"Oh, dear me, Di! I think you are the queerest little thing in the world," said Apollo. "But now, look here," he added, "I am older than you, and I know that what you are thinking about is very wrong. I can't make you a bow and arrow to do that sort of thing."

Diana looked bitterly disappointed. She could master, or she fancied she could master, Aunt Jane, Simpson, and Miss Ramsay, but she knew well, from past experience, that she could not master Apollo.

"What is to be done?" she said. She thought for a long time. "Would not you like a bow and arrow just all your own, to shoot at the twees with?" she asked at last artfully.

"Oh, I have no objection to that!" answered Apollo. "It seems right that I should have one; does it not, Di? But of course I would never do any mischief with it. Why, little thing, you have been talking the most awful rot."

"Well, you can make a bow and arrow for your very own self," said Diana.

"I don't see why I shouldn't, but you'll have to promise—"

"Oh, I won't make pwomises!" said Diana. "Why should I make pwomises about your bow and arrows? I'll help you to make 'em. Do let me, Apollo!"

Apollo seemed suddenly smitten with the idea. After all, it would be fine to make a bow and arrow, and to try to shoot things in the wood. How lovely it would be if he succeeded in shooting a rabbit; he would certainly have a try. Accordingly, he rose and climbed into the lower branches of an elm tree, and cut down a long, smooth young bough, and, descending again to the ground, began to peel the bark off. When this was done, Diana produced some more string out of her pocket, and a very creditable bow was the result.

"Now, the arrow," said the little girl.

"We must get some strong wood for that," said Apollo, "something that won't split. I'll just walk about and look around me." He did so, and soon found a stick suitable for his purpose. He sat down again and began whittling away. Very soon a fairly sharp arrow was the result. "Of course it ought to be tipped," said Apollo, "but we have nothing to tip it with. It is lucky that the wood is hard, and so it is really sharp. Now, shall I have a few shots with it?"

"Please do, Apollo. Oh, how 'licious it all is! Don't you feel just as if you was a heathen god?"

"I wish I were," said Apollo, throwing back his head. "Oh, Di, how hot it is in the wood! What wouldn't I give to be back in the dear old garden again?"

"Maybe we'll go soon," said Diana; "maybe they won't want to keep us if—" But here she shut up her little mouth firmly.

Apollo was too much excited about the bow and arrows to think of Diana's remarks. He stood up and began to practice shooting.

"You is doing it beautiful," said Diana, applauding his extremely poor efforts. "Now, twy again. Think that you has lived long, long ago, and that you is shotting things for our dinner."

The arrow went wide of the mark, the arrow went everywhere but where it ought to. Diana clapped and laughed and shouted, and Apollo thought himself the finest archer in the world.

"Now, let me have a teeny turn," she said.

"To be sure I will," he replied good-naturedly. He showed her how to place the arrow, and she made one or two valiant attempts to send it flying through the wood.

"It is hard," she panted; "the arrow don't seem even to make the least little pwick. Now, I want to shoot stwaight at that oak twee, or would you mind awfu', Apollo, if I was to shoot at you?"

"All right," replied Apollo; "you may aim at my hand, if you like." He walked about a dozen yards away and held up his hand.

Diana made valiant efforts, and grew crimson in the face, but the arrow still went wide of the mark.



CHAPTER XI.

JOG'APHY.

The next day lessons began with a vengeance. It was one thing for the four Delaney children to work with Miss Stevenson at the old Manor House. Lessons in mother's time were rather pleasant than otherwise; as often as not they were conducted in the garden, and when the day happened to be very hot, and the little people somewhat impatient of restraint, Miss Stevenson gave them a certain amount of liberty; but lessons at the Rectory were an altogether different matter. Miss Ramsay, when she awoke the next day, had seemed emphatically to have put on all her armor. During the holiday, neither Orion nor Diana, neither Apollo nor Iris, thought Miss Ramsay of any special account. They stared a good deal at Uncle Dolman, and they watched Aunt Jane with anxious eyes, but Miss Ramsay did not matter, one way or the other. The next day, however, they came to have a totally different opinion with regard to her.

At breakfast, on the following morning, whenever Diana opened her rosebud lips, she was told that she must not speak unless she could do so in the French tongue. Now, all that Diana could manage to say in French was 'Oui' and 'Non,' nor was she very certain when to say either of these very simple words. She hated being silent, for she was a very talkative, cheery little body, except when she was angry. Accordingly, the meal was a depressing one, and Diana began to yawn and to look wearily out on the sunshiny garden before it was half-finished. But, of course, there was no play in the garden for any of the children that morning. Immediately after breakfast they all went up to the schoolroom. Now, the schoolroom was a very pleasant room, nicely and suitably furnished, but in summer it was hot, and on very sunshiny days it was painfully hot; its single large bay window faced due south, and the sun poured in relentlessly all during the hours of morning school. Miss Ramsay, seated at the head of the baize-covered table with her spectacles on, looked decidedly formidable, and each of the children gazed at their governess with anxious eyes. Mary and Lucy were always good little girls, but Philip and Conrad were as idle as boys could possibly be, and did their utmost to evade Miss Ramsay's endeavors to instill learning into their small heads. Orion sat between his two little boy cousins, but for some reason or other Orion did not look well that morning. His little face, not unlike Diana's in appearance, was bloated, his eyes were heavy, he had scarcely touched his breakfast, and he earnestly, most earnestly longed to get out of the hot schoolroom.

Miss Ramsay, when all the little people were seated round her, knocked sharply on the table with her ruler, and proceeded to make a speech. "My dear old pupils," she said, looking at the five little Dolmans as she spoke, "on account of your cousins, who, I fear, are ignorant little children, I mean on this occasion to speak to you in the English tongue. I have now got nine pupils to instruct, and nine pupils are a great many for one person to teach. Your mother, however, has promised that the master from the village shall come up to instruct you all in arithmetic, and your French master and your music master will, of course, attend here as usual. I trust, therefore, that by more attention on the part of my pupils I may be able to continue the heavy task which I have undertaken. What I want to impress upon you children"—here she turned abruptly to the little Delaneys—"is that lessons are lessons, and play is play. During lesson-time I allow no wandering thoughts, I allow no attempts at shirking your duties. The tasks I set you will be carefully chosen according to your different abilities, and I can assure you beforehand that learned they must be. If I find that they are not carefully prepared I shall punish you. By being attentive, by making the best of your time, you can easily get through the lessons appointed you, and then when they are over I hope you will thoroughly enjoy your time of play. Now, all of you sit quiet. We will begin with a lesson from English history."

Miss Ramsay then began to lecture in her usual style. She was really an excellent teacher, and Iris found what she said very interesting. She began to tell about the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and she made that time quite live to the intelligent little girl. But Apollo had not nearly come to the reign of Elizabeth in his English history. He, consequently, could not follow the story, and soon began to look out of the window, and to count the flies which were buzzing in the hot sunshine on the window-panes. When Miss Ramsay addressed a sudden question to him he was unable to reply. She passed it on to Ann, who instantly gave the correct answer. But Apollo felt himself to be in his governess' black books. As this was the first morning of lessons, she was not going to be severe, and, telling the little boy to take his history away to another table, desired him to read it all carefully through.

"I will question you to-morrow about what I told you to-day," she said. "Now, remember, you must tell me the whole story of the Spanish Armada to-morrow."

"But I have not gone farther than the reign of John," said Apollo.

"Don't answer me, Apollo," said Miss Ramsay; "you are to read this part of your history book. Now, sit with your back to the others and begin."

Apollo shrugged his shoulders. For a short time he made an effort to read his dull history, but then once again his eyes sought the sunshine and the flies on the window panes.

Meanwhile Diana, Orion, and the two little Dolman boys were in a class by themselves, busily engaged over a geography lesson.

Diana had not the smallest wish to become acquainted with any portion of the globe where she was not herself residing. Her thoughts were all full of the bow and arrow which Apollo had carefully hidden in a little dell at the entrance of the wood, on the previous night. She was wondering when she could run off to secure the prize, and when she would have an opportunity of punishing her enemies. She began to think that it would be really necessary to give Miss Ramsay a prick with the fatal arrow. Miss Ramsay was turning out to be most disagreeable.

Meanwhile, the heat of the room, and a curious giddy sensation in her head, caused it to sink lower and lower, until finally it rested on her book, and little Diana was off in the land of dreams.

A sharp tap on her shoulders roused her with a start. Miss Ramsay was standing over her, looking very angry.

"Come, Diana! this will never do," she cried. "How dare you go to sleep! Do you know your geography?"

"P'ease, I doesn't know what jog-aphy is," said Diana.

"What a very naughty little girl you are! Have not I been taking pains to explain it all to you? You will have to stay in the schoolroom when lessons are over for quite five minutes. Now, stand up on your chair, hold your book in your hands, don't look out of the window, keep your eyes fixed on your book, and then you will soon learn what is required of you."

Diana obeyed this mandate with a very grave face.

In about ten minutes Miss Ramsay called her to her side.

"Well, do you know your lesson?" she asked.

"Kite perfect," replied Diana.

"Well, let me hear you. What is the capital of England?"

"Dublin Bay," replied Diana, with avidity.

"You are a very naughty child. How can you tell me you know your lesson? See, I will ask you one more question. What is the capital of Scotland?"

"Ireland," answered Diana, in an earnest voice.

Miss Ramsay shut the book with a bang. Diana looked calmly at her.

"I thought I knew it," she said. "I's sossy. I don't think I care to go on learning jog-aphy; it don't suit me." She stretched herself, gave utterance to a big yawn, and half turned her back on her teacher. "You is getting in temper," she continued, "and that isn't wight; I don't care to learn jog-aphy."

What serious consequences might not have arisen at that moment it is hard to tell, had not Orion caused a sudden diversion. He fell off his chair in a heap on the floor.

Iris sprang from her seat and ran to the rescue.

"I'm drefful sick," said Orion; "I think it was the lollipops and ginger-beer. Please let me go to bed."

