Iris did not say another word, but she looked more grave and more thoughtful than ever. After a long pause she sat down in her own little chair near the open window. It was a very lovely day, just as beautiful as the one which had preceded it. As the child sat by the window, and the soft, sweet breeze fanned her pale cheeks, an indescribable longing came over her. No one was particularly noticing her. She crept softly out of the room, ran down some passages, and at last found herself once more mounting the turret stairs to the tower. A moment later she had entered the octagon room where she and her mother had talked together on the previous day. The windows were wide open, the pretty room looked just as usual, but mother's sofa was vacant. Iris went straight over to one of the open windows, knelt down, and put her little elbows on the ledge. "Yes, mother," she said, speaking aloud and looking full up at the bright blue sky, "I promise you. I promised you yesterday, but I make a fresh, very, _very_ solemn promise to-day. Yes, I will be a mother to the others; I will try never to think of myself; I will remember, mother darling, exactly what you want me to do. I will try to be beautiful, to be a little messenger of the gods, as you sometimes said I might be, and to be like the rainbow, full of hope. And I will try to help Apollo to be the most beautiful and the bravest boy in the world; and, mother, I will do my best to help Diana to be strong and bright and full of courage; and I will do what I can for Orion--he must be grand like a giant, so that he may live up to the wonderful name you have given him. Mother, it will be very hard, but I promise, I promise with all my might, to do everything you want me to do. I will act just as if you were there and could see, mother, and I will _always_ remember that it is beautiful for you to have gone away, for while you were here you had so much pain and so much illness. I won't fret, mother; no, I won't fret--I promise to be a mother to the others, and there won't be any time to fret." No tears came to Iris' bright eyes, but her little thin face grew paler and paler. Presently she left the window and went slowly downstairs again. Fortune had now left the other children to themselves. They were scattered about the bright day nursery, looking miserable, though they could scarcely tell why. "I don't believe a bit that mother is never coming back," said Orion, in a stout, determined voice. He was a very handsome little fellow, strongly made--he had great big black eyes like his father's. He was standing now with his Noah's ark in his hand. "It is unfeeling of you to want to play with your Noah's ark to-day, Orion," said Apollo. "Now, do you think I would go into my laboratory and try to make a thermometer?" "Well, at least," said Diana, speaking with a sort of jerk, and her small face turning crimson, "whatever happens, the animals must be fed."