Diana gazed gravely up at him. She did not know anything about the work being wholesome or the reverse. The dead creatures had to be properly treated, and had to be buried either privately or publicly--that was essential--nothing else mattered at all to her. "As Rub-a-Dub is such a dear darlin', I should not be s'prised if Iris did have a public funeral," she commented. "But what is the difference, Di? Tell me," said her father. "Oh, father! you are ig'rant. At a pwivate funeral the poor dead 'un is just sewn up in dock leaves and stuck into a hole in the cemetery." "The cemetery! Good Heavens, child! do you keep a cemetery in the garden?" "Indeed we does, father. We have a very large one now, and heaps and heaps of gravestones. Apollo writes the insipcron. He is quite bothered sometimes. He says the horrid work is give to him,--carving the names on the stones and killing the half-dead 'uns,--but course he has to do it 'cos Iris says so. Course we all obey Iris. When it is a pwivate funeral, the dead 'un is put into the ground and covered up, and it don't have a gravestone; then of course, by and by, it is forgot. You underland; don't you, father?" "Bless me if I do," said Mr. Delaney, in a puzzled tone. "But if it is a public funeral," continued Diana, strutting boldly forward now, and throwing back her head in quite a martial attitude, "why, then it's grand. There is a box just like a coffin, and cotton wool--we steal the cotton wool most times. We know where Fortune has got a lot of it put away. Iris does not think it quite right to steal, but the rest of us don't mind. And we have banners, and Orion plays the Jew's harp, and I beat the drum, and Iris sings, and Apollo digs the grave, and the dead 'un is put into the ground, and we all cry, or pretend to cry. Sometimes I do squeeze out a tiny tear, but I'm so incited I can't always manage it, although I'm sure I'll cry when Rub-a-Dub is put into the ground. Then afterwards there is a tombstone, and Iris thinks of the insipcron. I spects we'll have a beautiful insipcron for poor Rub-a-Dub, 'cos we all loved him so much." "Well, all this is very interesting, of course," said Mr. Delaney. "But now we must be quick, because your Aunt Jane has come." "Who's her?" asked Diana. "A very good lady indeed--your aunt." "What's an aunt?" "A lady whom you ought to love very much." "Ought I? I never love people I ought to love," said Diana firmly. "Please, father, this is the dead-house. You can come right in if you like, father, and see the dead 'uns; they are all lying on this shelf. Most of them is to be buried pwivate, 'cos they are not our own pets, you know; but Rub-a-Dub is sure to have a public funeral, and an insipcron, and all the rest." Mr. Delaney followed Diana into the small shed which the children called the dead-house. He gazed solemnly at the shelf which she indicated, and on which lay the several dead 'uns.