, and as Annhappened also to be very fond of animals, Diana began to chatter, andpresently became almost confidential. Suddenly, however, in the midstof quite a merry game of play, the little girl was heard to utter ashout. "Where is my darlin's that I brought from home?" she cried; "my threespiders and my four beetles? I have not given none of 'em theirbwekfus. I must wun and fetch 'em. Iris promised to see to 'em lastnight, so I know they isn't deaded; but I must go this very instantminute to feed 'em, 'cos, of course, they wants their bwekfus, poordears. If you like I'll show 'em to you, Ann; you can see 'em whilethey 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, ranhelter-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 wasneatly made; there was not a sign of the precious box to be discoveredanywhere. "Where is that howid old nurse?" called Diana aloud. "She must knowwhere my pets is. Oh, they must be desp'te hungry, poor darlin's. Isay, nurse, where is 'oo? Nurse, come 'long, you howid old thing!" Simpson, who happened to be in the day-nursery not far away, heardDiana's imperious little cry. The under-nurse was also standing in theroom. "Mrs. Simpson, " she said, "I hear one of the strange little ladiescalling out for you. " "Well, and so do I hear her, " answered Mrs. Simpson, with a toss ofher head; "but she must learn to speak respectful before I take anynotice. I fully expect it's that pert little Miss Diana. They say sheis called after one of the heathen gods; no wonder she is so fieryand--" But at that moment the fierce little face, the jet-black head andsparkling eyes were seen peeping round the nursery door. "There you is, old Simpson; that's wight, " said Diana, dancing up toher. "Now, p'ease, tell me where you put my box. " "What box, miss? I'll thank you, Miss Diana, not to call me oldSimpson. My name is Mrs. Simpson. " "I only call you what you is, " said Diana. "You is old, your hair isgway; you is awfu' old, I 'spect. Now, where is my box? Where did youput it, old--I mean, Mrs. Simpson?" "What box, miss?" said Simpson, beginning to temporize, for she reallywas afraid of the burst of wrath which Diana might give way to whenshe learned the truth. "You _is_ a stupid, " said Diana. "It's the box what holds my pweciousbeetles and spiders. I want to feed 'em. I'm just going to catch fliesfor my spiders. I know how to catch 'em quite well; and my dear littlebettles, 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. Wecan't have no messing with horrid vermin in this house. I would notstay here for an hour if I thought those odious beetles and spiderswere anywhere about. " "Well, then, you can go, " said Diana; "nobody wants you to stay; youis of no cons'kence. I want my darlin' pets, my little home thingsthat 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, " saidSimpson. "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 youtake 'em away?" "Your sister knew nothing about it, miss. I took the box last nightand threw it into the dust-hole. I hope the vermin inside are dead bynow--horrid, odious, disgusting things!" "Vermin!" cried Diana. Her great eyes leaped, a ray of pure fireseemed to dart from them. She looked for a moment as if she meant tostrike Simpson, but then, thinking better of it, she turned and rushedlike a little fury from the room. Downstairs, with her heart choking, her breath coming fast, her whole little body palpitating with themost frantic passion, she ran. The first person she happened to meet was her uncle, Mr. Dolman. Hewas coming sleepily in from the garden, for the day was gettingintensely hot. He meant to go to his study to begin to write hissermon for next Sunday. He did not feel at all inclined to write hissermon, but as it had to be got through somehow, he thought he woulddevote an hour, or perhaps an hour and a half, to its composition thismorning. When he saw Diana, however, rushing madly through the hall, with her eyes shining, her face white, and her whole little bodyquivering with excitement, he could not help exclaiming under hisbreath at her remarkable beauty. "What a handsome little spitfire!" he said aloud. "Spitfire, indeed!" said Diana; "it's you all who is spitfires; it'snot me. I want to say something to you, big man. " "Very well, small girl, " answered Mr. Dolman. "I am willing to listento 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. Iwant you to get the perlice, and have her hands tied, and have hertook away to pwison. She has done a murder--she has killed my--" Buthere little Diana's voice suddenly failed; high as her spirit was, itcould not carry her any further. A sense of absolute loneliness cameover her, and her passion ended in a burst of frantic weeping. And now all might have been well, for Mr. Dolman was a kind-heartedman, and the little child, in her black dress, would have appealed tohim, and he would have taken her in his arms and comforted her after afashion, and matters might never have been so sore and hard again forlittle Diana, if at that moment Mrs. Dolman had not appeared. She waswalking hastily across the hall with her district-visiting hat on. Mrs. Dolman's district-visiting hat was made in the shape of a verylarge mushroom. It was simply adorned with a band of brown ribbon, andwas not either a becoming or fashionable headgear. Diana, who had a strong sense of the ludicrous, stopped her tearswhere 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, youhave taken her in your arms; put her down this minute. Diana, you area very naughty little girl. " "So is you a very naughty old woman, " retorted Diana. "I's not goingaway from this nice old man. I don't like you. I'm going to stay withyou, old man, so don't put me down out of your arms. You will send forthe perlice, won't you, and you'll have that howid puson upstairs putin pwison. Go 'way, aunt. I never did like you, and I never will, andyou is awfu' poky in that bonnet. But I'll go with you, old man. " Hereshe 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 oldman, 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. Icannot in the least make out why, but perhaps you had better let hercome with me into the library for a few minutes. " "I'll allow nothing of the kind, " answered Mrs. Dolman. "Diana Delaneyis an extremely naughty little child, and I am quite determined thather spirit shall be broken. It was all very well for you to go on withyour 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 astout and largely-made child, and the little woman found her somewhatdifficult to carry. She would not let her down, however, but conductedher across the cool hall and into a room at the further end of thepassage. This room was nearly empty, matting covered the floor and around table stood in the center, while two or three high-backedchairs, with hard seats, were placed at intervals round the walls. Itwas a decidedly dreary room, and rendered all the more so because themorning sun was pouring in through the dusty panes. This room was well known to all the little Dolmans, for it was calledthe punishment chamber. In this room they had all of them shed bittertears in their time, and some of the spirit which had been given tothem at their birth was subdued and broken here, and here they learnedto fear mamma, although not to respect her. They were all accustomedto this chamber, but little Diana Delaney had never in the wholecourse of her spirited six years heard of anything in the leastresembling this odious and ugly apartment. "Here you stay until you beg my pardon, " said Mrs. Dolman, "and if Ihear you daring to call me names again, or your uncle names, or doinganything but just behaving like a proper little Christian child, Ishall have you whipped. I believe in not sparing the rod, and so thechild is not spoiled. What, you'll defy me, miss!" "I hate you, " screamed Diana, "and I want you to go to pwison too, aswell as that awfu' old Simpson upstairs. She has gone and murdered allmy animals--she said they was vermin. Oh, I hate you, aunt!" "Hate me or not, you'll stay where you are until dinner-time, " saidMrs. Dolman, and she left the room, locking the door after her. Diana flew to it and kicked it furiously, but although she kicked andscreamed and shouted herself hoarse, no one heard her, and no one cameto the rescue. At last, worn out with her frantic grief, she threwherself down in the middle of the floor and, babylike, forgot hersorrows 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 littlesister until the preparation gong for dinner sounded. The moment itssonorous notes were heard pealing over the Rectory garden, little Anngot 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 ourhands and have our hair brushed. Mamma would be very angry if we werenot all in the dining room when the second gong sounds. There is onlyfive minutes between the two gongs, so we had better go and get readyat once. " Iris was quite ready to accompany her cousins into the house. Now, forthe 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 canDi be? I thought she was with you, Apollo. " "I have not seen her for the greater part of the morning, " repliedApollo. "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 youthis afternoon?" "Yes; but pray don't talk so loud. I'll take you, if you won't splitabout it. " "What's 'split'?" questioned Orion. "Hush, you little beggar!" Philip drew Orion to one side and began towhisper 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. Verywell, 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--" Herehe 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 thenurseries--perhaps she is with Simpson. " The whole party entered the house, which was very cool and pleasant incontrast to the hot outside world. They met Mr. Dolman striding acrossthe hall. "You had better be quick, children, " he called out. "Mamma won't bepleased unless you are all waiting and ready to sit down to table whenthe second gong sounds. " "Oh, please, Uncle William!" said Iris, "do you happen to know whereDiana 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, praydon't say that I mentioned it. You had better question your aunt, mydear. No, there is no use asking me. I vow, once for all, that I amnot going to interfere with you children--particularly with you littleDelaneys. I only know that Diana has been naughty. Ask your aunt--askyour aunt, my dear. " "Iris, do pray come upstairs, " called out Mary; "we'll get into themost dreadful scrape if we are late. Mamma is so terribly particular. " "Oh, there is Aunt Jane!" said Iris, with a sigh of relief. "AuntJane, please, " she continued, running up to her aunt as she spoke, "Ican't find Diana anywhere. Do you happen to know where she is?" "I am afraid you won't find Diana, Iris, " answered Mrs. Dolman, "forthe simple reason that she has been a very impertinent, naughty littlegirl, 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 outof his dark eyes when he chose, and Mrs. Dolman had been known, in herearly days, to quail before them. For the same inexplicable reason shequailed now before the look in Iris' brown eyes. "Please take me atonce 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. "Butplease first understand that you four children have got to bend yourwills to mine; and when you are naughty, --although I don't expect youwill ever be naughty, Iris, --I trust you, at least, will be an exampleto the others, --but when any of you are naughty you will be mostcertainly punished. I have brought you here with the intention ofdisciplining you and making you good children. " "Then, " said Iris, very slowly, "do you really think, Aunt Jane, thatwhen mother was alive we were bad children?" "I have nothing to say on that point, " answered Mrs. Dolman. She ledIris across the cool hall, and, taking a key out of her pocket, openedthe 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 couldyou be cruel to her, and she is not long without mother, you know--howcould you be cruel to her, Aunt Jane?" "You are not to dare to speak to me in that tone, Iris, " said AuntJane. But at that moment the noise, or perhaps it was the draught of freshair, caused Diana to stir in her sleep. She raised her head and lookedaround 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 amother. You made a lot of pwomises, and that's all you care. Has thatugly old woman been sent to pwison? There's my darlin' pets gone andgot 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 obeyyou, so there! Now you know the twuf. I is Diana, the gweat Diana. Iisn't going to obey nobody!" "Iris, " said Mrs. Dolman, "will you speak to this extremely naughtylittle girl? If she will not repent and beg my pardon she shall haveno dinner. I will send her in some bread and water; and here she shallstay until her naughty little spirit is broken. " Mrs. Dolman left the room as she spoke, and Iris found herself alonewith her sister. "You isn't much of a mother, " repeated Diana. She went over to thewindow, and stood with her back to Iris. Her little bosom was heavingup and down; she felt very forlorn, but still she hugged her misery toher as a cloak. Iris gazed at her in perplexity. "Di, " she said, "I never saw you like this before. What are youturning 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 muchof a mother, " she repeated. "But I did not know you were in trouble, darling. Do, do come to yourown Iris. Do tell me what is the matter. " "Oh, Iris!" sobbed Diana. The first kind note utterly melted her little heart; she rushed toher sister, flung herself upon her, and sobbed as if she would neverstop crying. "We can't stay in this howid place, Iris, " she said; "all my darlin'shas gone and got deaded. That howid old woman upstairs said they waswermin. 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 somis'ble. " Iris sat down on one of the hard-backed chairs. "Look here, Di, " she said, "I have no time now to talk things overwith you. Of course, everything is altered, and our lives arecompletely changed. When mother was dying, when I last saw her, shetold me that I must expect this. She said she knew that, when she wentaway to the angels, we four children would have to go out into theworld and fight our battles. She said that everybody in the world hasgot 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 shewants us to be, we would follow the names she gave us and conquer ourenemies. Now, Di, you are called after Diana, the great Diana, who wassupposed to be a sort of goddess. Do you think she would have givenin? Don't you think she would have been brave?" "Yes, course, " said the little nineteenth-century Diana. "She wouldhave shotted people down dead with her bow and arrows--I know kitewell she was a bwave sort of a lady. All wight, Iris, I'll copy her ifyou 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 herarrows; she was a gweat huntwess, and she shotted people. I don'tmind 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 killpeople. " "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 Iliked my own self?" "I expect so; I expect she is really sorry that she had to be hard onyou to-day; but you see she has got a different way of bringing upchildren from our own mother. " "Please, Iris, we won't talk much of our own mother--it makes me lumpyin the trof, " said Diana, with a little gulp. "I'll beg her pardon, ifit 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 sheshotted lots of people. " "Well, then, come along, Di; you'll be allowed to come to dinner ifyou beg Aunt Jane's pardon. " Di gave her hand to Iris, who took her upstairs. Here Iris washed herlittle 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 toyou. " "All wight, " answered Diana; "you just mind me now and then that I iscalled after the bwave lady what lived long, long ago. Is that thesecond 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, therich color back again in her cheeks, and her black eyes dancing. EvenMr. Dolman gave a gasp of relief when he saw her. Even Mrs. Dolman felt a slight degree of satisfaction. She did notintend to be hard on the children--in her heart of hearts she wasquite resolved to make them not only good, but also happy. "Well, my dear little girl, " she said, drawing Diana to her side, "andso 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 veryattentively 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 goodlittle girl. " Diana made no reply to this, but when her aunt piled her plate withnourishing and wholesome food, she began to eat with appetite. Towardsthe end of the meal she bent over towards Mrs. Dolman, and said in aconfiding 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 tablevery solemnly as she said these last words. Philip could not helplaughing. "Hush, Philip! I won't have Diana laughed at, " said Mrs. Dolman, whofor some reason was now inclined to be specially kind to the littlegirl. "If you would really like to spend the afternoon in the woods, Diana, I see nothing against it, " she remarked. "You are all having aholiday, and as to-morrow lessons will of course be resumed, I do notsee why your wish should not be gratified. Miss Ramsay, you will ofcourse accompany the children, and, Lucy, my dear, you can have thepony chaise, if you promise to be very careful. You can take turns tosit in it, children. And what do you say to asking cook to put up afew bottles of milk and some cake and bread and butter--then you neednot 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 tendertheir 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 uponthe 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 wasfull of her namesake--the great Diana of long ago. She wondered if inthe deep shade of the woods she might find a bow strong enough toinjure her enemies. CHAPTER X. BOW AND ARROW. Nothing interfered with the excursion to the pleasant woods nearSuper-Ashton Rectory. The children all found themselves there soonafter four o'clock on this lovely summer afternoon. They could situnder the shade of the beautiful trees, or run about and play to theirhearts' content. Miss Ramsay was a very severe governess during school hours, but whenthere was a holiday she was as lax as she was particular on otheroccasions. This afternoon she took a novel out of her pocket, seatedherself with her back to a great overspreading elm tree, and preparedto 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 liestretched out flat on the grass playing soldiers, and watching thetricks of a snow-white rabbit who ran in and out of his hole close by. Presently, however, she grew tired of this solitary entertainment, andsprang 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'sSimpson's turn to be punished--it'll do them heaps of good. First timeI'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 livejust like the gweat Diana what lived long, long, _long_ ago. " Diana began to trot eagerly up and down under the shade of the tallforest trees. She looked about her to right and left, and presentlywas fortunate enough to secure a pliant bough of a tree which waslying on the ground. Having discovered this treasure, she sat downcontentedly and began to pull off the leaves and to strip the bark. When she had got the long, supple bough quite bare, she whipped somestring out of her pocket, and converted it into the semblance of abow. It was certainly by no means a perfect bow, but it was a bowafter a fashion. The bow being made, the arrow must now be secured. Diana could notpossibly manage an arrow without a knife, and she was not allowed tokeep a knife of her own. Both bow and arrow must be a secret, for ifanyone saw her with them it might enter into the head of that personnot to consider it quite proper for her to punish Aunt Jane. "And Aunt Jane must be punished, " muttered Diana. "I must make anarrow, and I must pwick her with it. My bow is weally beautiful--it isa little crooked, but what do that matter? I could shoot my arrow nowand pwick the twees, if only I could get one made. Oh, here's adarlin' little stick--it would make a lovely arrow, if I had a knifeto sharpen the point with. Now, I do wonder what sort of a woman thatMiss Wamsay is. " Diana fixed her coal-black eyes on the lady. "She looks sort of gentle now she's weading, " whispered the littlegirl to herself. "She looked howid this morning in the schoolroom, butshe 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. Iknow what I'll do; I'll just go and ask her--there is nothing in allthe 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 togive Aunt Jane a little pwick. " Accordingly Diana approached Miss Ramsay's side, and, as the governessdid not look up, she flung herself on the grass near by, uttering adeep sigh as she did so. But Miss Ramsay was intent on her book, anddid not take the least notice of Diana's deep-drawn breath. The littlegirl fidgeted, and tried further measures. She came close up to thegoverness, and, stretching out one of her fat hands, laid it on one ofMiss Ramsay's. "Don't touch me, my dear, " said the lady. "You are much too hot, andyour hand is very dirty. " "I's sossy for that, " said Diana. "I had to touch you 'cos youwouldn't look up. I has something most 'portant to talk over. " "Have you indeed?" replied Miss Ramsay. She closed her book. The partshe was reading was not specially interesting, and she could not helpbeing amused with such a very curious specimen of the genus child asDiana Delaney. "Well, little girl, and what is it?" she asked. "I 'spects, " said Diana, looking very solemnly into her face, "thatyou and me, we has both got the same enemies. " "The same enemies! My dear child, what do you mean?" asked MissRamsay. "I 'spects I's wight, " said Diana, tossing her black head. "I's notoften wrong. I wead your thoughts--I think that you has a desp'atehate, down deep in your heart, to Aunt Jane. " "Good gracious!" cried the governess, "what does the child mean? Whyshould 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 eyesfilled with tears; the tears rolled down her cheeks; she did notattempt to wipe them away. "What is the matter with you, you queer little creature?" said MissRamsay. "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, youhated her, 'cos I saw her look at you so smart like, and order you tobe 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 certaindirection, as if she were pushing wrong quite out of sight. "I hateher, and I want to punish her. You ought to hate her, 'cos she toldyou to be k'ick, and she looked at you with a kind of a fwown. Won'tyou twy and begin? Do, p'ease. " "I really never heard anything like this before in the whole course ofmy life, " said Miss Ramsay. "Mrs. Dolman did warn me to be preparedfor much, but I never heard a Christian child speak in the way youare doing. " "I isn't a Chwistian child, " said Diana. "I is a heathen. Did younever hear of Diana what lived long, long ago?