"Lollipops and ginger-beer!" cried Miss Ramsay in alarm. "What does the child mean?"



CHAPTER XII.

A BABY'S HONOR.

When Miss Ramsay repeated Orion's words there was a dead silence for a full half minute in the schoolroom. Had anyone noticed them, they might have observed Philip and Conrad turn very pale; but all eyes were directed to little Orion, who was lying on the floor, pressing his hand to his stomach and moaning bitterly.

"I'm drefful sick," he said; "I wish I had not taken that horrid ginger-beer."

"But where did you get ginger-beer?" said Miss Ramsay, finding her voice at last. "Get up this minute, Orion, and come to me.

"Really," continued the good lady to herself, "there must be something uncanny in those outlandish names; I don't think I can manage these children. Orion is as bad as Diana, and she is the greatest handful I ever came across.

"Come here, Orion," continued the governess, "and tell me what is the matter with your stomach."

"Pain," answered the little boy, "crampy pain. It's the ginger-beer. I'm drefful sick; I can't do no more lessons."

"Let me put him to bed," said Diana; "let me go nurse him. I'll sit on his bed and talk to him. He is a very naughty boy, but I know how to manage him. Come 'long, Orion; come 'long wid sister Di." She grasped the little boy firmly with one of her own stout little hands, and pulled him up on to his feet.

"Diana, you are not to interfere," said Miss Ramsay. "Come, Orion; come and explain what is the matter."

"Lollipops," moaned Orion, "and ginger-beer. Oh, I did like the lollipops, and I was so thirsty I thought I'd never leave off drinking ginger-beer."

"But where did you get lollipops and ginger-beer? Mrs. Dolman never allows the children to take such unwholesome things. What can you mean? Where did you get them?"

To this question Orion refused to make any reply. Baby as he was, he had a confused sort of idea of honor. Philip and Conrad had told him that he was on no account whatever to mention the fact that they had gone away fishing on the previous afternoon, that they had visited a little shop and spent some of Orion's own money. Philip and Conrad had no money of their own, but before he parted with the children, Mr. Delaney had given the two elder ones five shillings apiece, and the two younger ones half a crown, and Orion's half-crown had seemed great wealth to Philip and Conrad, and had accordingly induced them to treat the little fellow with marked consideration. The whole of the money was now gone. How, Orion had not the slightest idea. He only knew that his pockets were empty and that he felt very sick and very miserable.

He shut up his little lips now and raised his eyes, with a sort of scowl in their expression, to Miss Ramsay's face.

"Where did you get the lollipops and ginger-beer?" repeated the governess.

"That's my own business," said Orion. "I'm drefful sick; I want to go to bed."

"You are a very naughty little boy," said Miss Ramsay.

"I think him a brick," whispered Philip to Conrad.

"Hush, for goodness' sake!" whispered back Conrad.

"I want to go to bed," repeated Orion. "I'm drefful sick; I'm quite tired of telling you. I have got a headache and a pain in my tumtum." Again he pressed his hand to his stomach and looked imploringly around him.

"What's all this fuss?" here burst from Diana. "Why can't Orion go to bed? New teacher, you has a very queer way of managing sildrens. When we was at home we went to bed when we had pains. I can't underland you, not one little bit."

"Come with me this moment, Orion," said Miss Ramsay. "Diana, if you speak a word except in the French tongue, you shall be kept in during all the afternoon."

Orion and Miss Ramsay left the room, and the other children stared at one another. The three Dolman girls sat down to their books. Philip and Conrad thought it best to follow their example. Iris and Apollo looked wistfully from one to the other, but did not dare to speak; but Diana, walking boldly over to the nearest window, amused herself by touching each fly in turn with the tip of her small fat finger.

"They don't like it, poor darlin's," she said to herself, "but I don't mean to hurt 'em. I wonder now if I could get away to the wood and get hold of my bow and arrow. Miss Wamsay must be shotted as well as the others. It's awful what I has got to do."

Apollo sank dejectedly down before the account of the Spanish Armada, and Iris, with tears slowly rising to her eyes, turned over her lesson books. At last the impulse to do something was more than she could stand, and, rising from her seat, she edged her way to the door. Mary called after her in French to know what she was going to do, but Iris would make no reply. She reached the door, opened it, and then ran as fast as she could to the nursery.

There she found Simpson putting Orion to bed. The little boy was crying bitterly.

"As soon as ever you lie down, master, you have got to drink off this medicine," said Simpson.

"I won't touch it—horrid stuff!" said Orion.

"But you must, sir. I'll allow no 'won'ts' in my nursery. Little boys have got to do what they are told. If you make any fuss I'll just hold your nose and then you'll be obliged to open your mouth, and down the medicine will go. Come, come, sir, none of those tears. You have been a very naughty little boy, and the pain is sent you as a punishment."

"Oh, there you are, Iris!" said Orion. "Oh, Iris! I am so glad. Please be a mother to me—please put your arms round me—please kiss me, Iris."

Iris flew to the little fellow, clasped him in her arms, and held his hot little forehead against her cheek.

"Simpson," she said, turning to the nurse, "I know quite well how to manage him. Won't you let me do it?"

"I am sure, Miss Iris, I'd be only too thankful," said the perplexed woman. "There's Miss Ramsay and my mistress in no end of a state, and Master Orion as obstinate as a boy can be. There's something gone wrong in this house since you four children arrived, and I really don't know how I am to stand it much longer. Not that I have any special fault to find with you, Miss Iris, nor, indeed, for that matter, with Master Apollo; but it's the two younger ones. They are handfuls, and no mistake."

"I like being a handfu' 'cept when I'm sick," said Orion. "I don't want to be a handfu' to-day. Please, Iris, don't mek me take that horrid medicine."

"He must take it, Miss Iris; he won't be better till he do," said the nurse, lifting up the glass as she spoke and stirring the contents with a spoon. "Come, now, sir, be a brave boy. Just open your mouth and get it down. Then you'll drop asleep, and when you wake you will probably be quite well."

Orion pressed his lips very tightly together.

"You'll take the medicine for me, Orion?" said Iris.

"No, I can't," he moaned.

"Oh, but, darling! just try and think. Remember you are a giant—a grand, great giant, with your girdle and your sword, and this medicine is just an enemy that you have got to conquer. Here now; open your mouth and get it down. Think of mother, Orion. She would like you to take it."

Orion still kept his mouth very firmly shut, but he opened his sweet, dark eyes and looked full at his sister.

"Would mother really like it?" he said at last, in a whisper.

"Of course; it would make her ever so happy."

"And will she know about it, Iris?"

"I think she will. Maybe she is in the room with us just now."

"Oh, lor'! what awful talk to say to the child," murmured Simpson to herself.

"If I really thought mother could see, and if I really thought—" began the little boy.

"Yes, yes, she can see!" said Iris, going on her knees and clasping both the little fellow's hands in one of hers. "She can see, she does know, and she wants her own brave giant to be a giant to the end. Now, here is the enemy; open your mouth, conquer it at one gulp."

"Well, to be sure," whispered Simpson.

Orion, however, did not glance at Simpson. He gazed solemnly round the room as if he really saw someone; then he fixed his brown eyes on his sister's face, then he opened his mouth very wide. She instantly took the cup and held it to the little lips. Orion drained off the nauseous draught and lay back, panting, on his pillow.

"It was a big thing to conquer. I am a fine giant," he said, when he returned the empty cup to Iris.

"Yes, you are a splendid old chap," she replied.

At that moment Mrs. Dolman and Miss Ramsay entered the room.

"Has Orion taken his medicine?" said Mrs. Dolman. "Iris, my dear, what are you doing here?"

"I am very sorry, Aunt Jane," replied Iris, "but I had to come. He would never have taken his medicine but for me. I had to remind him—"

"To remind him of his duty. He certainly wanted to be reminded. So he has taken the medicine. I am glad of that; but all the same, Iris, you did very wrong to leave the schoolroom."

"Please forgive me this one time, Aunt Jane."

"I really think Iris does try to be a good child," interrupted Miss Ramsay.

"And she certainly can manage her little brother, ma'am," said Simpson, speaking for the first time. "He would not touch his medicine for me—no, not for anything I could do; but he drank it off when Miss Iris talked some gibberish, all about giants and belts and swords."

"'Tisn't gibberish," said Orion, starting up from his pillow; "it's the truest thing in all the world. I am a giant, and I has got a belt and a sword. You can look up in the sky on starful nights and you can see me. 'Tisn't gibberish."

"Well, lie down now, child, and go to sleep. I am afraid he is a bit feverish, ma'am."

"No, that I aren't," said Orion. "Only I'm drefful sick," he added.

"Listen to me, Orion," said Mrs. Dolman, seating herself on the edge of the bed and gazing very sternly at the little fellow. "I intend to wring a confession out of you."

"What's to wring?" asked Orion.

"I am going to get you to tell me where you got the lollipops and ginger-beer."

"I promised not to tell, and I aren't going to," answered Orion.

"But you must. I insist."

"Perhaps, Aunt Jane," said Iris, "I could get him to tell. You see he is not accustomed to—not accustomed to——" Her little face turned crimson.

"What do you mean, Iris? Do you object to the way I speak to this child?"

"Mother never spoke to him like that," said Iris.

"And oh! it is so hot, and he is not well, and I think I can manage him. I may get him to tell me."

"Yes, I'll tell you," said Orion, "'cos you'll be faithful."

"Well, really," said Mrs. Dolman, "I am absolutely perplexed. I suppose I must give in on this occasion, or that child will be really ill, and I by no means wish to have the expense of a doctor. Miss Ramsay, you and I had better leave that little pair together. You can remain with Orion until dinner-time, Iris."

"Thank you very much indeed, Aunt Jane," replied Iris.

That day at dinner Iris looked very grave. Orion was better, but was not present. Mrs. Dolman waited until the meal had come to an end, then she called the little girl to her side.

"Now, my dear Iris, what is all this mystery?" she asked.

"Orion has told me all about it, Aunt Jane, but I don't think I'll tell. Please don't ask me."

"My dear. I insist upon knowing."

