Nothing interfered with the excursion to the pleasant woods near Super-Ashton Rectory. The children all found themselves there soon after four o'clock on this lovely summer afternoon. They could sit under the shade of the beautiful trees, or run about and play to their hearts' content.
Miss Ramsay was a very severe governess during school hours, but when there was a holiday she was as lax as she was particular on other occasions. This afternoon she took a novel out of her pocket, seated herself with her back to a great overspreading elm tree, and prepared to enjoy herself.
Lucy, Mary, and Ann surrounded Iris; Apollo marched away by himself, and Philip and Conrad mysteriously disappeared with little Orion. Diana thus found herself alone. For a time she was contented to lie stretched out flat on the grass playing soldiers, and watching the tricks of a snow-white rabbit who ran in and out of his hole close by. Presently, however, she grew tired of this solitary entertainment, and sprang to her feet, looking eagerly around her.
"Punishment is a very good thing," she said to herself. "I's punished, and I's lot better. It's now Aunt Jane's turn to be punished, and it's Simpson's turn to be punished—it'll do them heaps of good. First time I's only going to punish 'em, I isn't goingto kill 'em down dead, but I's going to pwick 'em. I is Diana, and mother said I was to live just like the gweat Diana what lived long, long,longago."
Diana began to trot eagerly up and down under the shade of the tall forest trees. She looked about her to right and left, and presently was fortunate enough to secure a pliant bough of a tree which was lying on the ground. Having discovered this treasure, she sat down contentedly and began to pull off the leaves and to strip the bark. When she had got the long, supple bough quite bare, she whipped some string out of her pocket, and converted it into the semblance of a bow. It was certainly by no means a perfect bow, but it was a bow after a fashion.
The bow being made, the arrow must now be secured. Diana could not possibly manage an arrow without a knife, and she was not allowed to keep a knife of her own. Both bow and arrow must be a secret, for if anyone saw her with them it might enter into the head of that person not to consider it quite proper for her to punish Aunt Jane.
"And Aunt Jane must be punished," muttered Diana. "I must make an arrow, and I must pwick her with it. My bow is weally beautiful—it is a little crooked, but what do that matter? I could shoot my arrow now and pwick the twees, if only I could get one made. Oh, here's a darlin' little stick—it would make a lovely arrow, if I had a knife to sharpen the point with. Now, I do wonder what sort of a woman that Miss Wamsay is."
Diana fixed her coal-black eyes on the lady.
"She looks sort of gentle now she's weading," whispered the little girl to herself. "She looked howid this morning in the schoolroom, but she looks sortof gentle now. I even seed her smile a minute back, and I should not be a bit s'prised if she didn't hate Aunt Jane too. I know what I'll do; I'll just go and ask her—there is nothing in all the world like being plain-spoke. If Miss Wamsay hates Aunt Jane, why, course, she'll help me to sharpen my arrow, when I tell her it is to give Aunt Jane a little pwick."
Accordingly Diana approached Miss Ramsay's side, and, as the governess did not look up, she flung herself on the grass near by, uttering a deep sigh as she did so. But Miss Ramsay was intent on her book, and did not take the least notice of Diana's deep-drawn breath. The little girl fidgeted, and tried further measures. She came close up to the governess, and, stretching out one of her fat hands, laid it on one of Miss Ramsay's.
"Don't touch me, my dear," said the lady. "You are much too hot, and your hand is very dirty."
"I's sossy for that," said Diana. "I had to touch you 'cos you wouldn't look up. I has something most 'portant to talk over."
"Have you indeed?" replied Miss Ramsay. She closed her book. The part she was reading was not specially interesting, and she could not help being amused with such a very curious specimen of the genus child as Diana Delaney.
"Well, little girl, and what is it?" she asked.
"I 'spects," said Diana, looking very solemnly into her face, "that you and me, we has both got the same enemies."
"The same enemies! My dear child, what do you mean?" asked Miss Ramsay.
"I 'spects I's wight," said Diana, tossing her black head. "I's not often wrong. I wead your thoughts—I think that you has a desp'ate hate, down deep in your heart, to Aunt Jane."
"Good gracious!" cried the governess, "what does the child mean? Why should I hate Mrs. Dolman?"
"But why should not you?—that's the point," said Diana.
"Well, I don't," said Miss Ramsay.
Diana looked intently at her. Slowly, but surely, her big black eyes filled with tears; the tears rolled down her cheeks; she did not attempt to wipe them away.
"What is the matter with you, you queer little creature?" said Miss Ramsay. "What in the world are you crying about?"
"I is so bitter dis'pointed," repeated Diana.
"What, because I don't hate your Aunt Jane?"
"I is bitter dis-pointed," repeated Diana. "I thought, course, you hated her, 'cos I saw her look at you so smart like, and order you to be k'ick this morning, and I thought, 'Miss Wamsay don't like that, and course Miss Wamsay hates her, and if Miss Wamsay hates her, well, she'll help me, 'cos I hates her awful.'"
"But do you know that all this is very wrong?" said Miss Ramsay.