--the beautiful, bwavelady that shotted peoples whenever she p'eased with her bow andarrows?" "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 meanto be like her. My beautiful mother said I was to be like her, and I'mgoing to twy. See, now, here is the bow"--she held up the crooked bowas she spoke--"and I only want the arrow. Will you help me to make thearrow? I thought--oh, I did think--that if you hated Aunt Jane youwould help me to make the arrow. Here's the stick, and if you have aknife in your pocket you can just sharpen it, and it will make themost perfect arrow in all the world. I'll love you then. I'll help youalways. I'll do my lessons if you ask me, and I'll twy to be good toyou; 'cos you and me we'll both have our enemies, and p'w'aps, if I'mnot stwong enough to use the bow, p'w'aps you could use it, and wemight 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?" askedMiss Ramsay. "I happen, " she continued, without waiting for Diana'sreply, "to have a knife in my pocket, and I don't mind sharpening thatpiece of wood for you. But bows and arrows are dangerous weapons forlittle 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 arrowfor?" "I want to have Aunt Jane Dolman and Simpson shotted. I'll tell youwhy I want 'em both to be shotted--'cos Simpson killed my spiders andbeetles, and Aunt Jane Dolman is a poky old thing and she shut me upin a punishment woom. Now wouldn't you like to help me--and then we'llboth have deaded our enemies, and we'll be as happy as the day islong. " Miss Ramsay was so astounded at Diana's remarks that she slowly rosefrom 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 ofchildren. I have taught little girls and boys since I was eighteenyears of age. I have seen good children and naughty children, andclever children, and stupid children, but I have never met anyone likeyou, little Diana Delaney. Do you really know what you are saying? Doyou know that you are a very, very wicked little girl?" "Are I?" said Diana. "Well, then, I like being a wicked little girl. Ithought 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 abruptlyand flown, as if on the wings of the wind, right down through thewood. The governess watched the little figure disappearing between the oaksand elms until at last it quite vanished from view. She felt amomentary inclination to go after the child, but her book wasinteresting, and her seat under the overhanging elm extremelycomfortable. And this was a holiday, and she worked hard enough, poorthing, on working days. And, after all, Diana was nothing but a sillylittle child, and didn't mean half she said. "It would be folly to take the least notice of her remarks, " thoughtthe governess. "I'll just go on treating her like the others. I expectI shall have a good deal of work breaking in that interesting littlequartette, for, after all, if my salary is to be raised, I may as wellstay at the Rectory as anywhere else. The house is comfortable, and Ihave 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 ofthe volume. Lost in the sorrows of her hero and heroine, she forgotall about Diana Delaney and her bow and arrow. Meanwhile, Diana, walking rapidly away by herself, was reflectinghard. "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 isbeautiful, 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 meether. "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 theweal 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 stwaightenit 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? Thekind that would pwick deep, you know, that would cut into things andbe like the arrow that the gweat Diana used. " Apollo was finding his afternoon somewhat dull. He had made no friendsas yet with the little Dolman children. Orion had disappeared withboth the boys; Iris was with Ann, Lucy, and Mary; he had been thrownfor the last hour completely on his own resources. The sight, therefore, of Diana, with her flushed face and bright eyes andspirited manner, quite cheered the little fellow. He and Diana hadoften been chums, and he thought it would be rather nice to be chummywith his little sister to-day. "I may as well help you, " he said, "but, of course, Di, you can'texpect me to do this sort of thing often. I shall most likely be verysoon 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 bemuch with you. " "All wight, " answered Diana. "I hope you won't get with no fellowsthis 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 herselfon her face and hands by his side. She raised herself on her elbowsand fixed her bright black eyes on her brother's face. She staredvery 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'nateboys. " "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 callsher?" "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 Simpsonis always fussing you and getting you to wash your face and hands, andif you can't never go with _fellows_, and if you is kept in--andif--and if--" "Oh! don't begin all that, Di, " said Apollo. "Where is the use ofmaking the worst of things?" "Well, I want to make the best of things, " said Diana. "I want to haveour enemies shotted wight off. " "Do you mean to tell me, " said Apollo, laughing, "that you wish toshoot 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 theheavens, called me after gweat Diana, and Diana always shotted herenemies. " "Oh, dear me, Di! I think you are the queerest little thing in theworld, " said Apollo. "But now, look here, " he added, "I am older thanyou, and I know that what you are thinking about is very wrong. Ican't make you a bow and arrow to do that sort of thing. " Diana looked bitterly disappointed. She could master, or she fanciedshe could master, Aunt Jane, Simpson, and Miss Ramsay, but she knewwell, from past experience, that she could not master Apollo. "What is to be done?" she said. She thought for a long time. "Wouldnot you like a bow and arrow just all your own, to shoot at the tweeswith?" she asked at last artfully. "Oh, I have no objection to that!" answered Apollo. "It seems rightthat I should have one; does it not, Di? But of course I would neverdo any mischief with it. Why, little thing, you have been talking themost awful rot. " "Well, you can make a bow and arrow for your very own self, " saidDiana. "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 pwomisesabout 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 befine 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 wouldcertainly have a try. Accordingly, he rose and climbed into the lowerbranches 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 thiswas done, Diana produced some more string out of her pocket, and avery creditable bow was the result. "Now, the arrow, " said the little girl. "We must get some strong wood for that, " said Apollo, "something thatwon't split. I'll just walk about and look around me. " He did so, andsoon found a stick suitable for his purpose. He sat down again andbegan whittling away. Very soon a fairly sharp arrow was the result. "Of course it ought to be tipped, " said Apollo, "but we have nothingto tip it with. It is lucky that the wood is hard, and so it is reallysharp. Now, shall I have a few shots with it?" "Please do, Apollo. Oh, how 'licious it all is! Don't you feel just asif you was a heathen god?" "I wish I were, " said Apollo, throwing back his head. "Oh, Di, how hotit is in the wood! What wouldn't I give to be back in the dear oldgarden again?" "Maybe we'll go soon, " said Diana; "maybe they won't want to keep usif--" But here she shut up her little mouth firmly. Apollo was too much excited about the bow and arrows to think ofDiana's remarks. He stood up and began to practice shooting. "You is doing it beautiful, " said Diana, applauding his extremely poorefforts. "Now, twy again. Think that you has lived long, long ago, andthat you is shotting things for our dinner. " The arrow went wide of the mark, the arrow went everywhere but whereit ought to. Diana clapped and laughed and shouted, and Apollo thoughthimself 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 toplace the arrow, and she made one or two valiant attempts to send itflying through the wood. "It is hard, " she panted; "the arrow don't seem even to make the leastlittle pwick. Now, I want to shoot stwaight at that oak twee, or wouldyou mind awfu', Apollo, if I was to shoot at you?" "All right, " replied Apollo; "you may aim at my hand, if you like. " Hewalked about a dozen yards away and held up his hand. Diana made valiant efforts, and grew crimson in the face, but thearrow still went wide of the mark. CHAPTER XI. JOG'APHY. The next day lessons began with a vengeance. It was one thing for thefour Delaney children to work with Miss Stevenson at the old ManorHouse. Lessons in mother's time were rather pleasant than otherwise;as often as not they were conducted in the garden, and when the dayhappened to be very hot, and the little people somewhat impatient ofrestraint, Miss Stevenson gave them a certain amount of liberty; butlessons at the Rectory were an altogether different matter. MissRamsay, when she awoke the next day, had seemed emphatically to haveput 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 Janewith anxious eyes, but Miss Ramsay did not matter, one way or theother. The next day, however, they came to have a totally differentopinion with regard to her. At breakfast, on the following morning, whenever Diana opened herrosebud lips, she was told that she must not speak unless she could doso in the French tongue. Now, all that Diana could manage to say inFrench was 'Oui' and 'Non, ' nor was she very certain when to sayeither of these very simple words. She hated being silent, for she wasa very talkative, cheery little body, except when she was angry. Accordingly, the meal was a depressing one, and Diana began to yawnand to look wearily out on the sunshiny garden before it washalf-finished. But, of course, there was no play in the garden for anyof the children that morning. Immediately after breakfast they allwent up to the schoolroom. Now, the schoolroom was a very pleasantroom, nicely and suitably furnished, but in summer it was hot, and onvery sunshiny days it was painfully hot; its single large bay windowfaced due south, and the sun poured in relentlessly all during thehours of morning school. Miss Ramsay, seated at the head of thebaize-covered table with her spectacles on, looked decidedlyformidable, and each of the children gazed at their governess withanxious eyes. Mary and Lucy were always good little girls, but Philipand Conrad were as idle as boys could possibly be, and did theirutmost to evade Miss Ramsay's endeavors to instill learning into theirsmall heads. Orion sat between his two little boy cousins, but forsome reason or other Orion did not look well that morning. His littleface, not unlike Diana's in appearance, was bloated, his eyes wereheavy, he had scarcely touched his breakfast, and he earnestly, mostearnestly longed to get out of the hot schoolroom. Miss Ramsay, when all the little people were seated round her, knockedsharply on the table with her ruler, and proceeded to make a speech. "My dear old pupils, " she said, looking at the five little Dolmans asshe spoke, "on account of your cousins, who, I fear, are ignorantlittle children, I mean on this occasion to speak to you in theEnglish tongue. I have now got nine pupils to instruct, and ninepupils are a great many for one person to teach. Your mother, however, has promised that the master from the village shall come upto instruct you all in arithmetic, and your French master and yourmusic master will, of course, attend here as usual. I trust, therefore, that by more attention on the part of my pupils I may beable to continue the heavy task which I have undertaken. What I wantto impress upon you children"--here she turned abruptly to the littleDelaneys--"is that lessons are lessons, and play is play. Duringlesson-time I allow _no_ wandering thoughts, I allow no attempts atshirking your duties. The tasks I set you will be carefully chosenaccording to your different abilities, and I can assure you beforehandthat learned they must be. If I find that they are not carefullyprepared I shall punish you. By being attentive, by making the best ofyour time, you can easily get through the lessons appointed you, andthen when they are over I hope you will thoroughly enjoy your time ofplay. Now, all of you sit quiet. We will begin with a lesson fromEnglish history. " Miss Ramsay then began to lecture in her usual style. She was reallyan excellent teacher, and Iris found what she said very interesting. She began to tell about the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and she madethat time quite live to the intelligent little girl. But Apollo hadnot nearly come to the reign of Elizabeth in his English history. He, consequently, could not follow the story, and soon began to look outof the window, and to count the flies which were buzzing in the hotsunshine on the window-panes. When Miss Ramsay addressed a suddenquestion to him he was unable to reply. She passed it on to Ann, whoinstantly gave the correct answer. But Apollo felt himself to be inhis governess' black books. As this was the first morning of lessons, she was not going to be severe, and, telling the little boy to takehis history away to another table, desired him to read it allcarefully through. "I will question you to-morrow about what I told you to-day, " shesaid. "Now, remember, you must tell me the whole story of the SpanishArmada 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 thispart of your history book. Now, sit with your back to the others andbegin. " Apollo shrugged his shoulders. For a short time he made an effort toread his dull history, but then once again his eyes sought thesunshine and the flies on the window panes. Meanwhile Diana, Orion, and the two little Dolman boys were in a classby themselves, busily engaged over a geography lesson. Diana had not the smallest wish to become acquainted with any portionof the globe where she was not herself residing. Her thoughts were allfull of the bow and arrow which Apollo had carefully hidden in alittle dell at the entrance of the wood, on the previous night. Shewas wondering when she could run off to secure the prize, and when shewould have an opportunity of punishing her enemies. She began to thinkthat it would be really necessary to give Miss Ramsay a prick with thefatal arrow. Miss Ramsay was turning out to be most disagreeable. Meanwhile, the heat of the room, and a curious giddy sensation in herhead, caused it to sink lower and lower, until finally it rested onher book, and little Diana was off in the land of dreams. A sharp tap on her shoulders roused her with a start. Miss Ramsay wasstanding over her, looking very angry. "Come, Diana! this will never do, " she cried. "How dare you go tosleep! 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 painsto explain it all to you? You will have to stay in the schoolroom whenlessons 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 youreyes fixed on your book, and then you will soon learn what is requiredof 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 yourlesson? See, I will ask you one more question. What is the capital ofScotland?" "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 togo on learning jog-aphy; it don't suit me. " She stretched herself, gave utterance to a big yawn, and half turned her back on herteacher. "You is getting in temper, " she continued, "and that isn'twight; I don't care to learn jog-aphy. " What serious consequences might not have arisen at that moment it ishard to tell, had not Orion caused a sudden diversion. He fell off hischair 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 andginger-beer. Please let me go to bed. " "Lollipops and ginger-beer!" cried Miss Ramsay in alarm. "What doesthe child mean?" CHAPTER XII. A BABY'S HONOR. When Miss Ramsay repeated Orion's words there was a dead silence for afull half minute in the schoolroom. Had anyone noticed them, theymight have observed Philip and Conrad turn very pale; but all eyeswere directed to little Orion, who was lying on the floor, pressinghis hand to his stomach and moaning bitterly. "I'm drefful sick, " he said; "I wish I had not taken that horridginger-beer. " "But where did you get ginger-beer?" said Miss Ramsay, finding hervoice at last. "Get up this minute, Orion, and come to me. "Really, " continued the good lady to herself, "there must be somethinguncanny in those outlandish names; I don't think I can manage thesechildren. Orion is as bad as Diana, and she is the greatest handful Iever came across. "Come here, Orion, " continued the governess, "and tell me what is thematter 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 onhis bed and talk to him. He is a very naughty boy, but I know how tomanage him. Come 'long, Orion; come 'long wid sister Di. " She graspedthe little boy firmly with one of her own stout little hands, andpulled 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 thelollipops, and I was so thirsty I thought I'd never leave off drinkingginger-beer. " "But where did you get lollipops and ginger-beer? Mrs. Dolman neverallows the children to take such unwholesome things. What can youmean? Where did you get them?" To this question Orion refused to make any reply. Baby as he was, hehad a confused sort of idea of honor. Philip and Conrad had told himthat he was on no account whatever to mention the fact that they hadgone away fishing on the previous afternoon, that they had visited alittle shop and spent some of Orion's own money. Philip and Conrad hadno money of their own, but before he parted with the children, Mr. Delaney had given the two elder ones five shillings apiece, and thetwo younger ones half a crown, and Orion's half-crown had seemed greatwealth to Philip and Conrad, and had accordingly induced them to treatthe little fellow with marked consideration. The whole of the moneywas now gone. How, Orion had not the slightest idea. He only knew thathis 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 ofscowl in their expression, to Miss Ramsay's face. "Where did you get the lollipops and ginger-beer?" repeated thegoverness. "That's my own business, " said Orion. "I'm drefful sick; I want to goto 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 quitetired 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 aroundhim. "What's all this fuss?" here burst from Diana. "Why can't Orion go tobed? New teacher, you has a very queer way of managing sildrens. Whenwe was at home we went to bed when we had pains. I can't underlandyou, not one little bit. " "Come with me this moment, Orion, " said Miss Ramsay. "Diana, if youspeak a word except in the French tongue, you shall be kept in duringall the afternoon. " Orion and Miss Ramsay left the room, and the other children stared atone another. The three Dolman girls sat down to their books. Philipand Conrad thought it best to follow their example. Iris and Apollolooked wistfully from one to the other, but did not dare to speak; butDiana, walking boldly over to the nearest window, amused herself bytouching 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'tmean to hurt 'em. I wonder now if I could get away to the wood and gethold of my bow and arrow. Miss Wamsay must be shotted as well as theothers. 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 lessonbooks. At last the impulse to do something was more than she couldstand, and, rising from her seat, she edged her way to the door. Marycalled after her in French to know what she was going to do, but Iriswould make no reply. She reached the door, opened it, and then ran asfast as she could to the nursery. There she found Simpson putting Orion to bed. The little boy wascrying bitterly. "As soon as ever you lie down, master, you have got to drink off thismedicine, " 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 boyshave got to do what they are told. If you make any fuss I'll just holdyour nose and then you'll be obliged to open your mouth, and down themedicine will go. Come, come, sir, none of those tears. You have beena 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. Pleasebe 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 hishot little forehead against her cheek. "Simpson, " she said, turning to the nurse, "I know quite well how tomanage him. Won't you let me do it?" "I am sure, Miss Iris, I'd be only too thankful, " said the perplexedwoman. "There's Miss Ramsay and my mistress in no end of a state, andMaster Orion as obstinate as a boy can be. There's something gonewrong in this house since you four children arrived, and I reallydon't know how I am to stand it much longer. Not that I have anyspecial fault to find with you, Miss Iris, nor, indeed, for thatmatter, with Master Apollo; but it's the two younger ones. They arehandfuls, and no mistake. " "I like being a handfu' 'cept when I'm sick, " said Orion. "I don'twant to be a handfu' to-day. Please, Iris, don't mek me take thathorrid medicine. " "He must take it, Miss Iris; he won't be better till he do, " said thenurse, lifting up the glass as she spoke and stirring the contentswith a spoon. "Come, now, sir, be a brave boy. Just open your mouthand get it down. Then you'll drop asleep, and when you wake you willprobably 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--agrand, great giant, with your girdle and your sword, and this medicineis just an enemy that you have got to conquer. Here now; open yourmouth and get it down. Think of mother, Orion. She would like you totake 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 toherself. "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 claspingboth the little fellow's hands in one of hers. "She can see, she doesknow, 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 theroom as if he really saw someone; then he fixed his brown eyes on hissister's face, then he opened his mouth very wide. She instantly tookthe cup and held it to the little lips. Orion drained off the nauseousdraught and lay back, panting, on his pillow. "It was a big thing to conquer. I am a fine giant, " he said, when hereturned 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, whatare you doing here?" "I am very sorry, Aunt Jane, " replied Iris, "but I had to come. Hewould 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 hehas taken the medicine. I am glad of that; but all the same, Iris, youdid 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 MissRamsay. "And she certainly can manage her little brother, ma'am, " saidSimpson, speaking for the first time. "He would not touch his medicinefor me--no, not for anything I could do; but he drank it off when MissIris talked some gibberish, all about giants and belts and swords. " "'Tisn't gibberish, " said Orion, starting up from his pillow; "it'sthe truest thing in all the world. I am a giant, and I has got a beltand a sword. You can look up in the sky on starful nights and you cansee me. 'Tisn't gibberish. " "Well, lie down now, child, and go to sleep. I am afraid he is a bitfeverish, 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 edgeof the bed and gazing very sternly at the little fellow. "I intend towring 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 andginger-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 heis not accustomed to--not accustomed to----" Her little face turnedcrimson. "What do you mean, Iris? Do you object to the way I speak to thischild?" "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 managehim. 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. Isuppose I must give in on this occasion, or that child will be reallyill, and I by no means wish to have the expense of a doctor. MissRamsay, you and I had better leave that little pair together. You canremain 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 wasnot 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'lltell. 