"It was not his fault, Aunt Jane, and I am almost sure he will never do it again; he is very sorry indeed. I think he will try to be good in future."

Mrs. Dolman was about to reply angrily, when a sudden memory came over her. She recalled words her brother had used.

"I will give you the children," he had said, "but you must try to be gentle with them."

She looked at Iris now, and did not speak for nearly a minute.

"Very well," she said then; "you are a queer child, but I am inclined to trust you. Only please understand that if ever there is any misconduct in the future, I shall insist on knowing everything."

"I am greatly obliged to you, Aunt Jane. I could love you for being so kind. I will promise that Orion never does anything of that sort again."

The children all filed out of the dining room. They had now, according to the rule of the day, to return to the schoolroom and lie down for an hour. This part of the daily programme was intensely distasteful to the little Dolmans, and certainly the Delaneys did not appreciate it a bit better, but at long last the wearisome lessons were over, and the little people were free.

The moment they got into the garden Philip and Conrad might have been seen scudding away as fast as their little feet could carry them. Iris, however, had watched them disappearing.

"I want to speak to the boys," she said to Ann.

"Why?" asked Ann.

"Please ask them to come to me, Ann; I have something most particular to say to them."

"I know what you mean," answered Ann, turning crimson; "it was Philip and Conrad who got poor little Orion into mischief. Oh, Iris! it was brave of you, and it was brave of Orion not to tell. I wondered how you had the courage to defy mamma."

"I did not defy her," answered Iris. "But please, Ann, I must speak to the boys. Send them to me at once."

"They are frightened, and are going to hide," said Ann; "but I'll soon get them," she answered. "I know their ways."

After a minute or two she returned, leading Philip and Conrad by the hands.

"Iris wants to talk to you," she said to them.

"Yes," said Iris, "I want to say something to you by yourselves."

Ann disappeared.

"I love Iris," whispered little Ann Dolman to herself. "I think she is beautiful; and how brave she is! I wish I were like her."

"What do you want with us, Iris?" asked Philip, when he found himself alone with his cousin. He raised defiant eyes, and put on an ugly little scowl.

"I want to tell you, Phil," said Iris, "that I know everything. Poor little Orion would not confess, because you got him to promise not to tell; but, of course, he told me the truth. Don't you think you behaved very badly indeed?"

"We don't want you to lecture us," said Conrad.

"All right," replied Iris with spirit. "But please remember that I promised Orion I would not tell, only so long as you make me a promise that you will not tempt him again. If ever I hear that you have led Orion into mischief, I will tell everything."

"I thought you looked like a tell-tale," said Conrad.

"No, I am not, nor is Orion; you know better, both of you. Now, please understand that I will not have Orion made miserable nor tempted to do naughty things. Aunt Jane thinks you are good boys, and she thinks Diana and Orion very bad little children; but neither Orion nor Diana would do the sort of thing you both did yesterday. Neither of them would think of that sort of naughtiness. I call it mean."

Iris walked away with her head in the air. The boys gazed after her with a queer sinking of heart.



CHAPTER XIII.

BIRCH ROD.

Orion speedily recovered from his bad fit of indigestion, and matters began to shake down a little in the schoolroom and nursery. No one meant to be unkind to the little Delaneys; and although all things were changed for them, in some ways both Iris and Apollo were all the better for the strict and vigorous discipline they were now undergoing. Iris really enjoyed her lessons, and when Apollo found that he had no chance of going to school, and of being with "fellows," as he expressed it, until he had conquered certain difficult tasks which Miss Ramsay set him, he began, for his own sake, to apply himself to his lessons. He was a bright, clever little chap, and when he tried to understand his governess' method of teaching, he did his work fairly well. But Diana and Orion were much too young for the somewhat severe transplantation which had taken place in their little lives. Had Iris been allowed to be with them matters might not have grown quite so bad, but she was much occupied with her lessons, and the younger children spent the greater part of their time alone.

Philip and Conrad were afraid to make any further advances to Orion. In consequence, he had no companion near his own age, except Diana, and Diana's little heart, day by day, was growing fuller of insubordinate and angry feelings. She was not at all by nature an unforgiving little child, but the want of petting and the severe life which she was obliged to lead began to tell on her high spirits. She became defiant, and was always looking out for an opportunity to vent her wrath upon the people whom she termed her enemies. Had Iris only had a chance of talking to the little girl, she would soon have got to the bottom of the matter, and things might not have turned out as they did; but Iris did not even sleep in the room with Diana, and in her sister's presence the little girl made a valiant effort to appear as happy as usual. As a matter of fact, however, she and Orion spent most of their playtime in perfecting their little scheme of revenge, and on a certain hot day matters came to a crisis.

It had been much more trying than usual in the schoolroom; the sun seemed to beat in with fiercer rays; there were more flies on the window-panes, and the air seemed more charged with that terrible sleepiness which poor little Diana could not quite conquer. At last she dropped so sound asleep that Miss Ramsay took pity on her, and told her she might go and have a run in the garden.

"Go into the Filbert walk," said the governess; "don't on any account play where the sun is shining. You may stay out for half an hour. There is a clock just by the stables, which you can see when you come to the end of the walk; you will know then when the half-hour is out. Run off now and enjoy yourself."

Diana scarcely wasted any time in thanking Miss Ramsay. She flew from the schoolroom as though she were herself a little arrow shot from a bow, she tumbled rather than walked downstairs, and with no hat over her thick, black curls, careered out wildly, shouting as she did so. The prospect of the walk and the look of the sunshine were making the little girl very happy, and she might not have thought of any special revenge had not Mrs. Dolman at that moment caught sight of her.

Mrs. Dolman was coming out of the kitchen garden. She had on her invariable mushroom hat, her face was much flushed with exercise, and she was by no means in the best of humors.

"Diana," she said, "what are you doing? Come here this minute."

"No, I won't," answered Diana. She backed before the good lady, dancing and skipping and flinging her fat arms over her head. "Oh, it's 'licious out!" she said: "I won't come. I has only got half an hour; I hasn't any time; I won't come."

Mrs. Dolman began to run after her, which fact excited the little girl very much. She instantly raced away, and the stout lady had to follow her, panting and puffing.

"Diana, you are a dreadfully naughty little girl; if I catch you up, won't I punish you!" panted Mrs. Dolman.

"I don't care," called back Diana. "You can't catch me up; you is fat; you can't wun. See, let's have a wace—let's find out who'll be at the end of the walk first. Now then, one, two, three, and away! Go it, Aunt Jane! Now, then, k'ick, Aunt Jane; k'ick!"

Mrs. Dolman's rage at this great impertinence made her almost speechless. She flew after Diana, but would have had little or no chance of catching her, if the child had not suddenly tripped up against a stone and measured her full length on the ground. Before she could rise again Mrs. Dolman had caught her by the shoulder, and, as a preliminary measure, began to shake her violently.

"You are a bad little thing," she said. "Why didn't you come to me when I called you?"

"'Cos I didn't want to, Aunt Jane."

"But do you know that you have got to obey me, miss? What would your mother say?"

"You isn't to dare to talk of mother to me," answered Diana.

"Highty-tighty! I'm not to dare. Do you suppose, Diana, that I will allow a little child like you to defy me in my own house?"

"What's defy?" asked Diana.

"You are defying me now; you are a very naughty little girl, and I shall punish you."

"I don't care," said Diana, tossing her head. "I was sent out by Miss Wamsay 'cos I found the schoolroom too hot and I was sleepy. I can't obey you and Miss Wamsay both at the same time, can I? I did not come to you 'cos I don't like you."

"That's a pretty thing to say to your own aunt. Come, miss, I shall punish you immediately."

"Oh, you's going to lock me up in the punishment woom. I don't care one bit for that," said Diana. "I'll just lie on the floor and curl up like a puppy and go to s'eep. I dweam beautiful when I s'eep. I dweam that you is shotted, and that I is back again in the dear old garden at home with all the pets; and that Rub-a-Dub is alive again. I dweam that you is shotted down dead, and you can do no more harm, and——"

But Diana could not proceed any further. Mrs. Dolman, in her wild indignation, had lifted her in her arms, clapped her hand over her mouth, and carried her bodily into the study, where Mr. Dolman was preparing his sermon.

"William," said his wife, "I am really very sorry to disturb you, but I must ask you to come to my assistance."

"In what way, Jane?" he said. He pushed his spectacles, as his invariable habit was, high up on the middle of his forehead, and looked from his wife to Diana, and from Diana back again to his wife.

"Hi, Diana! is that you? Why, what is the matter, little one?" he said.

"You are not to speak to this very naughty little girl," said Mrs. Dolman. "I am sorry to trouble you, William, but matters have come to a crisis, and if you don't support your wife on this occasion, I really do not know what will happen."

"But, my dear Jane, do you mean to say that little Diana——"

"Little Diana!" repeated Mrs. Dolman. "She is quite a monster, I can tell you—a monster of ingratitude, wickedness, and rudeness, and I don't see how we can keep her any longer with our own children."

"But I am afraid, my dear wife, we cannot get David Delaney back now; he must have reached the Himalayas by this time."

"Poor fellow!" said Mrs. Dolman, "I pity him for being the father of such a very bad little girl."

"I aren't bad," cried Diana. "If you say any more, naughty woman, I'll slap 'oo."

Mrs. Dolman thought it best to let Diana slide down on the floor.

The moment the little girl found her feet she rushed up to her Uncle Dolman.

"I like you, old man," she said; "you isn't half a bad sort. I'll stay with you. P'ease, Aunt Jane, punish me by letting me stay with Uncle William. I'll just sit on the floor curled up, and maybe I'll dwop as'eep, and have my nice dweams about the time when you is shotted, and I'm back again in the old garden with all my darlin', dear, sweet pets. I'll dweam, p'waps, that we is having funerals in the garden and we is awfu' happy, and you is shotted down dead. Let me stay with Uncle William, Aunt Jane."