"W'ong don't matter," answered Diana, sweeping her hand in a certain direction, as if she were pushing wrong quite out of sight. "I hate her, and I want to punish her. You ought to hate her, 'cos she told you to be k'ick, and she looked at you with a kind of a fwown. Won't you twy and begin? Do, p'ease."
"I really never heard anything like this before in the whole course of my life," said Miss Ramsay. "Mrs. Dolman did warn me to be prepared for much,but I never heard a Christian child speak in the way you are doing."
"I isn't a Chwistian child," said Diana. "I is a heathen. Did you never hear of Diana what lived long, long ago?—the beautiful, bwave lady that shotted peoples whenever she p'eased with her bow and arrows?"
"Do you mean the heathen goddess?" said Miss Ramsay.
"I don't know what you call her, but I is named after her, and I mean to be like her. My beautiful mother said I was to be like her, and I'm going to twy. See, now, here is the bow"—she held up the crooked bow as she spoke—"and I only want the arrow. Will you help me to make the arrow? I thought—oh, I did think—that if you hated Aunt Jane you would help me to make the arrow. Here's the stick, and if you have a knife in your pocket you can just sharpen it, and it will make the most perfect arrow in all the world. I'll love you then. I'll help you always. I'll do my lessons if you ask me, and I'll twy to be good to you; 'cos you and me we'll both have our enemies, and p'w'aps, if I'm not stwong enough to use the bow, p'w'aps you could use it, and we might go about together and sting our enemies, and be weal fwiends. Will you twy? Will you make me the little arrow, p'ease, p'ease?"
"And what are you going to do with the arrow when it is made?" asked Miss Ramsay. "I happen," she continued, without waiting for Diana's reply, "to have a knife in my pocket, and I don't mind sharpening that piece of wood for you. But bows and arrows are dangerous weapons for little girls like you."
"Course they is dangerous," said Diana. "Whatwould be the use of 'em, if they wasn't? They is to pwick our enemies and p'w'aps kill 'em."
"But look here, Diana, what do you want this special bow and arrow for?"
"I want to have Aunt Jane Dolman and Simpson shotted. I'll tell you why I want 'em both to be shotted—'cos Simpson killed my spiders and beetles, and Aunt Jane Dolman is a poky old thing and she shut me up in a punishment woom. Now wouldn't you like to help me—and then we'll both have deaded our enemies, and we'll be as happy as the day is long."
Miss Ramsay was so astounded at Diana's remarks that she slowly rose from her seat and stared for nearly half a minute at the little girl.
"Well," she said at last, "I have seen in my lifetime all sorts of children. I have taught little girls and boys since I was eighteen years of age. I have seen good children and naughty children, and clever children, and stupid children, but I have never met anyone like you, little Diana Delaney. Do you really know what you are saying? Do you know that you are a very, very wicked little girl?"
"Are I?" said Diana. "Well, then, I like being a wicked little girl. I thought p'w'aps you would help me; but it don't matter, not one bit."
Before Miss Ramsay could say another word Diana had turned abruptly and flown, as if on the wings of the wind, right down through the wood.
The governess watched the little figure disappearing between the oaks and elms until at last it quite vanished from view. She felt a momentary inclination to go after the child, but her book was interesting, and her seat under the overhanging elm extremelycomfortable. And this was a holiday, and she worked hard enough, poor thing, on working days. And, after all, Diana was nothing but a silly little child, and didn't mean half she said.
"It would be folly to take the least notice of her remarks," thought the governess. "I'll just go on treating her like the others. I expect I shall have a good deal of work breaking in that interesting little quartette, for, after all, if my salary is to be raised, I may as well stay at the Rectory as anywhere else. The house is comfortable, and I have got used to Mrs. Dolman's queer ways by this time."
Accordingly Miss Ramsay reseated herself, and again took up her novel. She turned the leaves, and soon got into a most interesting part of the volume. Lost in the sorrows of her hero and heroine, she forgot all about Diana Delaney and her bow and arrow.
Meanwhile, Diana, walking rapidly away by herself, was reflecting hard.
"Miss Wamsay's a poor sort," she thought. "I aren't going to twouble 'bout anyone like her, but I must get that arrow made. The bow is beautiful, but I can't do nothing 'cos I hasn't got an arrow."
At this moment, to her great delight, she saw Apollo coming to meet her.
"There you is!" she shouted.
"What do you want with me?" asked Apollo.
"Look at my bow, 'Pollo! Aren't it beautiful? Aren't I just like the weal Diana now?"
"Did you make this bow all by yourself?" asked Apollo.
"Yes; why shouldn't I?"
"Well, it's awfully crooked."
"Is it?" said Diana; "I thought it was beautiful. Can you stwaighten it for me a little bit, 'Pollo?"
"I think I can make you a better bow than this," answered Apollo.
"Oh, can you? What a darlin' you is! And will you cut an arrow for me, and will you make it very sharp? Will you make it awfu' sharp? The kind that would pwick deep, you know, that would cut into things and be like the arrow that the gweat Diana used."