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 neverdo it again; he is very sorry indeed. I think he will try to be goodin future. " Mrs. Dolman was about to reply angrily, when a sudden memory came overher. She recalled words her brother had used. "I will give you the children, " he had said, "but you must try to begentle 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 inclinedto trust you. Only please understand that if ever there is anymisconduct in the future, I shall insist on knowing everything. " "I am greatly obliged to you, Aunt Jane. I could love you for being sokind. I will promise that Orion never does anything of that sortagain. " The children all filed out of the dining room. They had now, accordingto the rule of the day, to return to the schoolroom and lie down foran hour. This part of the daily programme was intensely distasteful tothe little Dolmans, and certainly the Delaneys did not appreciate it abit better, but at long last the wearisome lessons were over, and thelittle people were free. The moment they got into the garden Philip and Conrad might have beenseen 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 particularto say to them. " "I know what you mean, " answered Ann, turning crimson; "it was Philipand Conrad who got poor little Orion into mischief. Oh, Iris! it wasbrave of you, and it was brave of Orion not to tell. I wondered howyou had the courage to defy mamma. " "I did not defy her, " answered Iris. "But please, Ann, I must speak tothe boys. Send them to me at once. " "They are frightened, and are going to hide, " said Ann; "but I'll soonget them, " she answered. "I know their ways. " After a minute or two she returned, leading Philip and Conrad by thehands. "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 isbeautiful; and how brave she is! I wish I were like her. " "What do you want with us, Iris?" asked Philip, when he found himselfalone with his cousin. He raised defiant eyes, and put on an uglylittle scowl. "I want to tell you, Phil, " said Iris, "that I know everything. Poorlittle Orion would not confess, because you got him to promise not totell; but, of course, he told me the truth. Don't you think youbehaved very badly indeed?" "We don't want _you_ to lecture us, " said Conrad. "All right, " replied Iris with spirit. "But please remember that Ipromised Orion I would not tell, only so long as you make me a promisethat you will not tempt him again. If ever I hear that you have ledOrion 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, pleaseunderstand that I will not have Orion made miserable nor tempted to donaughty things. Aunt Jane thinks you are good boys, and she thinksDiana and Orion very bad little children; but neither Orion nor Dianawould do the sort of thing you both did yesterday. Neither of themwould think of _that_ sort of naughtiness. I call it mean. " Iris walked away with her head in the air. The boys gazed after herwith a queer sinking of heart. CHAPTER XIII. BIRCH ROD. Orion speedily recovered from his bad fit of indigestion, and mattersbegan to shake down a little in the schoolroom and nursery. No onemeant to be unkind to the little Delaneys; and although all thingswere changed for them, in some ways both Iris and Apollo were all thebetter for the strict and vigorous discipline they were nowundergoing. Iris really enjoyed her lessons, and when Apollo foundthat he had no chance of going to school, and of being with "fellows, "as he expressed it, until he had conquered certain difficult taskswhich Miss Ramsay set him, he began, for his own sake, to applyhimself to his lessons. He was a bright, clever little chap, and whenhe tried to understand his governess' method of teaching, he did hiswork fairly well. But Diana and Orion were much too young for thesomewhat severe transplantation which had taken place in their littlelives. Had Iris been allowed to be with them matters might not havegrown quite so bad, but she was much occupied with her lessons, andthe 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 ofinsubordinate and angry feelings. She was not at all by nature anunforgiving little child, but the want of petting and the severe lifewhich she was obliged to lead began to tell on her high spirits. Shebecame defiant, and was always looking out for an opportunity to venther wrath upon the people whom she termed her enemies. Had Iris onlyhad a chance of talking to the little girl, she would soon have got tothe bottom of the matter, and things might not have turned out as theydid; but Iris did not even sleep in the room with Diana, and in hersister's presence the little girl made a valiant effort to appear ashappy as usual. As a matter of fact, however, she and Orion spent mostof their playtime in perfecting their little scheme of revenge, and ona certain hot day matters came to a crisis. It had been much more trying than usual in the schoolroom; the sunseemed to beat in with fiercer rays; there were more flies on thewindow-panes, and the air seemed more charged with that terriblesleepiness which poor little Diana could not quite conquer. At lastshe dropped so sound asleep that Miss Ramsay took pity on her, andtold her she might go and have a run in the garden. "Go into the Filbert walk, " said the governess; "don't on any accountplay 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 cometo 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 fromthe schoolroom as though she were herself a little arrow shot from abow, she tumbled rather than walked downstairs, and with no hat overher thick, black curls, careered out wildly, shouting as she did so. The prospect of the walk and the look of the sunshine were making thelittle girl very happy, and she might not have thought of any specialrevenge had not Mrs. Dolman at that moment caught sight of her. Mrs. Dolman was coming out of the kitchen garden. She had on herinvariable mushroom hat, her face was much flushed with exercise, andshe 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 anhour; I hasn't any time; I won't come. " Mrs. Dolman began to run after her, which fact excited the little girlvery much. She instantly raced away, and the stout lady had to followher, 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 theend 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 almostspeechless. She flew after Diana, but would have had little or nochance of catching her, if the child had not suddenly tripped upagainst a stone and measured her full length on the ground. Beforeshe 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 mewhen 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 yourmother 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 willallow 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 Ishall punish you. " "I don't care, " said Diana, tossing her head. "I was sent out by MissWamsay 'cos I found the schoolroom too hot and I was sleepy. I can'tobey you and Miss Wamsay both at the same time, can I? I did not cometo you 'cos I don't like you. " "That's a pretty thing to say to your own aunt. Come, miss, I shallpunish you immediately. " "Oh, you's going to lock me up in the punishment woom. I don't careone bit for that, " said Diana. "I'll just lie on the floor and curl uplike a puppy and go to s'eep. I dweam beautiful when I s'eep. I dweamthat you is shotted, and that I is back again in the dear old gardenat home with all the pets; and that Rub-a-Dub is alive again. I dweamthat you is shotted down dead, and you can do no more harm, and----" But Diana could not proceed any further. Mrs. Dolman, in her wildindignation, had lifted her in her arms, clapped her hand over hermouth, and carried her bodily into the study, where Mr. Dolman waspreparing his sermon. "William, " said his wife, "I am really very sorry to disturb you, butI must ask you to come to my assistance. " "In what way, Jane?" he said. He pushed his spectacles, as hisinvariable habit was, high up on the middle of his forehead, andlooked 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?" hesaid. "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 toa crisis, and if you don't support your wife on this occasion, Ireally 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 cantell you--a monster of ingratitude, wickedness, and rudeness, and Idon'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 ofsuch a very bad little girl. " "I aren't bad, " cried Diana. "If you say any more, naughty woman, I'llslap '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 UncleDolman. "I like you, old man, " she said; "you isn't half a bad sort. I'll staywith you. P'ease, Aunt Jane, punish me by letting me stay with UncleWilliam. I'll just sit on the floor curled up, and maybe I'll dwopas'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, sweetpets. I'll dweam, p'waps, that we is having funerals in the garden andwe is awfu' happy, and you is shotted down dead. Let me stay withUncle 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 cameacross such a terribly bad little girl. William, I must insist hereand now on your chastising her. " "In what way?" said Mr. Dolman. "I am very busy, my dear Jane, over mysermon. Could it not be postponed, or could not you, my dear?" "No, William, I could not, for the dark room is not bad enough forthis 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 knowI don't approve of corporal punishment, my dear. " "No more do I, except in extreme cases, but this is one. William, Iinsist 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, andthen at the manuscript which lay on his desk. He always hated writinghis sermons, and, truth to tell, did not write at all good ones; buton this special morning his ideas seemed to come a little more rapidlythan usual--now, of course, he had lost every thought, and the sermonwas ruined. Besides, he was a kind-hearted man. He thought Diana avery handsome little fury, and was rather amused with her thanotherwise. Had she been left alone with him, he would not have takenthe 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 totalk in this very silly manner. " But alas! there was little doubt that Uncle William was very muchafraid of Aunt Jane, and when Aunt Jane dared him to produce the birchrod, there was nothing whatever for it but to comply. He rose andwalked slowly and very unwillingly across the room. He unlocked thedoor of a big cupboard in the wall, and, poking in his large, soft, flabby hand, presently produced what looked in Diana's eyes a veryterrible instrument. It was a rod, clean, slender, and with, as sheafterwards expressed it, _temper_ all over it. It flashed through herlittle mind by and by that, if she could really secure this rod, itmight make a better bow even than the one which she and Apollo hadhidden in the wood, but she had little time to think of any future usefor the birch rod at this awful moment. The terrible instrument inUncle William's flabby hand was carried across the room. When she sawit approaching her vicinity she uttered a piercing shriek and hidherself under the table. "Come, come; none of this nonsense!" said Mrs. Dolman. "Punished youshall be. You must be made to understand that you are to respect yourelders. Now, then, William, fetch that child out. " "Diana, my dear, you are a very naughty little girl; come here, " saidMr. Dolman. Diana would not have minded in the least defying Aunt Jane, but therewas something in Uncle William's slow tones, particularly in a sort ofregret which seemed to tremble in his voice, and which Diana feltwithout understanding, which forced her to obey. She scrambled slowlyout, her hair tumbled over her forehead, her lower lip drooping. "Suppose I have a little talk with her, Jane; suppose she says she issorry and never does it again, " said Mr. Dolman. "Oh, yes, yes, Uncle William!" said Diana, really terrified for thefirst 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 heraunt's face. "I's been a bad girl, but I's sossy; it's all wight, Isay. 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 littleorphan, you know. " "Yes, " said Diana eagerly, "I's a poor orphan, only a baby, five yearsold, awfu' young, and I's sossy, and it's all wight now. Go 'way, AuntJane; go 'way, naughty Aunt Jane; I's sossy. " "William, " said Mrs. Dolman, "if you refuse to give that child thenecessary punishment which is to make her a Christian character, Ishall 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. Downwent the rod on the fat little form--shriek after shriek utteredDiana. 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 thefloor. "It's a horrid business, " he said. "I hate corporal punishment. Wehave 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 ofexcitement and heat which she had been previously in, proved too muchfor the defiant little spirit, and Diana had really fainted. Mrs. Dolman was frightened now, and rushed for cold water. She bathedthe child's forehead, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing hercoming to again. There was not a word of defiance from Diana now, and not a singleutterance of reproach, but when she looked at Mrs. Dolman there was anexpression in her black eyes from which this lady absolutely recoiled. "Uncle William, I's hurted awfu', " whispered Diana. "Let me lie inyour arms, p'ease, Uncle William. " And so she did for the rest of the morning, and the sermon never gotwritten. CHAPTER XIV. DIANA'S REVENGE. Diana had quite a nice time for the rest of the morning. Uncle Williamhad 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 flabbycheek. "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 forwriting sermons. " "And I don't care for learning lessons. You didn't mean to sting me sobad with that howid wod, did you, Uncle William?" Mr. Dolman made no reply with his lips, for he did not like to defyhis wife's authority, but Diana read his thoughts in his rather dullblue eyes. "You is a kind old man, " she said; "that is, when you isn't tempted bythat naughty, howid woman. You is a kind old man by yourself, and youshan'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 wholeholiday 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. "Shallwe go out into the garding--what you say?" "Would you like to?" he asked. "Yes, more particular in fruit garding. We can eat cherries andstrawberries, and pelt each other. What you say?" Mr. Dolman looked out of the open window. He was pretty certain thathis wife by this time was absent in the village. The clock on themantelpiece pointed to half-past eleven; the early dinner would not beready until one o'clock. It would be cool and pleasant in the fruitgarden, 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 betold. " 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 saidso. 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 thekings and queens of England; don't you, Uncle William?" "Not quite all, Diana. Now, I'll just take you through the garden, forI think a little fresh air will do you good. " "And if I pop cherries into your mouf it 'll do you good, " answeredDiana. "Oh, we'll have a lovely time!" So they did, and Mr. Dolman devoutly hoped that there was no one thereto see. For Diana rapidly recovered her spirits, and picked cherriesin quantities and pelted her uncle; and then she ran races and incitedhim to follow her, and she picked strawberries, heaps and heaps, andgot him to sit down on a little bench near the strawberry beds, andpopped the delicious ripe berries into his mouth; and although he hadnever played before in such a fashion with any little girl, he quiteenjoyed it, and presently entered the house with his lips suspiciouslyred, and a confession deep down in his heart that he had spent quite apleasant 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 yoursermon. " "Not quite, my dear, " he answered. "Not kite, my dear, " echoed Diana. Mr. Dolman gave her a half-terrified glance, but she was stanchenough, and had not the least idea of betraying the happy morning theyhad spent together. Towards the end of the meal, her clear little voice might have beenheard 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 herhot walk to the village that morning. She had not at all mindedpunishing her, but when she saw her lying white and unconscious in herarms, she had certainly gone through a terrible moment, and had, perhaps, in the whole course of her life, never felt so thankful aswhen the black eyes opened wide, and the little voice sounded onceagain. The look, too, that Diana had given her on this occasion shecould not quite efface from her recollection. On the whole, therefore, she felt inclined to be gentle to the little girl, and when shepleaded 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 youisn't half a bad sort of old man. And now, p'ease, I want Orion tohave a holiday too. " "Oh, that's another matter!" interrupted Miss Ramsay. "Orion is inperfect 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, "andit's 'portant my being happy; isn't it, Uncle William? P'ease, UncleWilliam, 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. "Iwash 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 closethis scene as quickly as possible. Orion uttered a shout of rapture, Diana rushed up to him, clutched himround 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, "youmust cool down and not 'cite yourself too much. We has a ter'ble lotof work to do. I has got my holiday through awfu' suff'in'. I wasbeated and killed, and I has come fresh to life again. Course I's in awage, and I's got a holiday for you and for me 'cos we must do ourwork. 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 asigh of mingled pleasure and alarm ran off to do her bidding. Hereturned in less than a minute with his large sailor hat stuck on theback of his head, and a white sun-bonnet for Diana. Diana's sun-bonnethad a black bow at the back and black strings. "Howid, hot old thing, " she said, "I won't wear it. Here, let's hideit; 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 yourarm, Di; and then, if they are seen coming, why, you can pop it onyour head. " "Well, p'w'aps so, " answered Diana. "We has an awfu' lot to do thisafternoon, Orion, 'cos Aunt Jane has got to be shotted, and I'sthinking 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 bedone. What would be the good if they wasn't shotted dead? Yes, they'llbe shotted, and they'll have a public funeral, and after that we'llhave a lovely time. Uncle William isn't half bad, and 'stead of doinghowid lessons every morning we'll just go into the garding and eatstwawberries and cherries, and he'll play with us. He'll love to, forhe don't like writing sermins a bit, and we'll blindfold him and he'llwun after us. He's k'ite a nice old man, and if Aunt Jane and MissWamsay is shotted--why, we'll have a jolly time. Now, let's wun andfetch 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'srather a bother, and I can run my sword into her, if you really wishit, Diana. " "I'll think about it, " answered Diana. "I don't want to have threepersons deaded wight off; it might be sort of troublesome. I'll thinkwhat's best to be done with Simpson. Now, let's start at once. " Mrs. Dolman was under the supposition that the children had gone toplay in the back garden. The greater part of that somewhat neglecteddomain was laid out in shrubbery, and there were shady trees andswings and see-saws, and other sources of amusement for the littleDolmans during their brief hours of play. Miss Ramsay also thoughtthat Diana and Orion would go to the shrubbery. She went up, therefore, to the schoolroom quite contented. Mr. Dolman retired tohis study, where he went to sleep, and Mrs. Dolman ordered the ponychaise, 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 becovered by his neatly written sermon lay in virgin purity before him. In his sleep he dreamt of little Diana, and awoke presently with aqueer sense of uneasiness with regard to her. But he was by nature avery lazy man, and it did not occur to him to inquire as to herpresent 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 todrive that sort of child; she must be led, and led gently. 'Pon myword, I did have an entertaining morning with the little mite, andwhat a lot of strawberries she made me eat! I wonder Jane did notremark at dinner how poor my appetite was--I was dreadfully afraid shewould 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 thelong avenue. The little pair soon reached the lodge gates. Diana andher brother went out through the postern door which was at the side, and the next moment found themselves on the highroad. This road led inthe direction of the shady woods where Apollo had hidden the bow andarrows a few weeks ago. It was a pretty road, a couple of miles inlength, and well shaded by trees, a kind of outgrowth of the forestitself. As she was not likely to meet any of the Dolman family on theroad, Diana did not wear her sun-bonnet, but kept it hanging on herarm. "It is nice to be out, " she said, as she tripped along. "I lovehot sun; I love twees; I love blue sky; I love dust. " "I don't, " replied Orion; "this road is horrid dusty, and it gets intomy shoes. I have only my house shoes on, you know, Diana. " "Oh, never mind!" answered Diana. "If you is a giant, you isn't goingto g'umble. What is the use of g'umbling? You be all wight soon. We'llbe in the wood soon, and we'll have got the bow and arrows, and thenwe'll have to pwactice shooting. Oh, I say, there's a turnstile and apath, and I believe the path leads stwaight to the wood. Let's leavethe woad and go to the wood that way. " "All right, " replied Orion. He always did say "all right" to everysingle thing Diana asked him to do. The children now found themselves in a shady lane, between highhedgerows. It was a pretty lane, only very sultry at this time of day;but Diana, seeing butterflies flying about, began to give chase tothem. She also stopped many times to pick flowers. Orion shouted as heran, and neither of the little pair minded, for a time at least, thefact that the sun was pouring on their heads, and that their smallfaces were getting redder and redder. "I's stweaming down with hotness, " said Diana, at last. "I must stopa bit or I'll melt away. I don't want to melt till I has shotted myenemies. Is you stweaming with hotness, Orion?" "Yes, " said Orion. They stood still, took out their handkerchiefs, mopped their facesvigorously, and then continued their walk. The time seemed to drag allof a sudden; they were both very tired. How glad they were when theyfinally reached the friendly shelter of the Super-Ashton woods. Hereit was deliciously cool, and here Diana, thoroughly exhausted, threwherself on her face and hands, and, before Orion could say a word, haddropped off into sound sleep. He thought she looked very comfortable, and it occurred to him that he could not do better than follow herexample. Accordingly, he also stretched himself on the ground, and, with his head resting on one of Diana's fat little legs, also visitedthe land of dreams. For two hours the children slept. When they awokeat last they found that the sun was no longer high in the heavens; itwas veering rapidly towards the west, and was sending slanting andvery beautiful rays of light through the wood. Diana rubbed her eyesand 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 comehere 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 mostsolemn, 'portant business. I is Diana--the gweat Diana what livedyears and years ago--and you is Orion. I is the gweatest huntwess inall 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 actuallydiscover the crooked and badly made bow and the blunt arrow. "Here they is, the darlin's!" cried Diana. "My own bow, my ownarrow--how I loves 'em! Now, Orion, I is going to shoot you--forpwactice, you know, and then you shall shoot me for pwactice too. Youstand up there against the twee, and I'll make good shots. You don'tmind 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 Wamsaywho is to be shotted dead; but you'll have to be shotted, 'cos I mustpwactice how to do it. " "But couldn't you practice against the tree without me standingthere?" said Orion, who had no fancy to have even this very bluntarrow directed at his face. CHAPTER XV. MOTHER RODESIA. After some very slight persuasion Diana induced Orion to put his backup against an oak tree and to allow her to shoot at him. He quicklydiscovered 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 thebirds, and one little baby rabbit ran quite away, and some squirrelslooked down at the children through the thick trees; but Orion hadvery little chance of getting hurt. "It's awfu' difficult, " said Diana, whose face grew redder and redderwith her efforts. "If it don't shoot pwoper, Aunt Jane won't getshotted to-night. What is to be done? Suppose you was to twy for abit, Orion?" Orion was only too anxious to accede to this proposition. He took thebow and arrow and made valiant efforts, but in the course of hisendeavors to shoot properly, the badly made bow suddenly snapped intwo, and Diana, in her discomfiture, and the dashing to the ground ofher hopes, burst into tears. "You is bad boy, " she cried. "See what you's done. Back we goes toslav'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'syou that's a horrid little girl. " "Come, children; what's all this noise about?" said a voice in theirears. They turned abruptly, forgetting on the instant their own cause ofquarrel, and saw a tall, swarthy-looking woman coming towards them. Bythis time it was beginning to get dark in the wood, but they could seethe figure of the woman quite distinctly. She came close to them, andthen, putting her arms akimbo, surveyed them both with a certain queerexpression on her face. "Well, my little dears, " she said, "and what may you two be doing inthis part of the wood?" "We is pweparing to have our enemies shotted, " answered Diana, in acalm, but sturdy, voice. "What's your name, gweat big woman?" "Mother Rodesia Lee, " replied the woman, "and I'm fond of littlechildren. 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 sortof mother to all little strangers who get into the woods withoutleave. " 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 asblack. "We has not come without leave, " she said; "you is naughty to talkthat way. We has got a whole holiday to-day from our Uncle William. Hedidn't say nothing 'bout not going into the woods, and we has beenhere 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 weis 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 youtwo 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 betaken unawares. "Would it be stwawberries and k'eam, or would it becake and milk?" "Strawberries and cream, and milk and cake, plenty and plenty, " saidthe 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 bighole. " "I know, " said the woman, in a very sympathetic voice. "I have had itmyself 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 oursupper. " "You may be sure I won't give it, " said the woman, "unless both youlittle 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 doesthat at home--often and often. All the little kids is desp'ate fond ofme. 