"Now, you see what kind of child she is, William," said Mrs. Dolman. "You have heard her with your own ears—she absolutely threatens me. Oh, I cannot name what she says; it is so shocking. I never came across such a terribly bad little girl. William, I must insist here and now on your chastising her."

"In what way?" said Mr. Dolman. "I am very busy, my dear Jane, over my sermon. Could it not be postponed, or could not you, my dear?"

"No, William, I could not, for the dark room is not bad enough for this naughty little girl. She must be whipped, and you must do it. Fetch the birch rod."

"But really," said Mr. Dolman, looking terribly distressed, "you know I don't approve of corporal punishment, my dear."

"No more do I, except in extreme cases, but this is one. William, I insist on your whipping this very bad little girl."

"I don't care if you whip me," said Diana. She stood bolt upright now, but her round, flushed little face began perceptibly to pale.

Mr. Dolman looked at her attentively, then he glanced at his wife, and then at the manuscript which lay on his desk. He always hated writing his sermons, and, truth to tell, did not write at all good ones; but on this special morning his ideas seemed to come a little more rapidly than usual—now, of course, he had lost every thought, and the sermon was ruined. Besides, he was a kind-hearted man. He thought Diana a very handsome little fury, and was rather amused with her than otherwise. Had she been left alone with him, he would not have taken the least notice of her defiant words. He would have said to himself, "She is but a baby, and if I take no notice she will soon cease to talk in this very silly manner."

But alas! there was little doubt that Uncle William was very much afraid of Aunt Jane, and when Aunt Jane dared him to produce the birch rod, there was nothing whatever for it but to comply. He rose and walked slowly and very unwillingly across the room. He unlocked the door of a big cupboard in the wall, and, poking in his large, soft, flabby hand, presently produced what looked in Diana's eyes a very terrible instrument. It was a rod, clean, slender, and with, as she afterwards expressed it, temper all over it. It flashed through her little mind by and by that, if she could really secure this rod, it might make a better bow even than the one which she and Apollo had hidden in the wood, but she had little time to think of any future use for the birch rod at this awful moment. The terrible instrument in Uncle William's flabby hand was carried across the room. When she saw it approaching her vicinity she uttered a piercing shriek and hid herself under the table.

"Come, come; none of this nonsense!" said Mrs. Dolman. "Punished you shall be. You must be made to understand that you are to respect your elders. Now, then, William, fetch that child out."

"Diana, my dear, you are a very naughty little girl; come here," said Mr. Dolman.

Diana would not have minded in the least defying Aunt Jane, but there was something in Uncle William's slow tones, particularly in a sort of regret which seemed to tremble in his voice, and which Diana felt without understanding, which forced her to obey. She scrambled slowly out, her hair tumbled over her forehead, her lower lip drooping.

"Suppose I have a little talk with her, Jane; suppose she says she is sorry and never does it again," said Mr. Dolman.

"Oh, yes, yes, Uncle William!" said Diana, really terrified for the first time in her life. "Yes, I's sossy—I's awfu' sossy, Aunt Jane. It's all wight now, Aunt Jane; Diana's sossy."

"You shall be a great deal more sorry before I have done with you," said Mrs. Dolman, who had no idea of letting the culprit off. "Now, then, William, do your duty."

"But it's all wight," said Diana, gazing with puzzled eyes up into her aunt's face. "I's been a bad girl, but I's sossy; it's all wight, I say. Naughty wod, go 'way, naughty wod."

She tried to push the rod out of Mr. Dolman's hand.

"Really, Jane, she is only five years old, and—and a poor little orphan, you know."

"Yes," said Diana eagerly, "I's a poor orphan, only a baby, five years old, awfu' young, and I's sossy, and it's all wight now. Go 'way, Aunt Jane; go 'way, naughty Aunt Jane; I's sossy."

"William," said Mrs. Dolman, "if you refuse to give that child the necessary punishment which is to make her a Christian character, I shall simply wash my hands of her. Now, then, miss, get on my lap. William, do your duty."

Poor Mr. Dolman, pale to the very lips, was forced to comply. Down went the rod on the fat little form—shriek after shriek uttered Diana. At last, more from terror than pain, she lay quiet on Mrs. Dolman's knee. The moment she did so, Mr. Dolman threw the rod on the floor.

"It's a horrid business," he said. "I hate corporal punishment. We have hurt the child. Here, give her to me."

"Nonsense, William! She is only pretending."

But this was not the case. The fright, joined to the state of excitement and heat which she had been previously in, proved too much for the defiant little spirit, and Diana had really fainted.

Mrs. Dolman was frightened now, and rushed for cold water. She bathed the child's forehead, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing her coming to again.

There was not a word of defiance from Diana now, and not a single utterance of reproach, but when she looked at Mrs. Dolman there was an expression in her black eyes from which this lady absolutely recoiled.

"Uncle William, I's hurted awfu'," whispered Diana. "Let me lie in your arms, p'ease, Uncle William."

And so she did for the rest of the morning, and the sermon never got written.



CHAPTER XIV.

DIANA'S REVENGE.

Diana had quite a nice time for the rest of the morning. Uncle William had not the least idea of sending her back to the schoolroom.

"It's very hot," he said, "and I feel sleepy. I dare say you do also."

"I do awfu'," answered Diana. "You isn't a bad old man, not at all," she continued. Here she raised her fat hand and stroked his flabby cheek. "You hates writing sermons, don't you?"

"Diana," he answered, "I would rather you did not speak about it."

"Oh, I can keep secrets," replied Diana.

"Well, in that case, to be quite frank with you, I do not care for writing sermons."

"And I don't care for learning lessons. You didn't mean to sting me so bad with that howid wod, did you, Uncle William?"

Mr. Dolman made no reply with his lips, for he did not like to defy his wife's authority, but Diana read his thoughts in his rather dull blue eyes.

"You is a kind old man," she said; "that is, when you isn't tempted by that naughty, howid woman. You is a kind old man by yourself, and you shan't be shotted."

"What do you mean by being shotted, Diana?"

But here Diana pursed up her rosy lips and looked rather solemn.

"That's a secret," she answered. "Uncle William, may I have a whole holiday to-day?"

"I think so, my dear little girl. I really think that can be managed. It is too hot to work—at least, I find it so."

"Then course I does also," answered Diana, clapping her hands. "Shall we go out into the garding—what you say?"

"Would you like to?" he asked.

"Yes, more particular in fruit garding. We can eat cherries and strawberries, and pelt each other. What you say?"

Mr. Dolman looked out of the open window. He was pretty certain that his wife by this time was absent in the village. The clock on the mantelpiece pointed to half-past eleven; the early dinner would not be ready until one o'clock. It would be cool and pleasant in the fruit garden, and it would please poor little Diana, who, in his opinion, had been very harshly treated.

"All right," he answered, "but, you know, your aunt is not to be told."

He rose from his chair as he spoke, and, stretching out his long hand, allowed Diana to curl her fingers round one of his.

"I should wather think Aunt Jane isn't to know," replied Diana, beginning to skip in her rapture. "I don't like aunts; I always said so. I like uncles; they isn't half bad. You isn't bad, for an old man. You is awfu' old, isn't you?"

"Not so very old, Diana. I'm not forty yet."

"Forty! What a ter'ble age!" said Diana. "You must 'member all the kings and queens of England; don't you, Uncle William?"

"Not quite all, Diana. Now, I'll just take you through the garden, for I think a little fresh air will do you good."

"And if I pop cherries into your mouf it 'll do you good," answered Diana. "Oh, we'll have a lovely time!"

So they did, and Mr. Dolman devoutly hoped that there was no one there to see. For Diana rapidly recovered her spirits, and picked cherries in quantities and pelted her uncle; and then she ran races and incited him to follow her, and she picked strawberries, heaps and heaps, and got him to sit down on a little bench near the strawberry beds, and popped the delicious ripe berries into his mouth; and although he had never played before in such a fashion with any little girl, he quite enjoyed it, and presently entered the house with his lips suspiciously red, and a confession deep down in his heart that he had spent quite a pleasant morning.

At dinner-time Diana and her uncle walked into the room, side by side.

"Well, William," said Mrs. Dolman, "I hope you have finished your sermon."

"Not quite, my dear," he answered.

"Not kite, my dear," echoed Diana.

Mr. Dolman gave her a half-terrified glance, but she was stanch enough, and had not the least idea of betraying the happy morning they had spent together.

Towards the end of the meal, her clear little voice might have been heard calling to her uncle.

"Uncle William, you wishes me to have a whole holiday; doesn't you? You pwomised I is to have a whole holiday to-day."

Now, Mrs. Dolman had felt very uncomfortable about Diana during her hot walk to the village that morning. She had not at all minded punishing her, but when she saw her lying white and unconscious in her arms, she had certainly gone through a terrible moment, and had, perhaps, in the whole course of her life, never felt so thankful as when the black eyes opened wide, and the little voice sounded once again. The look, too, that Diana had given her on this occasion she could not quite efface from her recollection. On the whole, therefore, she felt inclined to be gentle to the little girl, and when she pleaded for a holiday Mrs. Dolman did not say a word to interfere.

"It is a very hot day, and Diana was not quite well this morning," said Mr. Dolman, glancing first at his wife and then at Miss Ramsay, "so, all things considered, perhaps—"

"Thank you, uncle," interrupted Diana, "it's kite settled, and you isn't half a bad sort of old man. And now, p'ease, I want Orion to have a holiday too."

"Oh, that's another matter!" interrupted Miss Ramsay. "Orion is in perfect health to-day, and as he is extremely backward for his age—"

"But the heat of the day, and the child being so young," put in Mr. Dolman.

"I'd be much happier if I had Orion with me," continued Diana, "and it's 'portant my being happy; isn't it, Uncle William? P'ease, Uncle William, say that Orion may have a holiday."

"I will give leave if your aunt and Miss Ramsay will," he replied.

"Oh, don't ask me!" said Mrs. Dolman, rising hastily as she spoke. "I wash my hands of the pair."

"She washes her hands of the pair, so she don't count," said Diana. "Is we to have a holiday, Uncle William? I is, but is Orion, too? That's the 'portant part," she added.

