Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Motherless families -- Juvenile fiction; Siblings -- Juvenile fiction
"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?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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