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 bedownright cruel. " "I was beated to-day, " said Diana; "it was an enemy did it, and I'mgoing to have her shotted. " "Oh, I wouldn't do that!" said the woman. "You might be hanged up forthat. " "What's being hanged up?" asked Diana. "It's something very bad--I need not tell you now; but there are lawsin this country, and if you shoot your enemies you are hanged up forit. You are not allowed to do those sort of things in this country. " "Yes, I are, " answered Diana, "'cos I are the gweat Diana. Youunderland, don't you?" "I don't know that I do; but, anyhow, I have no time to stand talkingnow. Come along, and you can tell me afterwards. I have got such anice supper--plenty of strawberries and cream, plenty of milk andcake. " "Oh, my tumtum, " said Orion, pressing his hand to that part of hislittle 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, " saidMother 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 becamehesitating. "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 nota 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 Ican't leave Apollo. We would like some supper 'cos we is hung'y, andit's past our tea hour; but then we must go stwaight home. " "All right, my little love; everything can be managed to yoursatisfaction. My son has got a pony and cart, and he'll drive you overto the Rectory in a twinkling, after your appetites are satisfied. Ican't abear to see little children real hungry. You come along with methis minute or the supper will be eat up. " Diana hesitated no longer. She carried her broken bow on one arm, andshe slung her arrow, by a string, round her neck; then, taking one ofMother Rodesia's large brown hands, and Orion taking the other, thetwo children trotted deeper into the dark wood. They all three walkedfor over a mile, and the wood seemed to get darker and denser, and thechildren's little feet more and more tired. Orion also began tocomplain that the hole inside him was getting bigger and bigger; butMother Rodesia, now that she had got them to go with her, said veryfew words, and did not take the least notice of their complaints. Atlast, when they suddenly felt that they could not go another step, sogreat was their fatigue, they came out on an open clearing in thewood, in the center of which a great big tent was pitched. Severalsmaller 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 oneanother. Some dogs also were with the children, and an old woman, agood deal browner than Mother Rodesia, was sitting at the door of thebig tent. As soon as ever the children saw the little strangers, they scrambledto their feet with a cry, and instantly surrounded Mother Rodesia andOrion 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 toher?" When Mother Rodesia said this the old woman at the door of theprincipal tent rose slowly and came to meet them. "Well, Rodesia, " she said, "and so you has found these littlestrangers in the wood? What purty little dears!" "Yes, I have found them, " said Mother Rodesia, "and I have broughtthem home to supper. After supper we are to send them home. They hailfrom the Rectory. Is Jack anywhere about?" "I saw him not half an hour back, " said the old woman; "he had justbrought in a fat hare, and I popped it into the pot for supper. Youcan smell it from here, little master, " she said, stooping suddenlydown and letting her brown, wrinkled, aged face come within an inch ortwo of Orion's. He started back, frightened. He had never seen anyoneso old nor so ugly before. Even the thought of the strawberries andcream, and the milk and cake, could not compensate for the look onMother Bridget's face. Diana, however, was not easily alarmed. "The stuff in the pot smells vedy good, " she said, sniffing. "I couldshoot 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'tbe 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 isawfu' ugly. She's uglier than Aunt Jane, what I _used_ to think wasthe 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 withadmiration 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 matterthe least bit in the world to me. And how old may you be, my littlelove?" "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 somebeautiful hare soup. " "I don't want hare soup, " answered Diana; "I want what that womanpwomised--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 nomilk, nor no cake--we are very poor folks here, missy. A little ladymust be content with what she can get, unless, my dear, you would liketo pay 'andsome for it. " "I has nothing to pay with, " answered Diana. "I would, if I had themoney, but I hasn't got none. I's sossy, " she continued, looking fullat Mother Rodesia as she spoke, "that you big, big woman told suchawfu' 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 uptoo close, 'cos I can't abear dirty peoples. I is the gweatest shotin all the world, and Orion, he's a giant. " Two or three men had approached at that moment, and they all began tolaugh heartily when poor little pale Orion was called a giant. "You can see him in the sky sometimes on starful nights, " continuedDiana, "and he has got a belt and a sword. " "Well, to be sure, poor little thing, " said Mother Rodesia, "she mustbe a bit off her head, but she's a fine little spirited thing for allthat. I think she would just about do. You come along here for aminute, Jack, and let me talk to you. " The man called Jack moved a few steps away, and Mother Rodesiafollowed him. They began to talk together in low and earnest voices. At first the man shook his head as he listened to Mother Rodesia, butby degrees he began to agree with some suggestion she was making, andfinally he nodded emphatically, and at last was heard to say: "It shall be done. " Meanwhile Diana, with one arm clasped protectingly round Orion'swaist, was partaking of the soup which old Mother Bridget had ladledinto a little bowl. Orion was provided with a similar bowl of the veryexcellent liquid. The soup contained meat and vegetables, pieces ofbread and quantities of good gravy, and, as Diana and Orion were veryhungry indeed, they ate up their portions, while the gypsy childrenclustered round them, coming closer and closer each minute. Diana'seyes, however, were as black as theirs, and her manner twice asspirited. She would not allow them to approach too close. "You had best not take lib'ties, " she said. "I is a gweat lady; I isDiana, the biggest shot in all the world. " "Oh, lawk! hark to her, " cried one of the boys. "I wonder if you couldshoot me, little miss?" "Shoot you, boy?" cried Diana. "That I could. You would be shotteddown dead if I was to take up my bow and use my arrow. " At last the children had finished the contents of their bowls, androse solemnly to their feet. "Now, " said Diana, going up to Mother Bridget, "I are vedy obliged toyou; 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 youdidn'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 ashe can. " "Yes, indeed, my little dear, " said Mother Bridget; "there aint onemoment to be lost. You just come inside the tent, though, first for aminute. " "I don't want to go inside that dirty tent, " said Diana; "I don't likedirt. You had best not twy to take lib'ties. I is Diana, and this isOrion, 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 canmanage better than that. Just you help lift 'em into the cart; it's adark night, and there'll be no stars, and we can get off as faras----" Here she dropped her voice, and Diana could not hear the nextwords. "I'm going with them, " she continued, "and Jack will drive. They areexactly the kind of children Ben wants. Now then, little missy, jumpin. 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, poorlittle boy, case you is fwightened. Diana never was fwightened; thatisn't her. " Orion scrambled also into the cart, and the two children huddled upclose together. Mother Rodesia got in with them, and sat down at theopposite side, with her knees huddled up close to her chin. The mancalled Jack mounted the driver's seat, whacked the pony with two orthree hard touches of his whip and away they bounded. The night was very dark, and the cart rattled roughly, and jolted andbanged the children about, but Orion felt comforted and contentedafter his good supper, and Diana's fat little arm felt warm round hisneck, and soon his head rested on her shoulder and he was soundasleep. Not so little Diana. She sat wide awake and gazed hard at thewoman, whose dark eyes were seen to flash now and then as the partyjolted over the roads. "Tell him to go k'icker, " said Diana. "I must get home afore UncleWilliam goes to bed. Aunt Jane might beat me again, and I don't wantto 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 overthe 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 ussupper and soon we'll be home; and Uncle William won't be in bed, andhe won't let c'uel Aunt Jane beat me. It's all wight; I may just aswell go to s'eep, 'cos I is drefful s'eepy, and it's late. I wonder ifthe 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 soonthe big dark eyes were shut, and she was happy in the land of dreams. When this happened, Mother Rodesia softly and stealthily changed herposition. She stretched out her hand and touched Jack on his arm. Thisseemed to have been an arranged signal, for he drew up the pony atonce. They were still under the shelter of the great woods which extendedfor 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 beseen by Ben, for he's safe to pawn 'em, and if he pawns 'em the policemay get 'em, and then the children may be traced, and we may get intohot water. " "But, mother, " said Jack, "do you dare to disturb them now when theyare asleep? That young 'un with the black eyes is such a fury; seemedto me as if she was never goin' off. " "She's all right now, " said Mother Rodesia. "She's just dead tired. Ofcourse, if I had had my way, I'd have put a little of that syrup intotheir soup--Mother Winslow's Syrup--but Mother Bridget wouldn't haveit. She took quite a fancy to the little gal, and all on account ofher firing up and calling her names. " Jack laughed. "I never seed sech a little 'un, " he said, "sech a sparky littlepiece. Ben's in rare luck. I'd like to keep her for a sort of littlesister of my own--she'd amuse me fine. " "Well, well, you aint a-goin' to have her, " said Mother Rodesia. "I'mgoin' to ask thirty shillin's for her and thirty shillin's for theboy. 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 tellhim, won't you, mother, to be good to the children. I wouldn't like tothink that little 'un was treated cruel, and her sperit broke--she hasgot a fine sperit, bless her; I wouldn't like it to be broke. I don'tcare for the little boy. There's nothing in 'im. " "Well, stop talking now, " said Mother Rodesia. "They must be missed atthe Rectory by this time, and they'll be sendin' people out to lookfor 'em. It's a rare stroke of luck that nobody knows that we arecamping in the Fairy Dell, for if they did they would be sure to comestraight to us, knowin' that poor gypsies is always _supposed_ tokidnap children. Now, Jack, you just hold the pony as still as youcan, and I'll slip the clothes off the pair of 'em. " Little Diana, in her deep sleep, was not at all disturbed when stouthands lifted her away from Orion, and when she lay stretched out flaton a large lap. One by one her clothes were untied and slipped off herpretty little body, and some very ugly, sack-like garments substitutedin their place. Diana had only a dim feeling in her dreams that motherwas back again, and was undressing her, and that she was very glad toget into bed. And when the same process of undressing took place onlittle Orion, he was still sounder asleep and still more indifferentto the fact that he was turned sometimes over on his face, andsometimes on his back, and that his pretty, dainty clothes, which hisown mother had bought for him, were removed, never to be worn by himagain. "Now, then, " said Mother Rodesia, when she had laid the two childrenback 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 thatnow, for they are sure to howl a good bit, and if folks are near, theywill 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 forthe present they must stay under ground. See, I'll wrap 'em up in thisgood piece of stout brown paper, and then perhaps they won't get muchspoiled. " Jack took the little bundle (there were the soft, pretty socks, theneat little shoes, even the ribbon with which Diana's hair was tied), and twisted them all up into a bundle. Then his mother wrapped thebundle 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 cartproceeded at a rapid rate. They were now on the highroad, and going inthe direction of a large town. The town was called Maplehurst. It wasfifteen miles away from the Rectory of Super-Ashton. Little Diana slept on and on, and the sun was beginning to send faintrays 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, " saidMother Rodesia. "Don't you stir, my love; you are just as good as youwas in your little bed. See, let me lay this rug over you. " She threw a piece of heavy tarpaulin, lined with cloth, over the childas 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 onthe road; but if you like to go to sleep again, you'll be there whennext you wake. " "I isn't s'eepy any longer, " said Diana, sitting bolt upright in thecart. "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 thepony got that lame we couldn't stir hand nor foot, so I thought itbest to put a little nightdress on you. " "But what a funny one, " said Diana, gazing with curious admiration atthe stout, sack-like garment. "It's the best poor Mother Rodesia has, my dear. I'm awful poor, youknow. " "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, andthen they can't get nice clothes like you, little missy. You are avery rich little gal; aint you, little dear?" "My faver's awfu' rich, " said Diana. "We used to live in a mostbeaut'ful house, and we had a beaut'ful garding to play in. We hadanimals there--lots and lots. Woman, is you fond of animals--mices andthat sort?" "Love--I just adores 'em. " "Then you _is_ a nice sort, " answered Diana. She left her place byOrion 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 offinto a beautiful sleep, and I'll keep you nice and warm, for hot asthe 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 againslumbering peacefully. When little Diana next opened her eyes all was completely changed. Shewas no longer in the funny cart with the straw. Her nightdress wasstill on her, it is true, and there were neither shoes nor stockingson her bare feet; but she and Orion found themselves in a dirty roomwith a nasty smell. Both children looked at one another, and both feltcold and frightened. The broad daylight was lighting up the room, andDiana could perceive that there was scarcely any furniture in it. Herbow was also gone, and her arrow no longer hung round her neck. Sheclutched a firm hold of Orion's hand. "Don't you be afeared, Orion, " she said. "Don't you forget you is abig 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 agiant, and I'm awfu' frightened. " "Where can us be?" said Diana. "What a keer room! But there's one goodcomfort; there isn't no aunts anywheres 'bout. " "I can't remember nothing, " said Orion. "Why aren't we in bed? It'stoo 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 hasgot to be bwave. Don't you forget, Orion, that mother gived you yourname, and that you is a giant, whether you likes it or not. Don't youforget that, and I won't forget that I is Diana, and that mother givedme 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 befwightened. Let's sit close together, and let's think. " "Why can't we open that door and go out?" said Orion. "Why should westay 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 andopen it, and let's run back to Rectory. I'd rather have Aunt Jane andMiss Ramsay than this horrid room--and oh, Diana! my tumtum has got abig hole in it again. " "And mine has too, " answered Diana. "I could eat a whole loaf, that Icould. " "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 nearyou, 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 gotsomething to say to you. " "P'ease, where's Wectory?" asked Diana. "You are not going there just for the present, my dear. This man, Benis his name--you told me last night that you were fond of uncles--youcan call 'im Uncle Ben; he's very kind and very, very fond ofchildren. " "Oh, yes! I'm very fond of children, " said the man. He spoke in agruff voice which seemed to come right from the bottom of his chest. "And as you don't like aunts, " continued Mother Rodesia, "I havebrought an uncle. You can call 'im Uncle Ben; and if you do just whathe says, why, you'll be as happy as the day is long. " "Look here, " said the man; "you stop your talk, Rodesia. Before Imakes myself an uncle to these kids I must see what sort they are. Youstand 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 withyou. " "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 andstrode back to Orion. "'Member you is a giant, " she said, in a whisper; "and giants never isfwightened. " 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 apenny more. " Diana stared very hard indeed when these words were uttered. She hadnot the faintest idea what a "pund apiece" meant. Mother Rodesiaseemed 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 theroom, 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 goldsov. For each of 'em, and that's as much as I can manage. They willtake a sight of training, and then there's the risk. " "Very well, " said Mother Rodesia, "I suppose I had best do it; onlythey are worth more. There's a fortune in that little gal, andwhenever you are tired of her, why, there's a rich father to fall backon. 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 thatchild, Ben Holt, you might remember poor Rodesia Lee. " The man laughed and patted Mother Rodesia on her shoulder. Then thepair 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 inkeeping 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 againunlocked, and a woman with a thin, pale face, and somewhat frightenedmanner, appeared. She carried a tray in her hand, which contained twolittle bowls of porridge, and a small jug of milk. "So you are the twoyoung 'uns, " she said. "Well, you had best be quick and eat up yourbreakfast. Uncle Ben is going to have a rehearsal, and he wants you tosee 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 realsorry 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 Ihave brought you porridge and milk; but children as young as you arecan't eat coarse food. Sup up your porridge, my dears. " "Thank you very much indeed, Aunt Sawah, " said Diana, slipping downfrom her seat close to Orion on the bench, and preparing to attack herbreakfast. "P'w'aps, " she continued, as she put great mouthfuls ofporridge into her mouth, "when we has finished this nice bekfus you'lltake us back to Wectory? You see, you isn't our aunt weally, not by nomanner of wights, and Uncle Ben isn't our uncle, and so we ought notto stay here; and if we go back to Wectory, why, Uncle William, what'sour weal uncle, p'w'aps he would pay you money, if it's money youwants. " "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 takeyou back to no Rectory. You have just got to stay here and to watchUncle Ben when he's going through his rehearsal, and then thisafternoon we are going on a very long journey, and you are coming withus--and oh, I forgot to say that, when you have finished yourbreakfast, 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 anotherpart of the country I'll wash the ugly stuff off again, and you'lllook as fair and pretty as you do now. It won't make much differenceafter 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 bekind to you for her pretty sake, my little dear. Now, eat yourbreakfast, and be quick, the pair of you. " "Has your little girl what was like me got deaded?" asked Diana, in avery thoughtful and earnest voice. "She is dead, my dear. Yes, yes, she is dead, " replied the woman. "Eatup your breakfast now; I have no time to answer questions. " Orion did not need a second bidding; he had already plunged his spooninto the porridge, and soon his little bowl was empty, and also thejug of milk. Diana also finished her breakfast, but more thoughtfully. She was a wonderfully wise little girl for her tender years, and atthe present moment she was dreadfully puzzled to know what to do. Shewas quite shrewd enough to guess that Mother Rodesia was a bad sort ofwoman, and that she, Diana, had done wrong ever to trust herself toher. Uncle Ben, too, in spite of her brave words, terrified her moreor less. All things considered, therefore, she would not have been atall sorry to find herself back again at the Rectory, with Miss Ramsayto teach her, and Aunt Jane hovering in the background. "Isn't itfunny, we has got our nightdwesses on?" she said suddenly. "Woman, it's not pwoper to have our bekfus in our nightdwesses; and these aresuch keer nightdwesses, not at all what they ought to be. Our motherwould not like us to be dwessed in this sort of style. Can you get ourday 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 havegot 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 musthave a b'ack bow, p'ease, woman, 'cos our mother has gone away to theangels, you underland; and when mothers go to the angels little girlswear 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 ourlittle mother now. You underland what I mean; doesn't you, Orion?" The only answer Orion made was to fling himself flat down on the floorand begin to howl with all his might. "You had best not do that, young sir, " said Aunt Sarah, "for if UncleBen hears he'll be awful angry. He is a terrible man when he'sangered. It's only right I should tell you the solemn truth, you poorlittle kids. " "We isn't kids; we is sildrens, " said Diana. "Well, you poor little children, then. Now, young master, if you'lltake my advice, you'll do exactly what I tell you. I'm going to be afriend to you and to your little sister. I'll give you, by hook or bycrook, the very best food I can get, and the prettiest dresses towear, and I'll see that my husband, Ben Holt, aint rough to you, andI'll see, also, that Molly and Kitty and Susan, the circus girls, arekind to you, and that Tom, the clown, behaves as he ought; but I cando nothing if you won't obey me. And if you begin by angering UncleBen, why, it'll be all up with you, my little dears. " "I don't know what you mean by all up, " answered Diana, her eyessparkling brightly; "and what's more, I don't care. But I'd like toknow if you has a weal live clown about, 'cos I like clowns and I lovepant'mimes. I went to a pant'mime 'fore mother was took to theangels. " "Our show is something like a pantomime, and yet it's different, "replied Aunt Sarah. "Now then, missy, stop talking, for we has no timeto 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 littlebrowner 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 prettythings. You, little missy, shall wear some of my own child'sclothes--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 herpretty little dress on you, that I wouldn't. " Orion stepped back in some alarm when he saw the woman stirringsomething 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 youdreadful, " said the woman. "Now, missy, tell your little brother to beguided by me. If he don't do what I tell 'im he'll suffer, and I won'tbe able to help either of you. " "Don't be silly, Orion, " said Diana. "What do a little bwown stuffmatter? And Aunt Sawah's wather a nice sort of woman. I'll do what youwish, Aunt Sawah. " She came up as she spoke, pushed her black, tangledhair away from her charming little face, and allowed Aunt Sarah tocover it with the walnut juice. "It's sort of sticky, and it don'tsmell nice, " said the little girl; "but I spects you can't help it. Ispects you is kind about your heart; isn't you?" "Yes, my little dear; I try to be, " said the woman. "Now, call yourbrother 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 amatter of course. The walnut dye was not pleasant; he felt quitesticky and uncomfortable, but he allowed it to cover his little faceand his white neck and hands. The dye dried very quickly, and the children looked as like twogypsies 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 prettyspangled suit of knickerbockers, which she put on Orion, and whichquite enchanted him. "If you are a good boy, " she continued, "you won't dislike the lifewith 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 allkinds 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 onyour dress. " Diana was only too willing to be attired in a flimsy skirt of whitetarlatan, which stuck out from her little figure; she also wore wingson her shoulders, and her black hair was rendered gay with bows ofcrimson ribbon. She felt quite excited and pleased with herself. "I spects I look awfu' pwetty, " she said. "I'd like to see my own selfin a looking-glass. Has you got a looking-glass in your pocket, AuntSawah?" "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 stuffon my face. " "Never mind, dear; bear it for the present. When we get down to thesouthwest of England it shall all be taken off; but up here Uncle Benthinks 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 veryintently, burst into a clear, childish laugh. "Do you know you _is_ a humbug?" she said. "You know perfect well whyyou is using that. You want to hide us, that's why. What a silly oldAunt Sawah you is!" Before Aunt Sarah could make a suitable reply, the loud voice of UncleBen was heard in the distance. "Come, Sarah, " he called, "bring those kids along. I can't be keptwaiting 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 aregoing soon to be part of a circus. Uncle Ben owns one; it's a sort oftraveling circus. He takes it about with him from one part of thecountry to another. You'll be part of the circus in the future, littlemiss. " "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 nicetime 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 beright, and, for my part, I'll see you want for nothing. " "I do believe, " said Diana, her eyes sparkling; she turned as shespoke and clasped one of Orion's hands--"I do weally b'lieve this isbetter nor aunt's. Do come 'long, Orion; I always did love circuses. " Aunt Sarah led the children down a long, narrow passage, and thenacross an open court, until presently they found themselves inside theentrance of a huge circular tent. Here seats were arranged for a crowdof people, all of which were, of course, empty at present; but thewhole of the center of the tent was occupied by a wide arena coveredwith sand. In the middle of this space stood Uncle Ben. He had a bigwhip in his hand, and looked very fierce and terrible. "There you are at last, Sarah!" he called out. "Oh, and there are thekids!" 