"I have no objection," said Miss Ramsay, who thought it best to close this scene as quickly as possible.

Orion uttered a shout of rapture, Diana rushed up to him, clutched him round the neck, and pulled him from the room.

Nearly wild with glee, they both ran helter-skelter out of the house, into the cool shrubbery beyond.

"Now, Orion," said Diana, the moment they found themselves alone, "you must cool down and not 'cite yourself too much. We has a ter'ble lot of work to do. I has got my holiday through awfu' suff'in'. I was beated and killed, and I has come fresh to life again. Course I's in a wage, and I's got a holiday for you and for me 'cos we must do our work. Wun upstairs, Orion, and bwing down your big straw hat and mine, and we'll go and find them."

Orion knew perfectly well what "them" meant. He looked hard at Diana, saw something in her eyes which she could not suppress, and, with a sigh of mingled pleasure and alarm ran off to do her bidding. He returned in less than a minute with his large sailor hat stuck on the back of his head, and a white sun-bonnet for Diana. Diana's sun-bonnet had a black bow at the back and black strings.

"Howid, hot old thing," she said, "I won't wear it. Here, let's hide it; I don't mind going with nothing."

"But you must not do that," said Orion, "'cos, if they see you, they'll catch you and bring you home. You had best sling it on your arm, Di; and then, if they are seen coming, why, you can pop it on your head."

"Well, p'w'aps so," answered Diana. "We has an awfu' lot to do this afternoon, Orion, 'cos Aunt Jane has got to be shotted, and I's thinking of having Miss Wamsay shotted too."

"But do you mean," said Orion, "that you'll really shoot 'em both?"

"Yes," replied Diana. "It has to be done; it's ter'ble, but it must be done. What would be the good if they wasn't shotted dead? Yes, they'll be shotted, and they'll have a public funeral, and after that we'll have a lovely time. Uncle William isn't half bad, and 'stead of doing howid lessons every morning we'll just go into the garding and eat stwawberries and cherries, and he'll play with us. He'll love to, for he don't like writing sermins a bit, and we'll blindfold him and he'll wun after us. He's k'ite a nice old man, and if Aunt Jane and Miss Wamsay is shotted—why, we'll have a jolly time. Now, let's wun and fetch the big bow and arrows."

Orion had always a great respect for his younger sister Diana. "Well," he said, "if you're a grand lady, don't forget that I'm a big giant, and that I've got a belt and a sword. There's Simpson, you know; she's rather a bother, and I can run my sword into her, if you really wish it, Diana."

"I'll think about it," answered Diana. "I don't want to have three persons deaded wight off; it might be sort of troublesome. I'll think what's best to be done with Simpson. Now, let's start at once."

Mrs. Dolman was under the supposition that the children had gone to play in the back garden. The greater part of that somewhat neglected domain was laid out in shrubbery, and there were shady trees and swings and see-saws, and other sources of amusement for the little Dolmans during their brief hours of play. Miss Ramsay also thought that Diana and Orion would go to the shrubbery. She went up, therefore, to the schoolroom quite contented. Mr. Dolman retired to his study, where he went to sleep, and Mrs. Dolman ordered the pony chaise, and went off to see a distant parishioner, who was very ill.

The house was wonderfully quiet, and nothing occurred to disturb Mr. Dolman in his deep slumber. The manuscript pages which were to be covered by his neatly written sermon lay in virgin purity before him. In his sleep he dreamt of little Diana, and awoke presently with a queer sense of uneasiness with regard to her. But he was by nature a very lazy man, and it did not occur to him to inquire as to her present whereabouts. "She's a fine little soul," he said to himself. "I do wish Jane had not taken such a dislike to her. It is useless to drive that sort of child; she must be led, and led gently. 'Pon my word, I did have an entertaining morning with the little mite, and what a lot of strawberries she made me eat! I wonder Jane did not remark at dinner how poor my appetite was—I was dreadfully afraid she would do so. Certainly Jane is an active woman, an excellent woman, but just a little bit stern."

Meanwhile Diana, holding Orion by the hand, had started running up the long avenue. The little pair soon reached the lodge gates. Diana and her brother went out through the postern door which was at the side, and the next moment found themselves on the highroad. This road led in the direction of the shady woods where Apollo had hidden the bow and arrows a few weeks ago. It was a pretty road, a couple of miles in length, and well shaded by trees, a kind of outgrowth of the forest itself. As she was not likely to meet any of the Dolman family on the road, Diana did not wear her sun-bonnet, but kept it hanging on her arm. "It is nice to be out," she said, as she tripped along. "I love hot sun; I love twees; I love blue sky; I love dust."

"I don't," replied Orion; "this road is horrid dusty, and it gets into my shoes. I have only my house shoes on, you know, Diana."

"Oh, never mind!" answered Diana. "If you is a giant, you isn't going to g'umble. What is the use of g'umbling? You be all wight soon. We'll be in the wood soon, and we'll have got the bow and arrows, and then we'll have to pwactice shooting. Oh, I say, there's a turnstile and a path, and I believe the path leads stwaight to the wood. Let's leave the woad and go to the wood that way."

"All right," replied Orion. He always did say "all right" to every single thing Diana asked him to do.

The children now found themselves in a shady lane, between high hedgerows. It was a pretty lane, only very sultry at this time of day; but Diana, seeing butterflies flying about, began to give chase to them. She also stopped many times to pick flowers. Orion shouted as he ran, and neither of the little pair minded, for a time at least, the fact that the sun was pouring on their heads, and that their small faces were getting redder and redder.

"I's stweaming down with hotness," said Diana, at last. "I must stop a bit or I'll melt away. I don't want to melt till I has shotted my enemies. Is you stweaming with hotness, Orion?"

"Yes," said Orion.

They stood still, took out their handkerchiefs, mopped their faces vigorously, and then continued their walk. The time seemed to drag all of a sudden; they were both very tired. How glad they were when they finally reached the friendly shelter of the Super-Ashton woods. Here it was deliciously cool, and here Diana, thoroughly exhausted, threw herself on her face and hands, and, before Orion could say a word, had dropped off into sound sleep. He thought she looked very comfortable, and it occurred to him that he could not do better than follow her example. Accordingly, he also stretched himself on the ground, and, with his head resting on one of Diana's fat little legs, also visited the land of dreams. For two hours the children slept. When they awoke at last they found that the sun was no longer high in the heavens; it was veering rapidly towards the west, and was sending slanting and very beautiful rays of light through the wood. Diana rubbed her eyes and looked around her.

"I's awfu' hung'y," she said. "How does you feel, Orion?"

"My tumtum's empty," answered Orion.

"We'll pick berries in the wood," said Diana; "that'll sat'sfy us. Berries is wight for wunaway sildrens. Do you 'member what we has come here for, Orion?"

"To amuse ourselves, I suppose," replied Orion.

Diana gave him an angry flash from her black eyes.

"What a silly little boy you is!" she said. "We has come for most solemn, 'portant business. I is Diana—the gweat Diana what lived years and years ago—and you is Orion. I is the gweatest huntwess in all the world, and I's going to shoot Aunt Jane and Miss Wamsay. Now, come 'long, Orion, and let's look for the bow and arrow."

The children searched and searched, and after a long time did actually discover the crooked and badly made bow and the blunt arrow.

"Here they is, the darlin's!" cried Diana. "My own bow, my own arrow—how I loves 'em! Now, Orion, I is going to shoot you—for pwactice, you know, and then you shall shoot me for pwactice too. You stand up there against the twee, and I'll make good shots. You don't mind if I does hurt you a bit, does you?"

"But I don't want to be shotted down dead," replied Orion.

"No, I won't go as far as that. It's only Aunt Jane and Miss Wamsay who is to be shotted dead; but you'll have to be shotted, 'cos I must pwactice how to do it."

"But couldn't you practice against the tree without me standing there?" said Orion, who had no fancy to have even this very blunt arrow directed at his face.



CHAPTER XV.

MOTHER RODESIA.

After some very slight persuasion Diana induced Orion to put his back up against an oak tree and to allow her to shoot at him. He quickly discovered that he had little or no cause for fear. Diana's arrows, wielded with all the cunning she possessed, from the crooked bow, never went anywhere near him. They fell on the grass and startled the birds, and one little baby rabbit ran quite away, and some squirrels looked down at the children through the thick trees; but Orion had very little chance of getting hurt.

"It's awfu' difficult," said Diana, whose face grew redder and redder with her efforts. "If it don't shoot pwoper, Aunt Jane won't get shotted to-night. What is to be done? Suppose you was to twy for a bit, Orion?"

Orion was only too anxious to accede to this proposition. He took the bow and arrow and made valiant efforts, but in the course of his endeavors to shoot properly, the badly made bow suddenly snapped in two, and Diana, in her discomfiture, and the dashing to the ground of her hopes, burst into tears.

"You is bad boy," she cried. "See what you's done. Back we goes to slav'ry—to Aunt Jane and Miss Wamsay. You is a bad, howid boy."

"I aren't," said Orion, who had a very easily aroused temper. "It's you that's a horrid little girl."

"Come, children; what's all this noise about?" said a voice in their ears.

They turned abruptly, forgetting on the instant their own cause of quarrel, and saw a tall, swarthy-looking woman coming towards them. By this time it was beginning to get dark in the wood, but they could see the figure of the woman quite distinctly. She came close to them, and then, putting her arms akimbo, surveyed them both with a certain queer expression on her face.

"Well, my little dears," she said, "and what may you two be doing in this part of the wood?"

"We is pweparing to have our enemies shotted," answered Diana, in a calm, but sturdy, voice. "What's your name, gweat big woman?"

"Mother Rodesia Lee," replied the woman, "and I'm fond of little children. I like to meet them in the wood. I often come into the wood, and when I see little strange children I love 'em at once. I'm a sort of mother to all little strangers who get into the woods without leave." Here she flashed a pair of black eyes full into Diana's face. But Diana met their gaze without a vestige of shrinking, with eyes as black.

