"Of course they must, Diana," said Iris, coming forward, "and, Apollo, there is not the least harm in our going into the garden, and I don't think there is any harm in Orion playing with his Noah's ark. Come, children; come with me. We will feed all the pets and then go into the arbor, and, if you like, I will tell you stories." "What sort of stories?" asked Diana, in quite a cheerful voice. She trotted up to her sister, and gave her her hand as she spoke. She also was a finely made child, not unlike her name. "I 'gree with Orion," she said. "I'm quite certain sure that mother is coming back 'fore long. Fortune did talk nonsense. She said, Iris--do you know what she said?--she said that in the middle of the night, just when it was black dark, you know, a white angel came into the room and took mother in his arms and flew up to the sky with her. You don't believe that; do you, Iris?" "Yes, I do, Diana," answered Iris. "But I will tell you more about it in the arbor. Come, Apollo; mother would not like us to stay in the house just because she has gone away to the angels. Mother never was the least little bit selfish. Come into the garden." The three forlorn-looking little children were much comforted by Iris' brave words. They dried their eyes, and Diana ran into the night nursery to fetch their hats. They then ran downstairs without anyone specially noticing them, passed through the great entrance hall, and out on to the wide gravel sweep, which led by a side walk into the lovely garden. Iris held Diana by one hand and Orion by the other, and Apollo ran on in front. "Now, then," said Iris, when they had reached the garden, "we must begin by feeding all the pets." "There _are_ an awful lot of them," said Diana, in quite a cheerful voice; "and don't you remember, Iris, the poor innocent was not buried yesterday?" Iris could not help giving a little shiver. "No more it was," she said, in a low tone. "It must have quite a private funeral. Please get some dock leaves, Apollo." "Yes," answered Apollo. He ran off, returning with a bunch in a moment or two. "Take them into the dead-house," said Iris, "and sew them up and put the poor innocent inside, and then take your spade and dig a hole in the cemetery. We can't have a public funeral. I--I don't feel up to it," she added, her lips trembling for the first time. Diana nestled close up to Iris. "You need not look sad, Iris," she said; "there's no cause, is there? I don't believe that story 'bout mother, and if it is not true there'll be nothing wrong in my laughing, will there?" "You may laugh if you like, darling," answered Iris. They all entered the arbor now, and Iris seated herself in the little chair which mother had seen father make, and round which the beautiful flowers of the iris had been carved. "Laugh, Di," she said again; "I know mother won't mind."