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 topof 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'llhave to take your part in the show in a week from now. We'll let herride round the arena on Greased Lightning; eh, Sarah?" "Oh, I wouldn't! Not on that 'orse, " said the woman. She clasped herhands imploringly together. "Remember, Ben, " she continued, speakingin a timorous voice, and her color coming and going, "remember thatGreased Lightning is a very wicious sort of 'orse, and this is only alittle child. Has you ever been on a 'orse's back afore, little love?" "Sometimes, " replied Diana. "And my faver said when I got older hewould 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 bitsitting 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 seethat you have plenty of pluck, young 'un. Come along, then, littlemissy. Tom, you go and bring out Greased Lightning this minute. " A tall lad, with red hair and a cast in one eye, now made hisappearance in the arena of the circus. At Uncle Ben's words he turnedabruptly, disappeared through a curtain, and a moment laterre-entered, leading a very graceful chestnut horse by a bridle. Thecreature 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'tfwightened, " she continued; "that aren't me. " The next moment she was lifted on to the back of Greased Lightning. Inall probability the horse which bore that title had never carriedsuch a feather-weight as little Diana before. Uncle Ben began to leadhim round and round the circus. Diana sat perfectly upright; she didnot 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 tostand? You is silly, Uncle Ben. " "I never!" said Uncle Ben, bursting out laughing. "Well, missy, if Iam silly, you has got a lot of sauce. 'What's good for the goose isgood for the gander. '" "That sounds howid vulgar, and I don't underland, " answered Diana, ina dignified tone. "I'll stand on my two foots if you'll hold G'easedLightning k'ite still. " "Woe! stay quiet this minute, " said the man to the horse. The prettycreature instantly obeyed, and little Diana, nothing loath, scrambledon to her small feet. The horse moved gently forward, and the littlechild managed to keep her balance. She went the entire round of thecircus two or three times in this position, and then Uncle Ben, sayingthat she was a very fine little creature, and would answer hispurposes 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'sa fortune in her, little mite that she is. She need not do any moreto-day. Why, I'll have her trained in no time when we get down to thewest of England. She'll do her work beautiful, and will take the houseby storm. Now then, master, it's your turn. We must have a pair ofyou, you know--a boy and a girl. It's the very thing to draw crowds inthe west. " But alas! Orion, notwithstanding his brave name, was made of verydifferent stuff from his sister. He felt fear, where Diana, in alltruth, did not know the meaning of the word. He shivered visibly whenhe was lifted on to Greased Lightning's back. Diana called out to himin an encouraging and cheery voice. "Don't forget you is a giant, " she said. "Think, of yous sword andyous belt. Now then, gee up! pretty horse; I only wishes I was widingyou. " "Come, young master, don't clutch the mane so hard, " said Holt. "Handsoff, I say! Greased Lightning won't stand that kind of treatment. " But the more the manager spoke the tighter did Orion grasp the blackmane of the chestnut horse. Greased Lightning began to paw the groundand to show many signs of discomfort; whereupon Orion uttered apiercing cry and began slipping backwards, towards the tail of thebeast. "Come, " said the man; "get back to your seat this minute. I have awhip in my hand, and it can sting; come, young sir!" "Don't you dare to stwike my bwother!" said Diana, running across thearena. Some girls, who had just come in, and several men, all burst outlaughing. "You had best come back, miss; you had best not anger him, " said afair-haired girl, stretching out her hand to the little child as shespoke. "Anger him?" said Diana. "I doesn't know what you mean. Does you thinkI are going to let Orion be hurted? Listen to me, man. You had bestlet Orion jump off this morning, 'cos he's tired. I'll talk to him allabout widing to-morrow. Let him get down now, p'ease, big man. " "Not until he has been twice round the circus, " said Uncle Ben. "Youstand aside, missy, or Greased Lightning may tread on you. " But Diana was not to be so easily restrained. She now flew up to UncleBen and tried to pull his big whip from his hand. "You don't dare to stwike my bwother!" she repeated, her eyesflashing. Her determined attitude, the fearlessness of her wholelittle nature induced Uncle Ben to yield to her for the nonce. This hedid more, particularly as he saw that the little boy was reallyincapable of keeping his seat another moment. "Well, then, look here, little miss, " he said; "you has behaved verywell indeed yourself, and so I'll let the little chap off thismorning. Now you know, sir, it is 'cos of your sister, for she's aplucky 'un; so you may go back to my wife. Here, Sarah; take the pairof '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 Irisand Apollo. The exploits, the feats performed by the three circusgirls, and by Tom the clown, to say nothing of the advent of theelephant and of the donkey who could perform numberless tricks, andfinally, the performances of the troop of dogs, who seemed more humanthan most human beings, all fascinated the little girl. Even Orionforgot his terrors as he looked on; his cheeks flamed through theirwalnut dye, and his dark eyes grew brighter than ever. When the rehearsal was at last over, the whole party rushed back totheir rooms, where a hasty meal was served; and little Diana satbetween two of the circus girls and was petted, and laughed at, andmade much of, and Orion kept close to Aunt Sarah, who took care thathe 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 Diananor Orion was allowed to be present. They found themselves shut uponce more in the ugly little room, where Mother Rodesia had firsttaken them. From this place they could hear as a sort of distant echothe shouts of the men and women who were performing, and the cheers ofthe people who were looking on. At six o'clock the performance came to an end, and then, indeed, begana fearful bustle and excitement. People were running here, there, andeverywhere, and, two hours later, the great vans were all packed, theanimals properly secured, and the party, with the exception of AuntSarah, Diana, and Orion, had started _en route_ for the west ofEngland. "Why isn't we going with the others?" asked Diana. "'Cos the train is faster, little miss, " answered Aunt Sarah. "And nowthe cab is at the door, and, if you will jump in at once we will be atthe 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 beatedby Aunt Jane. Only, course, " she added, in a meditative voice, "I'stwuly, 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 childrencould be kidnaped in the England of to-day. Nevertheless, such was thecase. Mother Rodesia had managed her theft with great skill. Thegypsies had appeared unexpectedly in the Fairy Dell--no one knew theywere there, therefore no one looked for them. Having kidnaped thechildren, Mother Rodesia took care immediately to bury their clothes, and then she sold them to Ben Holt, the great circus manager, who tookthem within a few hours right away to the southwest of England. Thelittle children had not accompanied the _troupe_, but had gone withAunt Sarah by train. There had been little fuss and no apparentattempt at hiding the pair, therefore no one thought of looking forthem in the large southwestern town where Holt established his greatcircus. It was the most popular time of the year for performing shows of allsorts, and Ben Holt expected to make a considerable sum of money outof the pretty and vivacious little pair. Meanwhile, the police were on their track; advertisements about themwere scattered all over the country--considerable rewards wereoffered, and there was more than one nearly broken heart in the prettyRectory of Super-Ashton. Even Aunt Jane felt by no means herself. She would not own to havingdone anything wrong, but she became wonderfully gentle to Iris andApollo. She was unremitting, too, in her efforts to recover the lostchildren, and began to look quite peaky about the face and lined roundthe mouth. As to Uncle William, he preached nothing but old sermons, finding itbeyond his powers to devote his attention to anything fresh or new. Hehated the study window where little Diana had lain in his arms--hehated the memory of the whip which he had used over her. On oneoccasion he even went the length of saying to his wife: "Jane, it was your doing--she was too spirited a child for thetreatment 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 muchcowed and stricken to reply a single word to her husband. He could nothelp, notwithstanding his great anxiety, having a momentary sense ofpleasure when he found that he had got the upper hand of his cleverwife; but Aunt Jane had it out with the servants and the parishionersafterwards, and so revenged herself after a fashion. As to Iris, a very sad change came over her. She grew thin and verypale; she scarcely ate anything, and scarcely ever spoke. Even Apollo, even little Ann quite failed to comfort her. She did not complain, butshe went about with a drooping look, somewhat like a little flowerwhich wants water. "Iris is not well, " Miss Ramsay said one morning to Mrs. Dolman. "Shedoes not eat her food, and when I went into her bedroom last night Ifound 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 amalmost sorry I undertook the charge of the little Delaneys. Theycertainly have turned out, as their poor father expressed it, ahandful. 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. "Andno wonder, poor little girl! For my part, I consider it perfectlyawful 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 thefair with things, and to imagine the very worst. Why, for instance, should not some very kind people have found the children? Why mustthey, as a matter of course, have fallen into the hands of cruel andunprincipled folk? Some of the very sharpest detectives in ScotlandYard are on their track. For my part, I have not the slightest doubtthat 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 littleOrion and Diana had disappeared. Mrs. Dolman was in her study. It wasa very ugly room, sparsely furnished. There was a large, old-fashioneddesk in the center of the room, and she was seated in an armchair infront 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 themysterious disappearance of the two younger children, and now, as sheraised her eyes and looked at her attentively, she was startled atthe great change in her appearance. The child was reduced almost to ashadow. She was dressed in her heavy black, without a touch ofrelieving white. Her lovely hair hung over her shoulders, and waspushed back from her low brow, bringing into greater contrast thesmall, pinched, white face, and the great brown eyes, which looked nowtoo big for the little countenance to which they belonged. "Come here, Iris, " said Mrs. Dolman. She had always liked Iris thebest 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 thecase, 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 theslender waist and drew the child close to her side. Iris submitted tothis 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. Itwould never do for you to be ill, you understand. " "Yes, Aunt Jane, " answered Iris; "that's what I think myself--it wouldnever do. " "Then you will try to get well, dear? You will do exactly what thedoctor 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, quitecertain that we shall get tidings of the lost children either to-dayor 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 flashinglight of hope into her eyes; but then it died out. She lowered herlashes 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 youaway this minute to see the doctor. " She rose impatiently as she spoke. The apathy which was over Irisirritated her more than she could express. If the child had only burstinto tears, or even defied her as little Diana used to do, she feltthat 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. Dolmanto herself. "I never saw such a queer expression on any little girl'sface. 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 thissilly way. The worst of it is, too, that there is nothing really tolay 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 ofthem have disappeared, and the eldest, his favorite, too, is veryill?" 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, " answeredIris. Mrs. Dolman tied on her own bonnet with her usual vigor. She then tookone of the hot little hands in hers, and, a few moments later, theaunt and niece were standing outside Dr. Kent's door in the prettylittle village street. Dr. Kent was at home. He was a young man, and a clever doctor, and hegave Iris a good overhauling. He listened to her lungs and heart, putseveral questions to her, was kind in his manner, and did not expressthe least surprise when he heard that the little girl could neithereat nor sleep. "I perfectly understand, " he said. "And now, my dear, I hope soon tohave you as right as a trivet; but, in the meantime, I should like tohave a little talk with your aunt. Can you find your way into mydining room? You have only to turn to the left when you leave thisroom. " "Thank you, " answered Iris. She went to the door, opened it, and shutit behind her. "Now, what do you think about her?" said Aunt Jane. "Out with thetruth, please, Dr. Kent. You know I never can stand any beating aboutthe bush. " "There is nothing of the ordinary nature the matter with your littleniece, " 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 withthe child in the form of organic or any other disease; but just atpresent there is such a severe strain on her mind that, if it is notcompletely 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 inlife. She has been subjected to a terrible shock. " "Of course she has, " replied Mrs. Dolman; "but the extraordinary thingis 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 verynervous 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 mayas well say that I never saw anyone more sensible than little Irisabout that. She scarcely seemed to grieve at all. Of course, I daresay she was very sorry, but she did not show it. " "All the worse for her, " answered Dr. Kent. "If she had given wayabout her mother, and allowed her grief to get the upper hand, shewould not be so ill as she is now. Then came the second blow--theextraordinary loss of the children. " "Then you really think her very ill?" said Mrs. Dolman. "I would doanything to save her, doctor. These four children were put into mycare 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 atthe death of his wife. It would be fearful for him to learn that twoof the children are missing, and one very ill. I have waited, hopingfor better news. " "You did wrong. He ought to know of this calamity. Each day that doesnot give you tidings of the missing children lessens the chance ofyour ever recovering them. I must say their disappearance is mostmysterious. " "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 mostlikely 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 isrelieved, she will be well in a week. Under existing circumstances, however, there seems but small chance of that. You ought tocommunicate with the father, and if I were you I would let the childdo something herself--even if that something is useless--to try torecover her lost brother and sister. " "What do you mean? It really is impossible for the child to go overthe country looking for Orion and Diana. Oh, what trouble I broughtupon 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 trueopinion. Please act on my suggestion; I am sure you will not regretit. Communicate with the father in the quickest way possible, urge himto return to London without fail, and give little Iris something to dowhich will occupy and satisfy her mind. In the meantime I will orderher a tonic, but medicines are not what she needs. She requires mindrest, and nothing else will make her well. " Mrs. Dolman left Dr. Kent's house, feeling very uncomfortable. Shetook Iris home, was wonderfully gentle to her during the walk, andsent her up to the schoolroom with a message to Miss Ramsay to saythat she was not to do any more lessons that morning. Having got ridof Iris, she went immediately to have an interview with her husband inhis 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 cannotbe found, and Dr. Kent says that Iris is going to be very ill. " "Iris going to be ill?" repeated Mr. Dolman. "Has she caught anythingtaking. If so, Jane, it would be our duty to separate the childrenimmediately. " "Oh, nonsense, William! Where would she take a catching complaint in awholesome, well-sanitated rectory like this? Have you never heard ofnerve 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 ofthem. So you really believe in them at last?" "I am forced to when that pretty child is dying from the effects ofthem. " Mrs. Dolman then repeated to her husband all that Dr. Kent had said. "I cannot stand the responsibility any longer, " she said. "I will senda cablegram to David this very day. What will he think of me? Ofcourse he will never forgive me. In the meantime, William, have youanything 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 afterday, doing nothing. " "William, what do you mean?" answered his wife. "Sitting here dayafter 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 theparish, and everything is really in a prosperous condition; but thefact is, I hate sitting down to my comfortable meals, and lying downat night on my comfortable bed, not knowing in what part of the worlddear, spirited little Diana may be. I don't think half so much aboutthe boy as little Diana. " "You are like all the rest of your sex, William; you are taken by achild 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 dreadfullysorry, and I acknowledge--I do acknowledge--that I have been more orless to blame. But now, please, come to the point--you always weresuch a man for going round and round a subject. " "Well, then, " said Mr. Dolman, "this is it. The doctor wishes Iris tobe roused. Let me take both her and Apollo, and let us begin to lookfor the lost children. " "And do you suppose, " answered Mrs. Dolman, with a laugh, "that youwill be more likely to find the children than the clever detectiveswho are on their track?" "We can go to London and take a detective with us. Iris will at oncefeel happier if she is doing something. The fact is this: I am certainthe inaction is killing her. " "It is an extraordinary plan, " said Mrs. Dolman; "but after all, if itis 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 perfecthealth. " "The person to consider is Iris, " said Mr. Dolman. "She will confidein Apollo when she will not confide in anyone else; and I think, Jane, " he added, looking very strong and determined, "that she wouldrather go with me than with you. " Mrs. Dolman flushed. "You know, Jane, " continued her husband, "you have been a little hard on thesechildren. " "Perhaps so, " answered Mrs. Dolman, "and when I have tried to do myduty, too. But, of course, Evangeline's children were likely to beunmanageable; they had such extraordinary training when they werebabies. However, as matters stand, I have not a word to say. " "Then, my dear, we will consider the thing arranged. We can easily getJohn Burroughs to lend us one of his curates for Sunday, and you willdo all the rest. Now, shall I see Iris and submit the plan to her?" "An extraordinary plan it is, " answered Mrs. Dolman; "but perhaps youare right, William. At any rate, I have proved myself so completely inthe 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 comedownstairs 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 tospeak to you. Now, come at once, for he is not the sort of man to bekept waiting. " Mrs. Dolman left the room and the children followed her. When theyreached 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 speakingwith great eagerness and emphasis for him; "you and I, Iris, have gotto do something, and there is not a moment to delay. " A great flood of color filled Iris' cheeks, a new light darted intoher eyes. "Oh, yes, Uncle William, " she said, panting as she spoke, "we havebeen 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 andApollo. We will start this very afternoon; we will look for thechildren ourselves. Why, what is the matter, my dear; what is thematter? What are you doing?" For little Iris had fallen on her knees, had caught her uncle's handin both of hers, and was pressing it frantically to her lips. "Oh, Uncle William, " she said, "how can I thank you? I promised motherthe day she died that I would be a little mother to the others, and Ihave failed, I have failed dreadfully, and it is killing me, UncleWilliam. But oh, if I can find them again, and if you will really helpme, and if we do start to-day--oh, if this is true, then I am happyagain. " "You observe, my dear Jane, " said Mr. Dolman, "that my proposal seemsto be correct. Now, run off, Iris, and get Simpson to pack someclothes for you and Apollo. We will leave Super-Ashton by the threeo'clock train. " CHAPTER XIX. "A PIGMY I CALL HIM. " The seaside town of Madersley was crowded to excess. It was the heightof the summer season, and Holt's circus was doing a roaring trade. There were two exhibitions daily, and every available corner in thegreat tent was crammed to excess. The spectators said that they cameprincipally to see the little dark-eyed girl ride. For Diana had takento the life almost as kindly as a young duck takes to the water. Shehad learned her part quickly, and in a very short time she could rideeven 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 abuck-jumper, who did his utmost to toss her off. There were always menor women close by to catch her if she did fail to go through any ofthe rings, the large paper balloons, or the other obstructions put inher way. Her piquant little face, the bold expression of her eyes, herfearless 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 meansfollowed her example. Put to the test, poor little Orion had little ofthe real giant about him. He was an ordinary little boy, with prettyblack 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 GreasedLightning, became terribly afraid of the beast, and always turnedwhite to his little lips when he was going through his exercises. As arule, Ben Holt always trained the novices himself, and although he waskind to Diana, he soon began to have a thorough contempt for littleOrion. "He's a peaky little chap, " he said to his wife. "Why, he aint evenworth the twenty shillin's I paid for 'im. Now the little 'un--thegal--there's a fortune in her; but the boy--I have no patience withthe 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 greatwhip. On this occasion Orion lost every scrap of nerve he possessed, and fell flat down upon the sanded floor of the arena, shivering andcrying painfully. Diana did not happen to be present. When she was by, small child that she was, Uncle Ben never showed at his worst, andOrion, looking round now in vain for his sister, gave himself up forlost. "Now listen to me, you young villain, " said the tyrant; "I'll forceyou to do what I want. You get on Greased Lightning's back this veryminute. " Little Orion struggled painfully to his feet. A good-natured girl, whostood near, tried to say a word in his favor. "Don't you forget that he's very young, Ben Holt, " she said. "It willbe 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, " wasthe angry reply. Susan Jenkins, a pretty, slight, fair-haired girl, who went by thegraceful name of Ariel in the circus programme, did not venture to sayanything further, but in her heart she resolved to give Diana a hintof the true state of the case. Orion was once more lifted on Greased Lightning's back, and themanager cracking his whip, the beautiful horse began to trot round andround the arena. At first the creature went fairly quietly, and Orionmanaged to keep his seat. His piteous white face, the black shadowsunder his eyes, his little trembling hands were noticed, however, bySusan. She kept near on purpose and tried to encourage him by smilesand nods. When he passed close to her he heard her hearty voicesaying, "Well done, little chap! You jest stick on and you'll be asright as a trivet. " A strangled sob by way of answer rose in Orion's throat. Alas! he knewonly too well that he could not stick on. Louder and faster grew thecrack of the manager's whip, and faster and fleeter trotted GreasedLightning. It was impossible for Orion to keep his seat; he hadnothing to cling to, nothing to hold on to. "You will have to do all this before the company to-morrow, " calledout the manager; "and now, no more of that easy sitting still. Youjest 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 tohis very lips. Crack went the great whip. "Stand up this minute, or you'll have a taste of this about yourlegs, " said the man, in a brutal tone. In deadly fear the little fellow struggled to his feet; he lookedwildly round him, the horse trotted forward, the child fell on hisface and hands and clutched hold of the black mane. This enraged thespirited