Apollo was finding his afternoon somewhat dull. He had made no friends as yet with the little Dolman children. Orion had disappeared with both the boys; Iris was with Ann, Lucy, and Mary; he had been thrown for the last hour completely on his own resources. The sight, therefore, of Diana, with her flushed face and bright eyes and spirited manner, quite cheered the little fellow. He and Diana had often been chums, and he thought it would be rather nice to be chummy with his little sister to-day.
"I may as well help you," he said, "but, of course, Di, you can't expect me to do this sort of thing often. I shall most likely be very soon going to school, and then I'll be with fellows, you know."
"What's fellows?" asked Diana.
"Oh, boys! Of course, when I get with boys, you can't expect me to be much with you."
"All wight," answered Diana. "I hope you won't get with no fellows this afternoon, 'cos you is useful to me. Just sit down where you is, and help me to make a bow and arrow."
Apollo instantly seated himself on the grass, and Diana threw herself on her face and hands by his side. She raised herself on her elbows and fixed her brightblack eyes on her brother's face. She stared very hard at him, and he stared back at her.
"Well," she said, "isn't you going to begin?"
"Yes," he replied; "but what do you want the bow and arrow for?"
"To get my enemies shotted."
"Your enemies? What folly this is, Di. You have not got any enemies."
"Haven't I? I know better. I won't talk to you about it, 'Pollo."
"All right," replied Apollo; "you must tell me, or I won't help you."
"There, now!" said Diana, "you's got a howid fwown between your bwows. I don't like it; you's going to be obs'nate. I don't like obs'nate boys."
"I mean what I say," replied Apollo. "I know you of old, you monkey. You are up to mischief, and I insist upon hearing all about it."
Diana gazed at him solemnly.
"Does you like Aunt Jane?" she said, after a pause.
"I can't say that I do," replied Apollo.
"Does you like that old thing in the nursery—Simpson, they calls her?"
"I can't say that I do," replied the boy again.
"They is sort of enemies of yours, isn't they?" asked Diana.
"Oh! I don't know that I go as far as that," replied Apollo.
"But if Aunt Jane makes you do howid lessons all day, and if Simpson is always fussing you and getting you to wash your face and hands, and if you can't never go withfellows, and if you is kept in—and if—and if—"
"Oh! don't begin all that, Di," said Apollo. "Where is the use of making the worst of things?"
"Well, I want to make the best of things," said Diana. "I want to have our enemies shotted wight off."
"Do you mean to tell me," said Apollo, laughing, "that you wish to shoot Aunt Jane and that old woman in the nursery?"
"I wish to pwick 'em first time, and then, if they is naughty again, to have 'em shotted down dead. Why not? Mother, who is up in the heavens, called me after gweat Diana, and Diana always shotted her enemies."
"Oh, dear me, Di! I think you are the queerest little thing in the world," said Apollo. "But now, look here," he added, "I am older than you, and I know that what you are thinking about is very wrong. I can't make you a bow and arrow to do that sort of thing."
Diana looked bitterly disappointed. She could master, or she fancied she could master, Aunt Jane, Simpson, and Miss Ramsay, but she knew well, from past experience, that she could not master Apollo.
"What is to be done?" she said. She thought for a long time. "Would not you like a bow and arrow just all your own, to shoot at the twees with?" she asked at last artfully.
"Oh, I have no objection to that!" answered Apollo. "It seems right that I should have one; does it not, Di? But of course I would never do any mischief with it. Why, little thing, you have been talking the most awful rot."
"Well, you can make a bow and arrow for your very own self," said Diana.
"I don't see why I shouldn't, but you'll have to promise—"
"Oh, I won't make pwomises!" said Diana. "Why should I make pwomises about your bow and arrows? I'll help you to make 'em. Do let me, Apollo!"
Apollo seemed suddenly smitten with the idea. After all, it would be fine to make a bow and arrow, and to try to shoot things in the wood. How lovely it would be if he succeeded in shooting a rabbit; he would certainly have a try. Accordingly, he rose and climbed into the lower branches of an elm tree, and cut down a long, smooth young bough, and, descending again to the ground, began to peel the bark off. When this was done, Diana produced some more string out of her pocket, and a very creditable bow was the result.
"Now, the arrow," said the little girl.
"We must get some strong wood for that," said Apollo, "something that won't split. I'll just walk about and look around me." He did so, and soon found a stick suitable for his purpose. He sat down again and began whittling away. Very soon a fairly sharp arrow was the result. "Of course it ought to be tipped," said Apollo, "but we have nothing to tip it with. It is lucky that the wood is hard, and so it is really sharp. Now, shall I have a few shots with it?"
"Please do, Apollo. Oh, how 'licious it all is! Don't you feel just as if you was a heathen god?"
"I wish I were," said Apollo, throwing back his head. "Oh, Di, how hot it is in the wood! What wouldn't I give to be back in the dear old garden again?"
"Maybe we'll go soon," said Diana; "maybe theywon'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.
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 greatmany 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 allownowandering 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 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 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 lowerand 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 abig 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?"
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 wantyouto 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 ofthatsort 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.
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 bynature 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 shecould 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 herarms, 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 threatensme. 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,temperall 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 tomake 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.