"We has not come without leave," she said; "you is naughty to talk that way. We has got a whole holiday to-day from our Uncle William. He didn't say nothing 'bout not going into the woods, and we has been here for lots of hours. We is going home now 'cos we is hung'y, and 'cos my bow has got bwoke. We is awfu' unhappy—we is mis'ble, but we is going home. Good-night, woman; don't keep us talkin' any longer."

"I aint going to keep you," said the woman; "only, p'r'aps, if you two are so hungry, p'r'aps I could give you a bit of supper."

"Oh, yes, Diana! Do let her," said Orion.

"What sort of supper?" asked Diana, who never allowed herself to be taken unawares. "Would it be stwawberries and k'eam, or would it be cake and milk?"

"Strawberries and cream, and milk and cake, plenty and plenty," said the woman. "And what do you say to delicious soup and honey, p'r'aps? Oh, come along, my little loves; I'll give you something fine to eat."

"Do let's go," said Orion; "my tumtum's so empty it feels like a big hole."

"I know," said the woman, in a very sympathetic voice. "I have had it myself like that at times. It's sort of painful when it's like that; aint it?"

"Yes," answered Orion. He went up to his sister, and took her hand. "Come along, Di," he said. "Do let this nice woman give us our supper."

"You may be sure I won't give it," said the woman, "unless both you little children ask me in a very perlite voice. You must say, 'Please, Mother Rodesia.'"

"I can't say that keer sort of name," said Diana.

"Well, then, call me mother without anything else. They often does that at home—often and often. All the little kids is desp'ate fond of me. I dote so on little children. My heart runs over with love to 'em."

"You would not let a little girl be beated?" said Diana.

"Be beaten?" replied the woman. "No, that I wouldn't; it would be downright cruel."

"I was beated to-day," said Diana; "it was an enemy did it, and I'm going to have her shotted."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that!" said the woman. "You might be hanged up for that."

"What's being hanged up?" asked Diana.

"It's something very bad—I need not tell you now; but there are laws in this country, and if you shoot your enemies you are hanged up for it. You are not allowed to do those sort of things in this country."

"Yes, I are," answered Diana, "'cos I are the gweat Diana. You underland, don't you?"

"I don't know that I do; but, anyhow, I have no time to stand talking now. Come along, and you can tell me afterwards. I have got such a nice supper—plenty of strawberries and cream, plenty of milk and cake."

"Oh, my tumtum," said Orion, pressing his hand to that part of his little body with great solemnity.

"How soon will the supper be over? and how soon can we get back home?" asked Diana.

"That depends on where your home is, my pretty little dear," said Mother Rodesia.

"It's at Wectory, stoopid woman."

"I don't know that place, miss."

"Don't you know my Uncle William Dolman?"

"What! the rector?" said the woman. "And so you come from the Rectory?" She looked frightened for a moment, and her manner became hesitating. "Are you one of the rector's children, my little love?" she asked.

"No; he's only an uncle; he belongs to an aunt. I hate aunts. He's not a bad sort his own self; but I hate aunts!"

"Then you wouldn't mind if you was to leave her?"

"No. But I can't leave Uncle William, and I can't leave Iris, and I can't leave Apollo. We would like some supper 'cos we is hung'y, and it's past our tea hour; but then we must go stwaight home."

"All right, my little love; everything can be managed to your satisfaction. My son has got a pony and cart, and he'll drive you over to the Rectory in a twinkling, after your appetites are satisfied. I can't abear to see little children real hungry. You come along with me this minute or the supper will be eat up."

Diana hesitated no longer. She carried her broken bow on one arm, and she slung her arrow, by a string, round her neck; then, taking one of Mother Rodesia's large brown hands, and Orion taking the other, the two children trotted deeper into the dark wood. They all three walked for over a mile, and the wood seemed to get darker and denser, and the children's little feet more and more tired. Orion also began to complain that the hole inside him was getting bigger and bigger; but Mother Rodesia, now that she had got them to go with her, said very few words, and did not take the least notice of their complaints. At last, when they suddenly felt that they could not go another step, so great was their fatigue, they came out on an open clearing in the wood, in the center of which a great big tent was pitched. Several smaller tents were also to be seen in the neighborhood of the big one, and a lot of children, very brown and ugly, and only half-dressed, were lying about on the grass, squabbling and rolling over one another. Some dogs also were with the children, and an old woman, a good deal browner than Mother Rodesia, was sitting at the door of the big tent.

As soon as ever the children saw the little strangers, they scrambled to their feet with a cry, and instantly surrounded Mother Rodesia and Orion and Diana.

"Back, all of you, you little rascallions," said Mother Rodesia; "back, or I'll cuff you. Where's Mother Bridget? I want to speak to her?"

When Mother Rodesia said this the old woman at the door of the principal tent rose slowly and came to meet them.

"Well, Rodesia," she said, "and so you has found these little strangers in the wood? What purty little dears!"

"Yes, I have found them," said Mother Rodesia, "and I have brought them home to supper. After supper we are to send them home. They hail from the Rectory. Is Jack anywhere about?"

"I saw him not half an hour back," said the old woman; "he had just brought in a fat hare, and I popped it into the pot for supper. You can smell it from here, little master," she said, stooping suddenly down and letting her brown, wrinkled, aged face come within an inch or two of Orion's. He started back, frightened. He had never seen anyone so old nor so ugly before. Even the thought of the strawberries and cream, and the milk and cake, could not compensate for the look on Mother Bridget's face.

Diana, however, was not easily alarmed.

"The stuff in the pot smells vedy good," she said, sniffing. "I could shoot lots of hares, 'cos I is the gweatest huntwess in all the world. I is Diana. Did you ever hear of Diana, ugly old woman?"

"You had best not call Mother Bridget names," said Mother Rodesia, giving Diana a violent shake as she spoke.

But the little girl leaped lightly away from her.

"I always call peoples just what I think them," she said; "I wouldn't be the gweat Diana if I didn't. I has not got one scwap of fear in me, so you needn't think to come wound me that way. I do think she is awfu' ugly. She's uglier than Aunt Jane, what I used to think was the ugliest person in the world. You had best not twy to fwighten me, for it can't be done."

"What a spirited little missy it is!" said Mother Bridget, gazing with admiration at Diana. "Why, now, she is a fine little child. I'm sure, dearie, I don't mind whether you call me ugly or not; it don't matter the least bit in the world to me. And how old may you be, my little love?"

"I is five," answered Diana. "I's a well-grown girl, isn't I?"

"That you are, missy, and hungry, too, I guess. You shall have some beautiful hare soup."

"I don't want hare soup," answered Diana; "I want what that woman pwomised—stwawberries and k'eam, and milk and cake—and then, perhaps, a little soup. I don't want soup to begin."

"Well," said the old woman, "we hasn't got no strawberries, nor no milk, nor no cake—we are very poor folks here, missy. A little lady must be content with what she can get, unless, my dear, you would like to pay 'andsome for it."

"I has nothing to pay with," answered Diana. "I would, if I had the money, but I hasn't got none. I's sossy," she continued, looking full at Mother Rodesia as she spoke, "that you big, big woman told such awfu' lies. But, now that we has come, we'll take a little hare soup. Orion, you stand near me, and don't any of you dirty peoples come up too close, 'cos I can't abear dirty peoples. I is the gweatest shot in all the world, and Orion, he's a giant."

Two or three men had approached at that moment, and they all began to laugh heartily when poor little pale Orion was called a giant.

"You can see him in the sky sometimes on starful nights," continued Diana, "and he has got a belt and a sword."

"Well, to be sure, poor little thing," said Mother Rodesia, "she must be a bit off her head, but she's a fine little spirited thing for all that. I think she would just about do. You come along here for a minute, Jack, and let me talk to you."

The man called Jack moved a few steps away, and Mother Rodesia followed him. They began to talk together in low and earnest voices. At first the man shook his head as he listened to Mother Rodesia, but by degrees he began to agree with some suggestion she was making, and finally he nodded emphatically, and at last was heard to say:

"It shall be done."

Meanwhile Diana, with one arm clasped protectingly round Orion's waist, was partaking of the soup which old Mother Bridget had ladled into a little bowl. Orion was provided with a similar bowl of the very excellent liquid. The soup contained meat and vegetables, pieces of bread and quantities of good gravy, and, as Diana and Orion were very hungry indeed, they ate up their portions, while the gypsy children clustered round them, coming closer and closer each minute. Diana's eyes, however, were as black as theirs, and her manner twice as spirited. She would not allow them to approach too close.

"You had best not take lib'ties," she said. "I is a gweat lady; I is Diana, the biggest shot in all the world."

"Oh, lawk! hark to her," cried one of the boys. "I wonder if you could shoot me, little miss?"

"Shoot you, boy?" cried Diana. "That I could. You would be shotted down dead if I was to take up my bow and use my arrow."

At last the children had finished the contents of their bowls, and rose solemnly to their feet.

"Now," said Diana, going up to Mother Bridget, "I are vedy obliged to you; you has been kind; you has gived us good supper. We'll 'scuse 'bout the stwawberries and k'eam and the milk and cake, 'cos you didn't know that the other big woman told lots of lies. And now, p'ease, we are going home. We isn't glad to go home, but we is going. P'ease tell the man to put pony to cart, and dwive us home as fast as he can."

"Yes, indeed, my little dear," said Mother Bridget; "there aint one moment to be lost. You just come inside the tent, though, first for a minute."

"I don't want to go inside that dirty tent," said Diana; "I don't like dirt. You had best not twy to take lib'ties. I is Diana, and this is Orion, and we is both very big peoples indeed."

At that moment Mother Rodesia came forward.

"They need not go into the tent," she said to the old woman; "I can manage better than that. Just you help lift 'em into the cart; it's a dark night, and there'll be no stars, and we can get off as far as——" Here she dropped her voice, and Diana could not hear the next words.

"I'm going with them," she continued, "and Jack will drive. They are exactly the kind of children Ben wants. Now then, little missy, jump in. Ah, here you are! You'll be glad of the drive, won't you?"