beast, who began to dance and curvet about, and the nextmoment, but for the speedy interference of Susan Jenkins, little Orionwould have measured his length upon the floor. Even as it was he washurt 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 gotto learn his lesson or he don't stay here; he is not a patch on hissister, but he shall learn his part. I has it all arranged that themtwo children is to appear in public to-morrow, and the boy must helpthe gal. The gal will do her work right well, but the boy must helpher. It's the look of the two, and they so young, that I reckon on tofill the house. I'm determined that a mite of that sort shan't beatme. He could have stood on the horse's back if he had had a mind. Hehas disobeyed me and he shall be punished. You take 'im and lock 'imup in the black cage. " The black cage was a terrible place, in which some of the fierceranimals were put from time to time to train them. It really consistedof a huge box without windows, but with one or two small ventilatingshafts in the door. On rare occasions, when thoroughly enraged, themanager had been known to lock a refractory member of the troupe upthere; 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'llfrighten 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 roundher ankles. What might have really happened at the end is not known; but suddenlyat this juncture the swing door was flung open and little Dianamarched in. She held her head well back, and trotted boldly into thecenter of the arena. "Dear, dear, what's all this fuss?" she cried out in her frank, heartyvoice. "Uncle Ben, is anybody a-vexing of you?" "Yes, my dear; that little brother of yours. You jest tell him to dohis duty. " "Oh, Diana, Diana! he's killing me!" sobbed little Orion. He struggledout of Susan's arms, flew to his sister, flung the whole weight of hislittle body against her, and gave way to a fresh agony of howling andweeping. Diana's black eyes flashed. "You stay k'iet. Orion; 'member you is a giant, " she said, speaking ina whisper to the boy. "I's here, and I'll look after you. You stayk'iet. Now, Uncle Ben, what's all this?" "Only that silly boy won't ride Greased Lightning. He won't even standon 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 unclaspedOrion's arms from her neck and trotted across the stage. She ran up tothe great chestnut and began to stroke its nose. The creature lickedher 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 alittle 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 afearedof nothing, and I aren't afeared of you, Uncle Ben, so don't you beginto think I is. " "Never seed sech a child, " said Uncle Ben, once more restored to goodhumor. "Jest notice that perfect demon of a 'orse, how 'e takes to'er. Never seed anything like it afore. Well, missy, and if you canmanage your brother I'm sure I'll be only too pleased, but jest youremember this--you are both to go before the footlights to-morrow forthe 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, UncleBen, 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 hewas, 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 thatgibberish. " "Well, he's not to be punished, 'cos I say he isn't. He's coming withme now to his dinner. Come 'long, Orion, this minute; I has come tofetch you. Good-by, Uncle Ben. " Uncle Ben did not utter a word. Orion and Diana left the arena, handin hand. "What about the black cage now, mister?" said the circus girl, with asneer. "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 alaugh; "and, for my part, " she added, "I am right glad. I don't wantthat 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 putin an appearance. They were to make their grand _début_ together onthe following day, for hitherto only Diana had ridden in public. Theywere left now in the little room, all alone, but as they were togetherthat did not matter at all to them. Orion's weary head rested againsthis 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 hadaltered for him. From being a beautiful place, full of lovely gardens, and lovely homes, and kind people--from being full of snug little bedsto sleep in, and nice food to eat, and loving services of allsorts--it had suddenly turned and shown its black face to the tenderlynurtured little boy. Rough words were now his portion; he had a hardbed to lie on, very insufficient and very poor food to eat, and inaddition to these things, blows and kicks were measured out to himwith a very liberal hand. Besides these fearful things, he wasexpected to do what terrified him into the very core of his somewhattimorous heart. Until he had been kidnaped by Mother Rodesia he hadnever known that he was really timid, but now this side of his naturehad 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 healthbegan to fail. He refused to eat the coarse and insufficient food, andwhen he slept his sleep was broken by bad dreams. Little Diana knewthat there was something very wrong the matter, but she could notquite tell what. She had a very energetic little brain, however, andit was working now hard in Orion's behalf. The noise and shouts made by the circus people were distinctly audibleto the two little children. Orion raised his head, looked around himwith a terrified glance, and began to cry feebly. "Is Uncle Ben coming? Have I got to ride Greased Lightning? Di, areyou there? are you close to me?" "Course I is, " answered Diana. "Orion, don't you be such a silly; I iswith 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 nothinggoing 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 onthe table; Aunt Sawah left it. Shall we eat our supper afore wetalks?" "I can't eat, " replied Orion. "I'm not a scrap hungry; I am neverhungry now. I wonder you can eat, Diana. " "Course I can eat, " replied Diana; "I aren't a silly. I has got towide G'eased Lightning. I love G'eased Lightning. Don't know why youis 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 andauthoritative voice. "See, I am eating up my supper, and you had besthave some with me. I'll sit by you on the floor, if you like, and feedyou 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 weis nor not. You is almost a baby--I is k'ite a big girl. Now, openyour mouth; I am going to pop in some food. Here's a vedy nice pieceof bwead. " Orion did what Diana wished, but he could scarcely eat. Tears camesuddenly into his eyes. "I wish I was dead, like poor Rub-a-Dub, " he said, after a pause; "Iwish I was lying in the beautiful garden, in the cemetery part withRub-a-Dub. " "Oh, don't be such a silly!" said Diana. "You has a lot to do aforeyou 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 shewould be disappointed, for I am not a star, nor yet a giant. I'm justthe frightenest little boy in the world. " "I has thought of a plan, " said Diana very calmly. "You shan't widePole 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 widePole 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 notfwightened of any horse that ever walked. If I are there, and if Ilook at G'eased Lightning, he'll be as good as good can be, and youmust just keep looking at me, Orion, and do the things that I do. Whenyou see me standing on Pole Star you must stand on your two foots onG'eased Lightning, and when we fly faster and faster you must stillkeep looking at me, and when I jump through the wings you must do thesame, and then, Orion, then, why, it will be over. Now, bend down; I'mgoing 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 energeticwords 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. Hislittle face brightened up, two fever spots came into his cheeks; hiseyes 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 nowthat 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 shalldrink up the last dwop of milk. Here now, isn't you better?" "I am really, truly, " said Orion; "but are you quite certain it'strue, Di?" "K'ite. Do you think I would tell a lie? I is the _gweat_ Diana. Youis 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. Wehas a lot to do to-morrow, hasn't we?" "Yes, a lot, " answered Orion, with a little laugh. "Oh, Di! will theylet 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 laybroad awake. She was thinking hard, and her thoughts were wonderfullysensible for such a baby. The performance at the circus had turned out a great success. Dianahad already appeared once or twice on Greased Lightning's back, butBen Holt now kept her out of sight on purpose. He had caused rumors tobe spread about her wonderful riding; his aim was to make people veryanxious to see her again. He wanted the public to have a sort ofcraving for her. He hoped that when she finally appeared, dressed asthe great Diana, with the bow and arrows, and when little Orionaccompanied her with his girdle round his waist, and a sword in hishand, and when the two children rode round and round the circus on thefleetest horses in the company, that they would in very truth bringdown 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 nomeans so sure as far as Orion was concerned. If Orion would not playhis part well, and look what he was--one of the prettiest boys inEngland, and one of the very youngest who had ever appeared in acircus--why, half the effect would be lost. He began to perceive, however, that cruelty had little or no effect on the child, and he wasinclined to allow that little genius, Diana, to manage him in her ownway. That night when the entertainment had come to an end, and Uncle Benwas seated at his cozy supper, he was much surprised when the door ofthe room was pushed suddenly open and a small girl, clad in a littlewhite nightdress, made her appearance. "Is my dear Uncle Ben anywhere about?" called out the clear littlevoice. "My word! if that aint little Diana, " said the man. "Come here thisminute, you little romp, and get on my knee. " Diana flew up to him, climbed on his knee, put her arms round hisneck, 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 galI 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--Ihas 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'ttouch it. Well, now, listen to me, Uncle Ben. It apends altogether onwhether 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'easedLightning 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 ofbeast. " "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 wasand I never will be. " "I believe yer, miss, " said Uncle Ben, gazing at her with greatadmiration. "But Orion he is--he is awfu' fwightened of Pole Star, and he sha'n'twide him. Now, G'eased Lightning, he'll do anything for me, and sowhat I say is this--let Orion wide him, and if he begins to danceabout and get sort of fidgety, why, I'll stwoke him down. You know Icould 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 nevera-going to let either of them little kids ride a 'orse like PoleStar?" "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 neverfwightened; that aren't me. I'll wide Pole Star, and Orion, he'll wideG'eased Lightning, _only_--now, Uncle Ben, is you listening?" "Yes, to be sure I am, missy, " said Uncle Ben, taking another deepdraught 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, hemay go 'way. " "Go away, missy?" "Yes, let's pertend it. If he thinks he's going away after he has doneit, why, there's nothing he won't twy to do, 'cos, you see, he'slonging to go. Let's say this to him: 'Orion, you's good boy, you'sdarlin' boy, and when you has done what I want you to do, you shall goway'--then he'll do it beaut'ful. " "But he aint a-going, " said the man, "he's my property. I has boughthim; I has bought you both. You are sort of slaves to me. " "No, I aren't a slave to nobody, " said Diana, whose fierce littleblood could not brook this word. "Well, you are a very good little gal, and so I am to pretend to Orionthat he's going away; but now, when I don't mean him to go, that seemssort of cruel. " "Oh, you leave it to me!" said Diana; "let him think he's going awayand I'll manage. Tell Susan to tell him, and tell Aunt Sawah to tellhim, and you tell him, and I'll tell him, and then he'll be as good asgood, and as bwave--as bwave as a big giant. " "Well, my dear, manage it your own way, " said Uncle Ben; "but, all thesame, 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 yourown 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 grandrehearsal of their parts. It was a dress rehearsal. Holt was in highspirits, and Aunt Sarah, who stood just in front of the circus, pettedand encouraged both Diana and Orion as much as possible. Orion feltshaky and looked very white, but the delicious thought that, after hehad gone through those few minutes of agony, he might really be freeto run away, to leave the dreadful, terrible circus forever, sustainedhim wonderfully. Diana had assured him that this could be managed. Shehad told him that Uncle Ben had promised that if he was a brave boyand sat well on Greased Lightning, and stood up when necessary, and, in short, went through the ordeal set him to do, without a murmur, heshould be allowed to leave the circus that evening. It matterednothing at all to little Orion that he did not know where he was togo, that he was a penniless and very small, very ignorant boy. The oneobject on which all his hopes were centered was the desire to get awayfrom 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 befwightened. If you's fwightened, Uncle Ben won't let you go. You justbe as bwave as possible, and never mind nobody. Now, then, it's yourturn. Come 'long. " Orion looked charming in his pretty dress. He wore a little sky-bluetunic, with small, tight knickers of white; his little legs and feetwere bare, round his waist was a crimson girdle, and at his side wasattached a toy sword. Diana wore a silk skirt and tights, her curling black hair fell partlyover her forehead; her bold, black eyes were full of a strange mixtureof frolic, affection, and defiance. She looked the personification ofhealthy life and courageous fire. In her hand she held the bow ofDiana, and round her neck was slung a couple of arrows. She was awonderfully graceful child in all her movements, and looked charmingin her picturesque dress. The call for the children came, and the two bounded on the stage. Themoment they did so, Diana ran up to Uncle Ben and took hold of thegreat 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 slashit; I know how. Ah, here comes G'eased Lightning. Come 'long, youbeauty; come 'long, you darlin'. " Diana ran fearlessly up to the horse, fondled its nose, and lookedinto its eyes; the creature stood perfectly still, bent its gracefulhead, and licked her little hand. "And it's a perfect brute to everyone else, " thought Uncle Ben tohimself, but this time he did not utter a word. The horse stood perfectly motionless until little Orion was mounted onits 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 UncleBen, 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 stoodby Uncle Ben's side. "I's managing, " she said; "you shall have whip to-night; but I'smanaging now. " The other performers stood round in breathless silence. Orion kept hisseat 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 totrot, but still very gently, round and round the circus. "Good boy, " repeated Diana; "good horse! Now then, Orion, get up on toyous two foots; don't be fwightened. 'Member what will happen whenit's over. Get up on to yous foots this minute. " Poor little Orion scrambled in deadly terror on to his small feet; butthe horse still went swift and smooth, neither budging nor turning tothe right or the left. Diana once again cracked her whip. He wentfaster and faster. Orion began to lose his fear; he even laughed withexcitement; the rose bloom came out on his delicate little face. Theterrible hoops were brought, and the child made a manful effort to getthrough them. Diana cracked her whip and called out and encouragedhim, and finally brought him successfully through the ordeal. He wastaken off the stage wet with perspiration, and trembling all over, butat 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 neverdid see a little gal like your sister. Oh, merciful Heavens! that manaint never a-going to let her ride Pole Star!" A black horse of immense strength and size was now brought upon thestage. This horse seemed to paw the air as he walked; his eyes werebloodshot 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 youinsist on that little chap, that aint a patch on you, riding GreasedLightning, why, there aint nothing for it but for you to ride PoleStar. " "You don't 'uppose I's fwightened of Pole Star? Why, he's a wealbeauty, " 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 justthe same fearless confidence as, half an hour before, she had gone upto Greased Lightning--she now approached Pole Star. "You's pwetty, you's a darlin', " she said. She held out her tinybrown hand. "Give me a bit of sugar, somebody, " she demanded. A girl who stood near ran away to fetch a lump. The child offered itto 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 akitten. "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'easedLightning. Pole Star, I's going to wide you; you's a dear, goodhorse. " She stroked the creature's nose--the fierce eyes grewgentle--a moment later the child was mounted on its back. "Now, gee up, gee up!" called Diana. "P'ease, Uncle Ben, don't cwackyour whip; I can manage Pole Star. " She pulled at the reins, and thecreature began, at first gently and then more rapidly, to run roundand round the stage. After all, notwithstanding her bravery, it was anordeal, for Pole Star could run double as fast as Greased Lightning. Soon, from running he seemed to take to flying, and little Dianagasped and lost her breath; but she sat firm as a statue, and nevertouched a hair of the creature's mane. "Now, Pole Star, " she called out, when the horse had stopped for wantof breath; "I's going to stand on you, and you must be vedy good. " Shepatted the animal on its head; then she scrambled to her feet, and, holding the reins taut, stood firm as an arrow, while the creatureonce more flew round the stage. When her ride was over she had won theapplause 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 AuntSarah. As to Diana, she was in excellent spirits. "Oh, please, Di; nothing will make you stop, nothing will make youbreak 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 thechildren were to appear before the footlights. The huge circus tent was packed to the highest gallery. There was, inshort, 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 Dianaflew up to him and took his hand. "What is you 'cited about?" she asked. "Is you fwightened 'boutanything?" "No, little gal, no--that is, provided you and your brother do yourparts well. " "We has pwomised, " said Diana, with great firmness; "you needn't befwightened; we has pwomised. " The children were to appear as the last item of the first part of theperformance. Uncle Ben felt that on them really turned the success ofthe evening. At last the crucial moment arrived. Two beautiful horseswere led into the circus, and immediately afterwards little Diana, holding Orion by the hand, skipped on to the stage. She came lightlyforward, almost up to the footlights, dropped a somewhat pert littlecourtesy, turned round, and, taking Orion's hand, danced up to wherethe two horses were impatiently pawing the ground. Uncle Ben, withhis big whip in his hand, dressed in evening clothes, was standing atone side. A man came forward to help Diana to mount Pole Star--anothergave his hand to Orion. "'Member, Orion, you has pwomised, and it all apends, " said Diana, ina low, but very clear, voice. The little fellow looked at her. Her spirited action, the splendidcolor in her cheeks, the glow of excitement in her great big eyes, inspired him. He would not ride for those horrid people who werecrowding all the seats in front, those horrid, terrible people whoseemed to rise from the floor to the ceiling. He did not care anythingabout those faces, those cruel, staring eyes, those smiling lips; buthe did care for Diana. He would ride his best for her. "Steady, G'eased Lightning, " said the little girl; "you's to be goodhorse, 'member. Now, Pole Star, beauty, darlin', do just what Dianawants. " The horses began to canter forward, going briskly and swiftly side byside. Greased Lightning's coal-black eye was fixed upon Diana as shesat on Pole Star's back. Pole Star felt the feather-weight of the hothand on his mane, the touch of the little feet somewhere near hisneck. There was a magnetic current of sympathy between the horse andthe child. "Think you's a giant, " she said once to Orion, as she shot past him inthe race. The crowd, speechless with astonishment and delight for the firstmoment or two, now began to clap and cheer loudly. Crack went UncleBen's whip. The circus girls in the wings, the men, the clown, allwatched 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 haveentered into his soul. The signal came for the pair to stand upon the bare, backs of theirhorses. Little Orion scrambled as quickly and nimbly to his feet asDiana herself. He caught the reins; crack again went the whip; thehorses flew round and round. Now and then Diana said a soft word toGreased Lightning; now and then she stamped her small foot on PoleStar's neck. Each movement, each glance of the child, seemed to thrillthrough the willing beast. Incomprehensible as it may seem, both thesewild, half-tamed creatures loved her. They kept straight, veeringneither to left nor right, for her sake. The first part of the performance went safely through, but now camethe more difficult and dangerous time. The children were now not onlyto ride the horses standing, but they were obliged to ride holding onefoot in the air, then to keep on their steeds standing on tiptoe, andfinally they had to spring through great rings made of tissue paper, and leap again upon the horses as they galloped through. Dianaperformed her task with unfailing exactness, always reaching thehorse's back at the right moment, springing up, sitting down, standingfirst on one foot, then on the other, being apparently on wires, afraid of nothing, triumphant through all. Orion made a gallant effortto follow her example. In two minutes now the whole thing would beover. "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 allmight now have been well if at that moment Diana herself--Diana thefearless, the brave, the unconquerable--had not slipped, slipped atthe very moment when she was springing through one of the rings. Thehorse galloped on without her, and she lay prone upon the floor of thecircus. Uncle Ben rushed madly to the rescue, and before Orion's horsehad reached the spot he had caught the child in his arms. She wasstunned by the fall, and lay white as death in his embrace. The housethought the fall had killed her, and there was a horrified murmur; butDiana was only stunned. In a moment she raised her cheery littlevoice. "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 thehouse, "you must do no more to-night. The company, I know, will excuseyou. " Seating the child on his shoulder, and patting her handaffectionately, as if he were her father, he brought little Diana tothe front. "I hope, ladies and gentlemen, " he called out, "that you will excusethis great lady huntress to-night. But if you wish her to take anotherturn round on the back of the great Pole Star, she is willing tocomply. " "No!" shouted voice after voice in the gallery; "let little missy off. We'll come to see little missy another night. Three cheers for littlemissy!" The next moment Diana and Orion found themselves at the back of thestage. "Is it true, Di?" gasped Orion. "Is it all over?" "Yes; it's all over, " answered little Diana. She leaned against thewall. "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'msure. " The curtain had fallen on the first half of the performance, and UncleBen 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 straightto bed. Sarah, take the kids off and give them a good supper, for theyhas 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 theimage of my Rachel, what the good God took from me. I thought you weredead, and it 'most broke my 'eart--oh, little missy, little darlin'!" "But, Diana, aren't we going away?" Said Orion. "You promised, and younever 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 thingto 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 withbowls of bread and milk. Diana sat listlessly down on the nearestbench. "I's awfu' s'eepy, " she said. She did not quite know what was the matter with her; it seemed as ifsomething had suddenly knocked all her spirit away. She did not knowherself without the brave spirit which God had put into her littlebreast. Orion gazed at her anxiously. "You do look queer, " he said; "your eyes are bigger than ever, andthey 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 eatall you can, Orion. " "Yes, I had best, " answered Orion, "'cos I won't have strength to runaway if I hasn't plenty of food. " He began to eat up his own basin of bread and milk, and, as it was nottoo large, he thought he might attack Diana's also; then he gave heran anxious glance. She was sitting strangely still, her hands lyingidly in her lap, her eyes staring straight at the opposite wall. "'Member we is going away, and that you promised, " he said. "Isn't ittime for us to be off?" "Yes, Orion, " she answered. "Well, drink off this teeny drop of milk; it will strengthen you. " Hebrought the bowl to Diana, who sipped of a few spoonfuls; but then sheshook 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 willfind us; and you promised, and you never broke your word yet. " "I underland, " said Diana; "I would not bweak my word; that would bemean. " "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 herside, her arrow slung round her neck. Orion was also in his prettydress, with his tiny sword and belt, his blue jacket and little whiteknickers. "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 ofvoice. "I's s'eepy. Shall we wun away in the morning, Orion?" "No; to-night! to-night!" he said, in terror. "You'll break yourpromise if we don't go to-night. " "All wight, " she answered. He brought her shoes, slipped them on her feet, buttoned them, and puton his own; then he took her hand in his. They opened the door oftheir bedroom and ran down a long passage, at the end of which wasanother door; it was on the latch. Orion opened it, and the littlechildren found themselves at the back of the stage. There were nopeople about to see them, even Aunt Sarah was far away in one of thewings. "There! we is safe, " said Orion. "We has runned away, and we aresafe. " "We has wunned away and we is safe, " echoed Diana, in that drearylittle 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 lookedup at the stars. "Why, it's a starful night!" he cried, in a joyful voice, "and there'sme. 