"Oh, Aunt Jane!" said Iris, tears springing to her eyes, "how could you be cruel to her, and she is not long without mother, you know--how could you be cruel to her, Aunt Jane?"
"You are not to dare to speak to me in that tone, Iris," said Aunt Jane.
But at that moment the noise, or perhaps it was the draught of fresh air, caused Diana to stir in her sleep. She raised her head and looked around her. The first person her eyes met was Iris.
"So you has come at last," she said. "I don't think much of you for a mother. You made a lot of pwomises, and that's all you care. Has that ugly old woman been sent to pwison? There's my darlin' pets gone and got deaded, and she deaded 'em. Has she been put in pwison for murder? Oh, there you is, too, old Aunt Jane! Well, I is not going to obey you, so there! Now you know the twuf. I is Diana, the gweat Diana. I isn't going to obey nobody!"
"Iris," said Mrs. Dolman, "will you speak to this extremely naughty little girl? If she will not repent and beg my pardon she shall have no dinner. I will send her in some bread and water; and here she shall stay until her naughty little spirit is broken."
Mrs. Dolman left the room as she spoke, and Iris found herself alone with her sister.
"You isn't much of a mother," repeated Diana. She went over to the window, and stood with her back to Iris. Her little bosom was heaving up and down; she felt very forlorn, but still she hugged her misery to her as a cloak.
"Di," she said, "I never saw you like this before. What are you turning away from me for? Come to me, Di; do come to me."
Diana's little breast heaved more than ever, tears came into her eyes, but she blinked them furiously away.
"You can come to me, if you want; I shan't come to you. You isn't much of a mother," she repeated.
"But I did not know you were in trouble, darling. Do, do come to your own Iris. Do tell me what is the matter."
The first kind note utterly melted her little heart; she rushed to her sister, flung herself upon her, and sobbed as if she would never stop crying.
"We can't stay in this howid place, Iris," she said; "all my darlin's has gone and got deaded. That howid old woman upstairs said they was wermin. She has killed 'em all. I can't stay here; I won't stay here. Take me back to the beautiful garden. Do, Iris; do. I'se just so mis'ble."