"When will we get back to Wectory?" asked Diana.

"In about an hour, missy."

"Come 'long, Orion," said Diana, "you sit next me. Hold my hand, poor little boy, case you is fwightened. Diana never was fwightened; that isn't her."

Orion scrambled also into the cart, and the two children huddled up close together. Mother Rodesia got in with them, and sat down at the opposite side, with her knees huddled up close to her chin. The man called Jack mounted the driver's seat, whacked the pony with two or three hard touches of his whip and away they bounded.

The night was very dark, and the cart rattled roughly, and jolted and banged the children about, but Orion felt comforted and contented after his good supper, and Diana's fat little arm felt warm round his neck, and soon his head rested on her shoulder and he was sound asleep. Not so little Diana. She sat wide awake and gazed hard at the woman, whose dark eyes were seen to flash now and then as the party jolted over the roads.

"Tell him to go k'icker," said Diana. "I must get home afore Uncle William goes to bed. Aunt Jane might beat me again, and I don't want to be beated. Tell him to go k'icker, Mother 'Odesia."



CHAPTER XVI.

UNCLE BEN.

Mother Rodesia was most kind and obliging. The pony was whipped up, and now it seemed to Diana's excited fancy that they quite flew over the road. She felt for her broken bow, which she had laid by her side, then she cuddled up closer to Orion, and whispered to herself:

"Mother 'Odesia's a good woman when all's said, done. She has gived us supper and soon we'll be home; and Uncle William won't be in bed, and he won't let c'uel Aunt Jane beat me. It's all wight; I may just as well go to s'eep, 'cos I is drefful s'eepy, and it's late. I wonder if the night will be starful, and if I'll see Orion up in the sky. Anyhow, there's no stars at pwesent, and I had best go to s'eep."

So the little girl cuddled herself up close to her brother, and soon the big dark eyes were shut, and she was happy in the land of dreams.

When this happened, Mother Rodesia softly and stealthily changed her position. She stretched out her hand and touched Jack on his arm. This seemed to have been an arranged signal, for he drew up the pony at once.

They were still under the shelter of the great woods which extended for miles over that part of the country.

"We had best begin to change their clothes now," said Mother Rodesia. "They are both as sound as nails, and I don't want the clothes to be seen by Ben, for he's safe to pawn 'em, and if he pawns 'em the police may get 'em, and then the children may be traced, and we may get into hot water."

"But, mother," said Jack, "do you dare to disturb them now when they are asleep? That young 'un with the black eyes is such a fury; seemed to me as if she was never goin' off."

"She's all right now," said Mother Rodesia. "She's just dead tired. Of course, if I had had my way, I'd have put a little of that syrup into their soup—Mother Winslow's Syrup—but Mother Bridget wouldn't have it. She took quite a fancy to the little gal, and all on account of her firing up and calling her names."

Jack laughed.

"I never seed sech a little 'un," he said, "sech a sparky little piece. Ben's in rare luck. I'd like to keep her for a sort of little sister of my own—she'd amuse me fine."

"Well, well, you aint a-goin' to have her," said Mother Rodesia. "I'm goin' to ask thirty shillin's for her and thirty shillin's for the boy. That'll be three pund—not a bad night's work; eh, Jack?"

"No," replied Jack; but then he continued after a pause, "You'll tell him, won't you, mother, to be good to the children. I wouldn't like to think that little 'un was treated cruel, and her sperit broke—she has got a fine sperit, bless her; I wouldn't like it to be broke. I don't care for the little boy. There's nothing in 'im."

"Well, stop talking now," said Mother Rodesia. "They must be missed at the Rectory by this time, and they'll be sendin' people out to look for 'em. It's a rare stroke of luck that nobody knows that we are camping in the Fairy Dell, for if they did they would be sure to come straight to us, knowin' that poor gypsies is always supposed to kidnap children. Now, Jack, you just hold the pony as still as you can, and I'll slip the clothes off the pair of 'em."

Little Diana, in her deep sleep, was not at all disturbed when stout hands lifted her away from Orion, and when she lay stretched out flat on a large lap. One by one her clothes were untied and slipped off her pretty little body, and some very ugly, sack-like garments substituted in their place. Diana had only a dim feeling in her dreams that mother was back again, and was undressing her, and that she was very glad to get into bed. And when the same process of undressing took place on little Orion, he was still sounder asleep and still more indifferent to the fact that he was turned sometimes over on his face, and sometimes on his back, and that his pretty, dainty clothes, which his own mother had bought for him, were removed, never to be worn by him again.

"Now, then," said Mother Rodesia, when she had laid the two children back again upon the straw, "when they awake, and if Ben is not there, we must dye their faces with walnut juice; but we can't begin that now, for they are sure to howl a good bit, and if folks are near, they will hear them and come to the rescue. Jack, have you got that spade 'andy?"

The man, without a word, lifted a portion of the straw in the cart, and took out a spade.

"That's right," said the woman. "You make a deep hole under that tree, and put all the clothes in. Bury 'em well. I'll rescue 'em and pawn 'em myself when we go to the West of England in the winter, but for the present they must stay under ground. See, I'll wrap 'em up in this good piece of stout brown paper, and then perhaps they won't get much spoiled."

Jack took the little bundle (there were the soft, pretty socks, the neat little shoes, even the ribbon with which Diana's hair was tied), and twisted them all up into a bundle. Then his mother wrapped the bundle in the piece of brown paper, and gave it to him to bury.

This being done the pony was once more whipped up, and the cart proceeded at a rapid rate. They were now on the highroad, and going in the direction of a large town. The town was called Maplehurst. It was fifteen miles away from the Rectory of Super-Ashton.

Little Diana slept on and on, and the sun was beginning to send faint rays of light into the eastern sky, when at last she opened her eyes.

"Where is I?" she said with a gasp.

"With me, my little dear; you are as safe as child can be," said Mother Rodesia. "Don't you stir, my love; you are just as good as you was in your little bed. See, let me lay this rug over you."

She threw a piece of heavy tarpaulin, lined with cloth, over the child as she spoke.

Diana yawned in a comfortable manner.

"Isn't we at Wectory yet?" she asked.

"No, dear; the pony went lame, and we had to stop for a good bit on the road; but if you like to go to sleep again, you'll be there when next you wake."

"I isn't s'eepy any longer," said Diana, sitting bolt upright in the cart. "Oh, what a funny dwess I has on. Where is my nice b'ack dwess, and my pinafore, and my shoes and socks?"

"Well, dear," said Mother Rodesia, "you were so dead asleep, and the pony got that lame we couldn't stir hand nor foot, so I thought it best to put a little nightdress on you."

"But what a funny one," said Diana, gazing with curious admiration at the stout, sack-like garment.

"It's the best poor Mother Rodesia has, my dear. I'm awful poor, you know."

"Is you?" asked Diana.

"Yes, dear."

"And does you mind?" asked Diana.

"Yes, dear; 'cos when people are poor they can't get bread to eat, and then they can't get nice clothes like you, little missy. You are a very rich little gal; aint you, little dear?"

"My faver's awfu' rich," said Diana. "We used to live in a most beaut'ful house, and we had a beaut'ful garding to play in. We had animals there—lots and lots. Woman, is you fond of animals—mices and that sort?"

"Love—I just adores 'em."

"Then you is a nice sort," answered Diana. She left her place by Orion and crept up close to the woman.

"May I sit on your lap?" she said.

Mother Rodesia made a place for her at once.

"Put your arm wound me, p'ease; I is still a teeny bit s'eepy."

"You lay your head against my breast, little love, and you'll go off into a beautiful sleep, and I'll keep you nice and warm, for hot as the days are, it's chilly in the mornin's."

"When my faver comes home I'll ask him to give you lots of money, Mother 'Odesia," said Diana.

She closed her eyes as she spoke, and in another moment was once again slumbering peacefully.

When little Diana next opened her eyes all was completely changed. She was no longer in the funny cart with the straw. Her nightdress was still on her, it is true, and there were neither shoes nor stockings on her bare feet; but she and Orion found themselves in a dirty room with a nasty smell. Both children looked at one another, and both felt cold and frightened. The broad daylight was lighting up the room, and Diana could perceive that there was scarcely any furniture in it. Her bow was also gone, and her arrow no longer hung round her neck. She clutched a firm hold of Orion's hand.

"Don't you be afeared, Orion," she said. "Don't you forget you is a big giant. Don't you forget you has got your belt and your sword."

"But I haven't, that's just it," replied Orion. "Diana, I aren't a giant, and I'm awfu' frightened."

"Where can us be?" said Diana. "What a keer room! But there's one good comfort; there isn't no aunts anywheres 'bout."

"I can't remember nothing," said Orion. "Why aren't we in bed? It's too early to get up. How have we got into this horrid little room?"

"I don't know more nor you," said Diana, "only I do know that we has got to be bwave. Don't you forget, Orion, that mother gived you your name, and that you is a giant, whether you likes it or not. Don't you forget that, and I won't forget that I is Diana, and that mother gived me my name too, and that I is the bwavest huntwess in all the world."

"But you haven't got a bow and arrow," said Orion.

Diana was silent for a moment.

"Anyhow," she said, with a little shake, "I isn't going to be fwightened. Let's sit close together, and let's think."

"Why can't we open that door and go out?" said Orion. "Why should we stay in this horrid room?"

"'Cos our foots is bare," said Diana.

"But don't let's mind that," said Orion; "let's go to the door and open it, and let's run back to Rectory. I'd rather have Aunt Jane and Miss Ramsay than this horrid room—and oh, Diana! my tumtum has got a big hole in it again."

"And mine has too," answered Diana. "I could eat a whole loaf, that I could."

"Hush!" whispered Orion; "somebody's coming. Oh, come close to me, Diana!"

"Now, you isn't to be fwightened, little boy," said Diana. "I is near you, and I isn't fwightened of nobody."

At that moment the door was flung open, and Mother Rodesia, accompanied by a tall, dark man, with a scowling face, came in.