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 itfar 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'scount 'em; I wonder how many there is!" She stopped suddenly and gazedaround her. "What do you mean?" said Orion, in some alarm. "We are nowhere nearthe garden. Don't you know where we are, Diana?" "Yes, I do now, course, " she answered, with a laugh. "I think I wasdweaming; it's my head; it's keer. I want to s'eep awfu'. " "Well, here are the fields, " said Orion; "here's a beautiful greenfield, and the moon is shining on it. Oh, and there's a hole in thehedge; let's creep in. " "Let's k'eep in, " said Diana. They pushed their way through the hole and found themselves in aclover field. The clover, slightly wet with dew, felt very refreshingto their hot little feet. "Isn't this 'licious?" said Diana. "Let's lie down on the g'eeng'ass; let's s'eep here; I's awfu' s'eepy. " "It's very near the circus, " said Orion. "I'm rather frightened forfear 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, andthen nothing would persuade her to go any further. Down on the dampgrass she flung herself, and then next moment was fast asleep. Orion, aged six, did not think it wrong for Diana to sleep on the wetgrass. The moon shone all over her bare little legs. She folded herarms when she lay down, and now there was not a stir, nor a movementfrom her. Far away, or at least it seemed far away to little Orion, he could seethe blinking lights of the town, and when he stood on tiptoe he couldalso see the lights of the merry-go-rounds and the otheraccompaniments of the great circus. He knew that he was dreadfullynear his tyrants, and he longed beyond words to awaken Diana and makeher go farther away; but she was asleep--dead tired. He never couldmaster her. There was nothing, therefore, but for him to lie downalso, close to her. Accordingly, he flung himself on the grass, laid his head on hershoulder, nestling up close to her for warmth and protection, and in afew moments he had also forgotten his fears, and was calmly living inthe blessed land of dreams. The great Orion overhead looked down onhis tiny namesake, and the little boy dreamt that he was a giant invery truth, and that he and Diana were fighting their way through theworld. The children slept, and presently the creatures of the night cameout--the owls, and the bats, and the night moths--and looked withwonder at the queer little pair lying prone amongst the green clover. Thousands of wonderful night noises also began to awaken in alldirections--the merry chirp of the cricket, the whir of the bat on itscircling flight, the hum of the moths--but the children heard nothing, although the creatures of the night were curious about these strangelittle beings who, by good rights, ought not to be sharing theirkingdom. 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 rushmemory returned to him. He had run away; he had ridden GreasedLightning and had not fallen from his back; his terrible life in thecircus was at an end. Uncle Ben was nowhere near to chide him. He andDiana had got off; but it was true that they had not put a greatdistance between themselves and Uncle Ben. Perhaps Uncle Ben, who hadpromised that he might go away if he did his part well, might changehis mind in the morning. It was most important that he and his sistershould go farther away as quickly as possible. Accordingly, he proceeded to wake Diana. Diana was very sound asleepindeed. He could see her face distinctly, for the first faint returnof 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 notrun 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 atOrion and hooted in a very melancholy manner. His voice seemed to say: "I never saw two greater little fools than you children in all mylife. " Orion felt rather afraid of the owl. Having failed to awaken Diana bywords, he proceeded to shake her. This device succeeded. She openedher great, big, sleepy eyes and stared around her in bewilderment. "So you is our little mother now, Iris?" she said. "All wight; I'scoming. " She sat up on her grassy bed and rubbed her eyes, then stared at Orionand 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, theawful 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 hismind, perhaps, and I cannot ride Greased Lightning again. Don't speakso queer, Di. Do rouse yourself. We must get out of this as fast as wecan. " "As fast as we can, " echoed Diana. "All wight, Orion; I's k'itesati'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?" shesaid. "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'sUncle Ben!" "I don't know nothing 'bout no Uncle Ben; but didn't you see somethingflash there?--something white, just over there? I know who it was; itwas 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 atleast, was full of agony. No answer either from the heaven above orthe earth beneath. "It was a mistake, I s'pect, " said Diana. "Mother is in heaven; she'sa beautiful angel, singing loud. Well, let's come 'long. " Shestaggered to her feet, and, supported by Orion, began to walk acrossthe 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 gonesilly. " "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 wentaway to the angels, and we has got no lessons. Where's Iris? I wantIris. " "So do I, " said Orion. "Oh, Di! what is to become of us? You frightenme. " "K'ite fwighten poor little boy, " echoed Diana. "I's sossy, but Ican'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!" Hereally was. Diana's strange behavior was more than he couldunderstand. "Oh, I'm so bitter hungry!" he cried. He flung himself onthe 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 myhand 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 theplace felt warm and dry. Little Orion, shivering in his queer circusdress, was glad of this, and a faint degree of returning courage cameinto his heart. Diana did not seem to feel anything at all. She walked along, singingas 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 doyou 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 leastknow where she was going. "S'pect I aren't well, " she said at last. "Don't be fwightened, poorlittle 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 armflung round Diana's waist. Suddenly, rattling round a corner of thecountry road, came a man with a milk cart. He was a verycheery-looking man with a fat face. He had bright blue eyes and akindly mouth. "Hullo!" he said, when he saw the two little children coming to meethim. "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. Weis 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 horselast night, and there's something gone wrong inside her head. I s'pectsomething's cracked there. She's talking a lot of nonsense. We hasrunned away, and we is desperate hungry. Can you give us a drink ofmilk?" "Well, to be sure, " said the man, smacking his lips as he spoke. "Inever 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 hasrun away, and you belong to the circus, I guess. Why, you are in yourcircus dresses. " "See my bow and arrow, " said Diana. "I is the gweat Diana; I is thegweatest 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 havinga good effect. "You can watch me up in the sky on starful nights. I ama 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 thegarding; I want Iris; I want mother. Man, do you know that my motherhas gone away to the angels? She is playing a gold harp and singingever so loud; and once we had a little mouse, and it was calledRub-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 bigcan, poured out a glass of foaming milk. He gave it to Orion, whodrank it all off at the first draught. He then filled out a secondmeasure, 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'sthe matter; I isn't well. " "She had a bad fall last night at the circus, " said Orion. "She fellfrom 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, lookingup 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 peoplewho 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 theroad, away from the milkman. Diana stood quite still. "Aren't he silly little boy?" she said. "But he mustn't go back tocircus, milkman; it would kill him. I isn't able to wide to-day, 'cosI's c'acked inside my head; and he mustn't wide without me, 'cos itwould kill him. Couldn't we go to your house, milkman, and rest therefor a bit?" "Well, to be sure; I never thought of that, " said the man. "So youshall, 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 bigmilk can. Now, we'll set Peggy going, and she will soon overtakelittle 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 overtooklittle Orion, who was lifted also into the milk cart. Then the milkmanturned swiftly round and carried the children back to a small house onthe outskirts of the town. When he got there he called out in a lustyvoice: "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?" sheanswered. "Only this, wife. I met the queerest little pair in all the world onthe road. Can't you take them in and give them rest for a bit? Ibelieve 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 inDiana'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 weboth saw in the circus last night. Didn't I see her when she fell fromthe ring? Oh, poor little dear! poor little love!" CHAPTER XXIII. FORTUNE. Uncle William took the children straight up to London. They spent thenight at a great big hotel, and in the morning he went alone to have along consultation with one of the best detectives in New ScotlandYard. When he returned after this interview, Iris came to meet himwith 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 oftenI get that feel, and whenever I obey it things come right. I have afeel now that I shall be nearer to Diana and to Orion in the oldgarden than anywhere else. I always try to obey my feel. Perhaps it'ssilly, but I can't help it. Do you ever get that sort of feel insideof you, Uncle William?" "If I did, " replied Uncle William, "your Aunt Jane would say that Iwas the silliest old man she had ever come across. " "But you aren't, you know. You are a right good sort, " answeredApollo, 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 itseems to me that it is wanting in air. I once heard a countryman saythat he believed people only breathed turn about in London, and itreally seems something like that this morning. The place is so closeand so used-up that there is not a breath anywhere; so, Iris, if youhave got that feel, and if you will promise not to tell your Aunt Janethat _that_ is your reason for returning to the Manor, why, we mayjust as well do so--only, I suppose, the place is all shut up. " "Fortune, at any rate, is there, " replied Iris; "and if anybody canhelp us to find Diana and Orion, it's Fortune; for she had them, youknow, Uncle William, from the moment the angel brought them down fromheaven. She had to do for them and nurse them, and tend them from thatmoment until Aunt Jane took them away. Oh, yes!" continued Iris; "ifthere 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 anyother, and we shall at least each of us have our proper number ofbreaths at Delaney Manor. That certainly is in favor of the scheme. " Accordingly, that very afternoon, Uncle William, Iris, and Apollo tookthe train into Devonshire. They arrived at the Manor in the evening. Nobody expected them, and the place looked, to Uncle William, atleast, very dull and desolate. But when Iris saw the quaint oldgateway, and when Apollo felt his feet once again upon the well-knownavenue, the sadness of heart which had oppressed both children seemedto lift itself as if it had wings and fly right away. "Let's go to the garden this very instant, " exclaimed Iris, looking ather brother. They clasped each other's hands and, flying along the well-rememberedhaunts, soon reached their favorite garden. "Oh, Apollo! I live; I breathe again, " said Iris, panting as shespoke. "Oh, I am happy once more!" "Let us see if anything has been injured while we were away, " saidApollo. "Oh, I wonder if anybody has watered our pretty gardens. Iplanted a lot of mignonette the day before I went away. I wonder if ithas 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 wateringand general looking after. The cemetery, however, looked much asusual; so also did the greenswards of grass, the roses, the differentsummer flowers; and finally Iris and Apollo visited the littlesummer-house, and seated themselves on their own chairs. "The garden has not run away, " said Apollo. "That's a comfort. I'mreal glad of that. " "It's exactly like the garden of Eden, " said Iris, panting as shespoke. "I don't think anybody, " she continued, "could be naughty inthis garden. " Apollo kicked his legs in a somewhat impatient manner. "I feel dreadfully hungry, Iris, " he said. "Suppose we go to the housenow 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 foundherself clasped in Fortune's motherly arms. "My darling!" said the woman. "Why, it drives me near mad to see youagain. And now, what in the world is up with the two of you, and whereare the others? There's an elderly gentleman--a clergyman--in thehouse, and he said I was to look for you here, and that you were goingto spend the night. What does it mean, Iris? Oh, my dear! I can't seeyour face, for it is too dark; but you are very light. Why, you are noweight at all, my honey. " "I expect I'm rather worn out, " replied Iris, in her old-fashionedtone. "You know, Fortune, when mother went away she told me to be amother to the others, and--oh, Fortune, Fortune! I have failed, I havefailed. " Iris' little arms were clasped tightly round her old nurse's neck; herface was hidden against her bosom; her heavy sobs came thick and fast. "Why, my poor dear, you are exactly like a feather, " said Fortune; "itaint to be expected that a young thing like you could be a mother. Butwhat's gone wrong, dearie? what's gone wrong?" "They are lost. That's what has gone wrong, " said Iris. "Orion andDiana are lost, Fortune. " "Sakes alive, child! stand up and speak proper, " said Fortune. "Yourlittle brother and sister lost! Impossible; you are joking me, Iris, and that aint fair, seeing I was with you since you drew the breathof life. " "Do you think I could joke upon such a subject?" said Iris. "You say Iam like a feather--that is because I have all wasted away from--fromfretting, from--from misery. Yes, Fortune, they are lost, and I wish Iwere dead. I feel it here so dreadfully. " The child pressed both herhands 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 bitalongside 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 goneto some woods not far from that horrid Rectory, but nobody seems toknow for certain--and they just never came back. We missed them attea-time, and we began to look for 'em, and we went on looking fromthat minute until now, and we have never found either of 'em. That'sabout all. They are both quite lost. What I think, " continued thelittle boy, speaking in a wise tone, "is that Diana must have met thegreat Diana of long ago, and gone right away with her, and perhapsOrion has been turned into one of the stars that he's called after. Idon't really know what else to think, " continued Apollo. "Fudge!" said Fortune. "Don't you waste your time talking any moresuch arrant nonsense. Now, the two of you are as cold and shivery ascan be, and I doubt not, as hungry also. Come straight away to thehouse. 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 blessedchildren, or my name's not Fortune Squeers. Did your mother bring meall the way from America to be of no use in an emergency like thepresent? You needn't fret any more, Iris; nor you either, Apollo. Justcome right along to the house and have your cozy, warm supper, the twoof you, and then let me undress you and put you into your old littlebeds, and I'll sleep in the room alongside of you, and in the morningwe'll see about getting back those two children. Lost, is it? Not abit of it. They are mislaid, if you like, but lost they aint--notwhile 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 byday--Aunt Jane was also sure that the children were certain to befound--but, as far as Iris could gather, she only spoke, and never didanything to aid their recovery; for Iris had no faith in detectives, nor secret police, nor any of the known dignitaries of the law. Butshe put the greatest possible faith in the strong, cheery words of herold nurse, and she returned to the house clasping Fortune's hand, andfeeling as if the worst of her troubles were at an end. The greater part of Delaney Manor was shut up, and Fortune and twoother old servants were left in charge; but very soon a comfortablemeal was spread for the travelers, a room was provided for UncleWilliam, and Iris and Apollo slept once more in the dear old nursery. How very sound Iris did sleep that night! How happy she felt oncemore! Fortune had dragged in her bed, and laid it on the floor close to thelittle girl's side, and the sound of Fortune's snores was the sweetestmusic 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 morningwith 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 greatcircus that Uncle William and the two children arrived at DelaneyManor, for Delaney Manor was only five miles distant from theprosperous seaside town of Madersley. Now, Uncle Ben had very little idea, when he brought the two childrento the southwest of England, that he was really taking them back totheir native country. These things, however, are ordered, and thewisest 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 sweetwill at Madersley, and be heard nothing whatever of at Delaney Manor, and these little children might never have been found, and this storymight have had a totally different ending, but for Fortune. When Fortune, however, lay down on her mattress by Iris' side, shethought a great deal before she went to sleep. She thought, as sheexpressed 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 shethought of it in its height, and, having finally settled the matter toher own satisfaction, she went to sleep, and soothed little Iris withthe 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 itthe police are doing? It seems a mighty strange thing to me that twolittle children should be lost in the middle of a civilized countrylike England. " "It seems a stranger thing to me, " replied Uncle William. "I amdreadfully puzzled over the whole matter. We have now four detectivesat work, but up to the present they have not got the slightest clew tothe children's whereabouts. " "As like as not, " said Fortune, "these two have been stolen bygypsies. " "We thought of that at once, " said Uncle William. "Yes, " interrupted Fortune, "and then, when you couldn't make thething 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 aclew we cling on to it as if it were grim death, and we don't let itgo, not for nobody. It's my belief that gypsies are at the bottom ofthe matter, and why have not you and your detectives looked in everygypsy encampment in the length and breadth of England?" "There were some gypsies in our neighborhood, only we did not know itthe first day, " continued Mr. Dolman, "and their camp was of coursethoroughly examined, but no little people in the least resembling thechildren were found there. " "Then of course it goes without saying, " continued Fortune, "that thegypsies 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 wasthe bravest child I ever come across--maybe they was sold to someoneto train 'em to walk on the tight rope. " Uncle William smiled indulgently. "The detectives would certainly have found that out by this time, " hesaid. "Besides, there were no traveling companies of any sort within aradius of quite fifteen miles. " "Very well, " said Fortune; "then, perhaps, sir, you'll allow me tomanage things my own way. I aint a detective, but I'm bent ondetective work for the time being. I'm going straight off to Madersleythis morning. I'm going to have descriptions of those children printedin 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 asthey would any other big place, and folks at this time of year travelfrom far to stay at Madersley, because the place is bracing and thecoast good for bathing. So you see, Mr. Dolman, there'll be lots ofpeople who will read my descriptions, and when they read 'em they'llbegin to talk about the children, and there's no saying what mayhappen. " "It doesn't sound a bad idea, " said Mr. Dolman. "Bad!" repeated Fortune. "It's a first-rate idea; it's an Americanidea. In America we never let the grass grow under our feet. I'm offto Madersley this minute to see after those posters. Why, we post upeverything in America, every single thing that is lost, let alonechildren, and we do it in big type, as big as they make it, and we putthe posters on the walls, and wherever there's a scrap of availablespace. By your leave, sir, I'm off to Madersley now. " Fortune was as good as her word. She not only went to Madersley andinterviewed some of the best printers in the place, but she alsovisited the police station, and told the police to be on the lookout. "For the two youngest little Delaneys are missing, " she said, "andfound they must be, if heaven and earth are moved to accomplish thejob. " The superintendent of police remembered that he had already had noticeof two children being missing somewhere in the North of England, butas he thought it extremely unlikely that such children would come tothe southwest, he had not troubled himself much about them. Fortune'swords, however, stimulated his zeal, and he promised to keep a sharplookout. The printer also was full of enthusiasm, and agreed to printposters which should even satisfy Fortune. He certainly did his best;and a day or two later flaming posters, in red and black ink, werepasted up all over the little town. In these, Fortune had given a mostaccurate description of little black-eyed Diana and Orion. Their ageswere mentioned, their sizes, the color also of their eyes and hair. The immediate effect of these posters was to frighten Uncle Ben Holtconsiderably. He had been in a dreadful rage when first he discoveredthat Diana and Orion had taken him at his word and had decamped. Hehad been very cruel to every member of the troupe, and in especial tohis poor wife. He vowed, and vowed, loudly, that he would not leave astone unturned to find the children, and he also informed his wifethat he would start off the following morning to acquaint the policewith the fact that two of his troupe were missing. "Why, " he said, "there's a fortune in that little gal; I must have thelittle gal. I don't think nothing at all of the boy. She was quite themost sperited little 'un I ever come across. Fact is, I would not loseher for a fifty-pund note. " For two days Uncle Ben stormed, and the performances at the circuswent languidly; but when, on the third morning, he saw the postersabout the town, and when one happened to be pasted up exactly oppositehis 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 faithfuldescription of the children. Why, they are as like what thatdescription 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 arefound and we are discovered to have bought 'em? We had all our plansarranged, and we have taken this field for a fortnight; but, bad asthe loss will be to ourselves, it'll be better than the perlicediscovering that we had anything to do with them children. The fact isthis, 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 runup to Delaney Manor and just give 'em a hint? It seems so dreadful tome if anything should happen to them little kids, more particular tolittle 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. "Doyou want to see me locked up in prison for kidnaping children? No; wemust be out of this to-night, and I must lose the ten pund I paid forthe use of the field. " By this time the news of the posters had spread not only through thewhole town, but amongst the members of Ben Holt's troupe. The men andwomen in the troupe were all interested and excited, and whenever theyhad a spare moment they used to run out to read the poster whichFortune 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 atMadersley ought to have been done before now all over the length andbreadth of England. But now, Miss Iris, having put the posters up, itdoesn't mean that we are to be idle. We have got to do more. I have myeye on that circus. They says it's a very pretty circus indeed, andthere 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, andMaster Apollo going this afternoon to see the performance?" "I don't think I much care, " answered Iris. "I don't seem to take anyinterest in anything just now. " "Well, all the same, dear, I would like you to go. The best of us canbut take steps, and when we has taken the steps that Providence seemsto indicate, there's no use a-fretting ourselves into our graves. Folks are coming to Madersley now from the length and breadth ofEngland, being such a pretty and such a favorite seaside resort. Let'sgo to the circus this afternoon, Miss Iris, and see what is to beseen. " Iris could not follow Fortune's reasonings, but she submitted to herdesire to pay a visit to the traveling circus, and, accordingly, thatafternoon, the very last of Holt's stay at Madersley, two other littleDelaneys entered the large tent and took their places in the frontrow. The children were accompanied both by Uncle William and Fortune. The curtain rose almost immediately after their entrance, and theperformance began. For some reason or other it was sadly lacking in spirit, and aneighbor 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 thething was so poor, " she said. "Why, my husband was here last week andsaid it was downright splendid. But I suppose that was owing to theperformances 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; andthey said the girl rode splendidly, and was the life of the wholething. She was simply wonderful; she----" But here the curtain rose and the performance began anew. Fortunelonged to question her loquacious neighbor, but when she turnedpresently 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 agirl here, had they, and they aren't here no longer. Now I wonder if Ican strike that trail? Being from America it would be hard if Ididn't, and also if I didn't succeed. " CHAPTER XXV. FOUND! When the performance came to an end Fortune suggested to Uncle Williamthat he should go to the best hotel in the place, and give Iris andApollo some tea. Iris was loath to leave Fortune's side, but Fortunebent down and whispered to her to obey. "I am on the trail, " she said, "and I don't want to be interrupted. Idon't mind telling you, Iris, that the tea is all an excuse. You getyour uncle to take you to the hotel, and keep him there until I joinhim. Now, go off this minute, like a good girl. " Iris looked into Fortune's small, but honest, eyes, and felt onceagain 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, " repliedUncle William. He hailed a fly, and took the children immediately to the best hotelin the town. When Fortune found herself alone she turned round, and gazed to rightand left of her. The great tent was almost empty, for the spectatorshad all departed; a few, however, were standing in little groupstalking to one another. Fortune edged near one of these. It consistedof a good-looking young man and two pretty girls. They were standingopposite the poster which gave such a lifelike account of littleDiana and Orion. "I see you are reading that poster, " said Fortune, "and maybe you'reinterested?" "Why, of course we are, " said one of the girls, turning and looking atFortune. "Now, I wonder, " continued Fortune Squeers, "if it lies anywhere inyour power to give me a bit of help? Fact is, I'm interested in thechildren described in that poster, and as I was sitting inside thecircus, I heard a neighbor say that the children belonging to yourshow were not present. Being an American, I never lose any clews, andthere may be just the ghost of a chance that the children who were notat the performance to-day are the very identical same children thatare written about in that there poster. Maybe you has heard of thosechildren--that is, if you are Madersley folk?" "Yes, yes; we are Madersley folk, " said the young man, now turning andspeaking eagerly to Fortune. "Well, sir, do you know anything about the children who were not inthe 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 toldyou we must go and see Holt's circus, for he had got a little girl whowas 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 spiritof 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 thelength of the road to see anything so poor and common. And so thechildren are off--but the children were on. Now, I wish to goodness Icould see those children. " "I don't suppose they have anything to do with the lost children whoare spoken of in these posters, " said the man. "They say they werebrown as gypsies, that the boy was timid, and the girl rodewonderfully. She must have been trained for some time to ride as wellas she did. " Not being able to get anything more out of these folks, Fortune turnedon her heel and wandered in another direction. She crossed theentrance to the great tent, and made for the exit at the opposite sideof 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, ofcourse. You will have to walk quite a way down a country lane, thenturn to your left, and it will bring you to the other side of thetown. " "Fact is, " continued Fortune, "I'm anxious to see some more of thoseposters. I'm mighty took with them. They seem to describe a mostelegant little pair of children. " The girl uttered a sigh and changed color. "Maybe, miss, " said Fortune, fixing her with her keen eyes, "you cantell me something about 'em? Now, if you could, and would, it would beworth your while. " "Oh, I know nothing at all, " said the girl, in alarm. "What should Iknow?" "How is it, " continued Fortune, "that the little children belonging toyour circus were not present this afternoon? It seems a sort ofcheating of the public. " "The little children belonging to our circus?" repeated the girl. "Butwe hasn't no children. " She turned very white now, and suddenlyleaving Fortune, ran as fast as ever she could in the direction of thetent. 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 anAmerican--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 oppositeexit of the field when a light hand was laid on her arm. Turningquickly, she saw the same girl. "For the love of God, madam, " she said, "don't you tell on me--it's asmuch as my place is worth--he would kill me, if he knew--but we hadtwo little kids here, and that poster in front of the circus givestheir very description to a hair. But they have run away--they ranaway 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 'emwhen 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 knowthis: When was it they ran away?" "Three nights ago, madam; and Ben Holt, he's fairly wild at losing thegirl. He doesn't think anything at all about the boy, but the littlegirl--why, she won us all, she was so plucky and fearless. But theyran 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'tkeep me now. " She left the field where the tent was, and began to walk rapidly downthe 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, wantto find those children my very own self? They were here three nightsago, 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 mutteredafter a pause, "it's this: I must not leave Madersley at present. I'lljust go to the hotel and tell Mr. Dolman that I am on the trail, andthat not all the coaxing and all the worriting in the world will getme off it until I have found those children. " No sooner had this resolve formed itself in Fortune's stalwart mindthan she hailed a fly and desired the man to drive her to theMadersley Arms. When she reached the big hotel she was shown at onceinto Mr. Dolman's presence. "Now, sir, " she said; "I hope you have all had a good tea and enjoyedit. " "Very much, thank you, " replied Uncle William, who really, if thetruth must be known, was having quite a delightful time--no Aunt Janeto pull him up, no sermons to write, and a vast amount of variety tooccupy his mind. "We have enjoyed our tea, all of us, " he said; "andnow, Fortune, would not you like a cup? Iris, my dear, we'll ring thebell for some more hot water. " "Thank you, sir" replied Fortune; "but I have no time to eat nor drinkat 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 wewent to see to-day! I had my suspicions as soon as ever I heard thatwoman talking and saying that the performance was miserably poorwithout the children. At that very instant it came right over me thatit was our little Miss Di who had made things so sparkling andlively. " "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 beexercised always in the matter of trails, " continued Fortune; "andwhen we hurry or flurry ourselves we lose the scent, and then we arenowhere. The children did belong to the circus, for I had it from thelips of one of the circus girls. Poor innocent lambs, to think of themhaving anything to do with such a defiling place! But there theywere, and there they would not stay, for three nights ago, Iris, theyran away, and nobody in the wide world knows where they are at thepresent 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 tobring 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 meanto bring the little dears back to their rightful home to-night. Andnow I'm off, and please expect me when you see me. " Fortune turned abruptly and left the hotel. She walked down the HighStreet. "Now, " she said to herself, "why should not I just go and pay a visitto my old friend and neighbor, Matty Bell. I want a woman that is agossip 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 timeswhen a gossiping woman comes in handy; and Matty's neither very lownor very high up in the world, so she's acquainted with all that goeson in both circles, the high and the low. Yes, I'll go to Matty thisvery moment; and as there's not any time to lose, I'll take a fly anddrive there. " Fortune hailed the first fly she came across, and was quickly borne tothe abode of her old neighbor, Matty Bell. Matty Bell was a woman of about sixty years of age. At one time shehad been a servant at Delaney Manor, but having married, and then losther husband, she had set up in the laundry line. In that interestingtrade she had done a thriving business, and kept a comfortable roofover her head. She had never had children, and consequently had plentyof time to attend to her neighbors' affairs. "Well, to be sure, Fortune, and what brings you here?" she said, whenFortune alighted from the fly. "Dear heart! I didn't know that youwould care to leave Delaney Manor with all the troubles about. " "And what troubles do you mean now, Matty Bell?" said Fortune, as shepaid a shilling to the driver, and then tripped lightly into Matty'slittle front parlor. "Why, the death of the poor missus, Heaven bless her memory! and thenthe master going off to the other end of nobody knows where, and allthem blessed little children took from their home and carried--oh, weneedn't go into that, Fortune--it's been a trouble to you, and I seeit writ on your face. " "You are right there, Matty, " said Fortune; "it has been a bittertrouble to me, and there's more behind, for the lady who took thechildren had no right to interfere, not having a mother's heart in herbreast, for all that Providence granted her five babes of her own tomanage. What do you think she went and did, Matty? Why, lost two ofour children. " "Lost two of 'em? Sakes alive! you don't say so!" replied Matty. "Havea 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--butthere, perhaps I had better not say--only will you excuse me for aminute or two, Fortune?" "I'll excuse you, Matty, if you are on the trail of the children, butif 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 pickedup news. Yes, I see you have--you have got something at the back ofyour head this blessed minute, Matty Bell. " "That I have, " replied Mrs. Bell. "But please don't ask me a wordmore, only let me get on my bonnet and cloak. " Mrs. Bell left the room, and quickly returned dressed in her widow'sweeds, for though Bell had been dead for over ten years, his widow wasstill faithful to his memory; she slipped a thick crêpe veil over herface, and went out, looking the very essence of respectability. Shewas not more than twenty minutes away, and when she came back shelooked much excited. On each of her smooth, pasty cheeks might even beseen a little flush of color, and her dull blue eyes were brighterthan 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 ofMadersley--he drives a milk cart. He found the two little dears threemornings ago, wandering about in their circus dresses, and he took 'emhome. " "Well, " said Fortune, "well--then _that's_ all right. It was atrouble, but it's over, thank the good God. I could fall on my kneesthis moment and offer up a prayer; that I could, Matty Bell. " Fortune's small, twinkling eyes were full of tears; she caught herneighbor's hand and wrung it hard. "And I bless you, Matty, " she continued, "for you have put me on theright trail. I'll never blame a gossiping neighbor again, never aslong as I live. " "But you haven't heard me out to the end, " said Matty, "for one of thelittle 'uns is very ill. You have found 'em, it is true; but it isn'tall 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 sayshe fell on her head out of a ring at the circus, and she must havehurt 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, tiedher bonnet-strings, and followed her neighbor out of the house. The Darlings' humble little domicile happened to be in the nextstreet, and in less than five minutes Fortune was standing over littleDiana's bed. The child was tossing from side to side, her big eyeswere wide open; she was gazing straight before her, talking eagerlyand incessantly. "Is it to be a pwivate funeral?" she said, when Fortune entered theroom, and, falling on her knees, clasped the hot little hands in hers. "Oh, my little darling!" said the good woman, "and have I really foundyou at last?" She sank down by the child and burst into more bitter tears than shehad 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. Theblow she had received on her head had developed into inflammation ofthe brain. She was highly feverish, and did not in the least know whatshe 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 thenext room and asked Mrs. Darling if she would take a fly and go withlittle 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 hereto look after Diana. " The little boy was so excited at the prospect of being home once morethat he forgot any small anxieties which he had experienced withregard to Diana. He started off, therefore, with Mrs. Darling in thehighest spirits, and Fortune returned to the bedside of the sickchild. Within a couple of hours after Orion's departure, Mr. Dolmanarrived in person. When he saw Diana he immediately insisted on thebest 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 herbeing moved at present. She must have absolute quiet and goodnursing. " "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 thebedside. No one could look more capable, more determined, than theAmerican woman did on this occasion. The doctor saw that he must giveway. "Haven't I done for her from the blessed moment when she was sent fromheaven into her mother's arms?" continued Fortune. "I shall nurse hernow, 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 atFortune, and raised her brow in a puzzled manner. "I aren't fwightened of G'eased Lightning, " she said. A smile brokeover her little face, then the light of reason once more faded, andshe entered the dark region of delirium and danger. The doctor did all he could and Fortune did all she could, andpresently Aunt Jane appeared on the scene, and insisted on seeing thechild, and shook her head over her and cried a little privately; but, in spite of all their efforts to get her well again, little Dianagrew weaker, day by day. She did not know Fortune, except at veryrare intervals. Day and night she talked incessantly of her past life, of the beautiful garden, of the animals, of Rub-a-Dub, and moreespecially of Rub-a-Dub's public funeral. She also mentioned GreasedLightning and Pole Star, and Uncle Ben and the circus; but when shetalked of them her voice changed; it grew high, eager, and excited, and her little breath panted out of her weary body. She often endedher delirious talk with a cry of distress. "Oh, I has fallen, " she said, with a sob. "I has fallen from thewing. " Then she would clasp both her hot hands to her aching head, andmoan bitterly. The doctor was very anxious about her, and Fortune was very sad, andso was Uncle William, and even Aunt Jane. The cablegram was sent to father, and they all earnestly hoped that hewas already on his homeward way. Meanwhile, at the Manor, Iris, Apollo, and Orion had a hard time. Itis true that they were no longer fettered or coerced in any way. AuntJane took scarcely any notice of them, and Uncle William spent most ofhis time alone. The three children could come in and out of the houseas they pleased; they could wander about the garden where four used toplay 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 theold days seemed quite to have left the remaining three. As time went by, Iris grew whiter and whiter. Often she wandered awayby herself, and flinging herself on the ground, would moan out herdistress. "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 Dianadies, I am certain that I shall never forgive myself. " At last, when a fortnight had passed by, Iris had a dream. She nevertold her dream to anyone, but she got up that morning with a verydetermined expression on her small face. After breakfast she wentstraight downstairs to the library, and spoke to Uncle William. "Uncle William, " she said, "I want to say that I am going to seeDiana. " "My dear, " said Uncle William, who was furtively at that moment wipinga tear from his eye, "I greatly fear that you cannot do so; we havehad bad news of little Diana this morning. I greatly fear, Iris, thatshe will not be long with us; her strength is going, and there islittle chance of the fever abating. The doctor has but a small hope ofher 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 mesee her yet, " continued Iris; "but I am going to her to-day. I had adream last night, " she continued, "and in my dream I--But I'm notgoing 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. Shestarted now when she heard her voice; but reading the expression onher 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 howdelicate Iris is already, and the sight of her little sister wouldshock her dreadfully. " "She may just as well go, " said Aunt Jane. "In my opinion, it would bewrong to leave any stone unturned, and Iris always had a remarkableinfluence over the other children. Besides, my dear William, whenDavid comes back, I should not like Iris to have to tell him that Irefused 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 wentacross the room and rang the bell. "Desire the pony carriage to be sent round directly, " was her order tothe servant when he appeared. Accordingly, in less than half an hour, Iris and Aunt Jane weredriving into Madersley. They went straight to the humble house wherethe Darlings lived. The greater part of the house was given up tolittle Diana and her nurse. "Please, Aunt Jane, " said Iris, as they approached the door; "may I gointo Diana's room by myself? I don't want anyone to be with me when Isee 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 heraunt; all her thoughts were centered on the mission which she hadtaken in hand. When the carriage drew up at the humble door, thechild ran straight into the house. "Who may you be, little miss?" said Bessie Darling, who had never seenher 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 poorlittle mite, you look as if you wanted a deal of mothering yourself. " "Please tell me what room my sister is in, " said Iris, removing herhat 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 downto keep out the glare of the sun; there was a quantity of ice in agreat 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 sickchild'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 allthe voices which for weeks had sounded in little Diana's ears. She waslying 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; greatexcitement only accentuated her quiet. She knelt down at once by thesick child, and took both her hot hands in hers. "Darling, " she said, "I am your little mother, and I have come back toyou. " "That's beautiful, " answered Diana. She uttered a very deep sigh. Shehad been tossing restlessly about, but now her hot hands lay quiet inIris'. 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 yourlittle mother, and I wish you to go to sleep. " "It's awfu' nice to be mothered again, " said Diana. She opened hereyes languidly, fixed them on Iris, smiled once more, and then thethick lashes fell over the pale cheeks. In about five minutes she wassound asleep. Little Diana had often slept during the past fortnight, but during allthat 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 alow whisper. Iris shook her head. Soon afterwards Fortune softly left the room, and then there fell adeep and solemn silence over the little house. Aunt Jane, Bessie Darling, and Fortune all sat in the outer room. Theheat grew greater; they opened both door and window, and a gentlebreeze now blew through the sick-room. The child slept on. The littlemother kneeling by her side remained as still as if she was carved inmarble. 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 downhere this morning quite unbidden, and she told the little one that shewas her mother, and the little one smiled and went off sound asleepdirectly. " The doctor, too, retreated into the outer room. "It is my belief that the little girl has saved the child's life, " hesaid. "Whatever you do, don't make a sound; my little patient has notslept like this since the beginning of her illness. This sleep willprobably be the turning-point. I shall not be far off; send for mewhenever she awakens. " The day wore on, the evening approached; and Iris still knelt byDiana's side, and Diana still slept. The sick child had no dreams inthat healthful, beautiful, life-restoring slumber. Slowly, hour byhour, the fret and the worry left the little face, the burning feverdeparted, the little brow grew cool and calm; smiles--babysmiles--came once more round the lips; the old child-look--the oldDiana-look--returned. Iris knelt on. Her knees ached, her arms ached, her head ached; shegrew stiff; she grew first hot and then cold; but never once did shemove or swerve from her original position. The great joy of her spiritsupported her through the terrible ordeal. At long, long last she wasreally a little mother; she was saving Diana's life. Now and then Fortune approached to hold a cup of milk or otherrestorative to Iris' pale lips. She feared that the child might faintbefore Diana awoke. But great love enabled Iris to go through thistime of suffering. She neither fainted nor failed. The beautiful healing sleep lasted for nearly eight hours; then, whenfaint, cool shadows had stolen across the sick room, little Dianaopened her eyes. She saw Iris still kneeling in the same position andlooking at her with a world of love in her face. Diana smiled back inanswer to the love. "I's k'ite well, Iris, " she said. "I's had a beaut'ful s'eep, andthere'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 sherecovered, slowly but surely. Iris was allowed to be with her a gooddeal, and the mere fact of Iris being in the room always seemed tochase the irritation and the weakness of that long recovery away. Atthe end of a fortnight the sick child was well enough to return toDelaney Manor. Then, from being half well she became quite well, andwhen the autumn really came, and the cool breezes blew in from thesea, father returned to his home once more, and he and Aunt Jane had along talk, and it was finally arranged that the four children were toremain in the old home, and were to play in the old garden, and thatfather was to stay at home himself and look after them as best hecould. "They are not ordinary children, and I frankly confess I cannot managethem, " said Aunt Jane. "As to Iris, she is without exception the mostpeculiar child I ever came across; I know, of course, she is a goodchild--I would not say a word to disparage her, for I admire herstrength--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--thosewere Evangeline's last words to her. Well, Jane, it is a heavy burdenfor such a little creature to carry, but the fact of her obeying hermother's last injunction really saved little Diana's life. " THE END.