"Mornin', little dears," said Mother Rodesia. "Now I have got something to say to you."

"P'ease, where's Wectory?" asked Diana.

"You are not going there just for the present, my dear. This man, Ben is his name—you told me last night that you were fond of uncles—you can call 'im Uncle Ben; he's very kind and very, very fond of children."

"Oh, yes! I'm very fond of children," said the man. He spoke in a gruff voice which seemed to come right from the bottom of his chest.

"And as you don't like aunts," continued Mother Rodesia, "I have brought an uncle. You can call 'im Uncle Ben; and if you do just what he says, why, you'll be as happy as the day is long."

"Look here," said the man; "you stop your talk, Rodesia. Before I makes myself an uncle to these kids I must see what sort they are. You stand up along here, little gal, and let me examine you."

Diana scrambled instantly to her feet and went straight up to the man. She gave him a keen glance from her piercing black eyes.

"What wight has you to speak to me in that sort of style?" she said. "You isn't my uncle, and I isn't going to have nothing to do with you."

"There," said Mother Rodesia; "did I say one word too much for her?"

The man burst into a loud laugh.

"No, that you didn't," he said; "and aint you frightened of me, missy?"

"Fwightened?" replied Diana; "that aren't me." She turned her back and strode back to Orion.

"'Member you is a giant," she said, in a whisper; "and giants never is fwightened."

The man laughed again.

"Well, they are a queer little pair," he said. "I tell you what it is, Rodesia Lee; I'll give you a pund apiece for 'em. Come, now; not a penny more."

Diana stared very hard indeed when these words were uttered. She had not the faintest idea what a "pund apiece" meant. Mother Rodesia seemed to consider.

"And you may think yourself in rare luck," continued the man; "for, remember, if it is known—" Here he walked to the farthest end of the room, and Mother Rodesia followed him.

"You had best close up the bargain and be quick about it," he said; "for not one penny more will you drag out of me. I'll give you a gold sov. for each of 'em, and that's as much as I can manage. They will take a sight of training, and then there's the risk."

"Very well," said Mother Rodesia, "I suppose I had best do it; only they are worth more. There's a fortune in that little gal, and whenever you are tired of her, why, there's a rich father to fall back on. I spect he would give a sight of money to have her back again. Very well, we'll agree; only, if ever you do get a fortune out of that child, Ben Holt, you might remember poor Rodesia Lee."

The man laughed and patted Mother Rodesia on her shoulder. Then the pair left the room, locking the door behind them.

"What does it all mean?" said Orion.

"I don't know," said Diana; "but I aren't fwightened; that aren't me." Her little voice shook as she spoke, and she had great difficulty in keeping the tears back from her big, black eyes.



CHAPTER XVII.

GREASED LIGHTNING.

At the end of half an hour the door of the small room was again unlocked, and a woman with a thin, pale face, and somewhat frightened manner, appeared. She carried a tray in her hand, which contained two little bowls of porridge, and a small jug of milk. "So you are the two young 'uns," she said. "Well, you had best be quick and eat up your breakfast. Uncle Ben is going to have a rehearsal, and he wants you to see what they are all doing."

"We hasn't got no Uncle Ben," said Diana; "don't be silly, woman. What's your name?" she added.

"I'm generally called Aunt Sarah," was the reply; "and now, look here, you two little mites; I'll be good to you if you'll let me. I'm real sorry you has come, and it's against my wish, you remember that. Now, eat up your breakfasts, both of you. Uncle Ben, he don't know that I have brought you porridge and milk; but children as young as you are can't eat coarse food. Sup up your porridge, my dears."

"Thank you very much indeed, Aunt Sawah," said Diana, slipping down from her seat close to Orion on the bench, and preparing to attack her breakfast. "P'w'aps," she continued, as she put great mouthfuls of porridge into her mouth, "when we has finished this nice bekfus you'll take us back to Wectory? You see, you isn't our aunt weally, not by no manner of wights, and Uncle Ben isn't our uncle, and so we ought not to stay here; and if we go back to Wectory, why, Uncle William, what's our weal uncle, p'w'aps he would pay you money, if it's money you wants."

"Yes; it's true enough, it is money we want," replied the woman; "but, my dear," she added, the tears springing to her eyes, "I can't take you back to no Rectory. You have just got to stay here and to watch Uncle Ben when he's going through his rehearsal, and then this afternoon we are going on a very long journey, and you are coming with us—and oh, I forgot to say that, when you have finished your breakfast, I must put something on your faces."

"Something on our faces?" said Diana.

"Yes, my little love; it has to be done. But when we get to another part of the country I'll wash the ugly stuff off again, and you'll look as fair and pretty as you do now. It won't make much difference after all to you, little missy," she added, gazing fixedly at Diana, "'cos you are very dark by nature. Yes, I had a little kid of my own, a little gal, and she wasn't unlike you—no, not by no means. I'll be kind to you for her pretty sake, my little dear. Now, eat your breakfast, and be quick, the pair of you."

"Has your little girl what was like me got deaded?" asked Diana, in a very thoughtful and earnest voice.

"She is dead, my dear. Yes, yes, she is dead," replied the woman. "Eat up your breakfast now; I have no time to answer questions."

Orion did not need a second bidding; he had already plunged his spoon into the porridge, and soon his little bowl was empty, and also the jug of milk. Diana also finished her breakfast, but more thoughtfully. She was a wonderfully wise little girl for her tender years, and at the present moment she was dreadfully puzzled to know what to do. She was quite shrewd enough to guess that Mother Rodesia was a bad sort of woman, and that she, Diana, had done wrong ever to trust herself to her. Uncle Ben, too, in spite of her brave words, terrified her more or less. All things considered, therefore, she would not have been at all sorry to find herself back again at the Rectory, with Miss Ramsay to teach her, and Aunt Jane hovering in the background. "Isn't it funny, we has got our nightdwesses on?" she said suddenly. "Woman, it's not pwoper to have our bekfus in our nightdwesses; and these are such keer nightdwesses, not at all what they ought to be. Our mother would not like us to be dwessed in this sort of style. Can you get our day dwesses, p'ease, for us to put on, Aunt Sawah?"

"No; I can't get the dresses you wore yesterday," replied Aunt Sarah; "but for all that you shall wear a very pretty little frock. I have got a blue one for you with white wings. What do you say to that?"

"B'ue, with white wings?" echoed Diana. "It sounds pwetty; but I must have a b'ack bow, p'ease, woman, 'cos our mother has gone away to the angels, you underland; and when mothers go to the angels little girls wear b'ack bows—at least, that's what Iris says. Oh, I say, Orion," suddenly concluded Diana; "what is we to do without Iris? She is our little mother now. You underland what I mean; doesn't you, Orion?"

The only answer Orion made was to fling himself flat down on the floor and begin to howl with all his might.

"You had best not do that, young sir," said Aunt Sarah, "for if Uncle Ben hears he'll be awful angry. He is a terrible man when he's angered. It's only right I should tell you the solemn truth, you poor little kids."

"We isn't kids; we is sildrens," said Diana.

"Well, you poor little children, then. Now, young master, if you'll take my advice, you'll do exactly what I tell you. I'm going to be a friend to you and to your little sister. I'll give you, by hook or by crook, the very best food I can get, and the prettiest dresses to wear, and I'll see that my husband, Ben Holt, aint rough to you, and I'll see, also, that Molly and Kitty and Susan, the circus girls, are kind to you, and that Tom, the clown, behaves as he ought; but I can do nothing if you won't obey me. And if you begin by angering Uncle Ben, why, it'll be all up with you, my little dears."

"I don't know what you mean by all up," answered Diana, her eyes sparkling brightly; "and what's more, I don't care. But I'd like to know if you has a weal live clown about, 'cos I like clowns and I love pant'mimes. I went to a pant'mime 'fore mother was took to the angels."

"Our show is something like a pantomime, and yet it's different," replied Aunt Sarah. "Now then, missy, stop talking, for we has no time to waste. Come over here and let me put this nice stuff on your face. It won't hurt you one little bit—it's just to make you look a little browner than you do now, you and little master. Now, come along here, and let me do it at once. Afterwards, I'll dress you in real pretty things. You, little missy, shall wear some of my own child's clothes—the little Rachel what died. My heart broke when she died, missy, and if I didn't mean to be real kind to you I wouldn't put her pretty little dress on you, that I wouldn't."

Orion stepped back in some alarm when he saw the woman stirring something very brown and ugly in a tin can.

"I don't want that horrid stuff on my face," he said.

"But you must have it, master; if you don't, Uncle Ben will use you dreadful," said the woman. "Now, missy, tell your little brother to be guided by me. If he don't do what I tell 'im he'll suffer, and I won't be able to help either of you."

"Don't be silly, Orion," said Diana. "What do a little bwown stuff matter? And Aunt Sawah's wather a nice sort of woman. I'll do what you wish, Aunt Sawah." She came up as she spoke, pushed her black, tangled hair away from her charming little face, and allowed Aunt Sarah to cover it with the walnut juice. "It's sort of sticky, and it don't smell nice," said the little girl; "but I spects you can't help it. I spects you is kind about your heart; isn't you?"

"Yes, my little dear; I try to be," said the woman. "Now, call your brother over, and let me dye his face and neck and little hands."

"Come 'long, Orion," said Diana; "don't be silly."

"You do look so ugly, Diana," answered Orion.

"Well, what do it matter?" said Diana. "I has to p'ease Aunt Sawah; she's a nice sort of a woman. I wather like her."

Orion, who had always submitted to Diana, submitted again now as a matter of course. The walnut dye was not pleasant; he felt quite sticky and uncomfortable, but he allowed it to cover his little face and his white neck and hands.

The dye dried very quickly, and the children looked as like two gypsies as possible when they surveyed one another.

"Now, I'm going to fetch the clothes," said Aunt Sarah.

She left the room, returning in a very few moments with a pretty spangled suit of knickerbockers, which she put on Orion, and which quite enchanted him.

"If you are a good boy," she continued, "you won't dislike the life with us. I wonder if you are fond of horses?"