“You talk silly,” replied Diana; “he’s a giant, ’cos mother said he was, and on starful nights you can see him shining in the sky.”

“Bless you, child, don’t take up any more of my time talking that gibberish.”

“Well, he’s not to be punished, ’cos I say he isn’t.  He’s coming with me now to his dinner.  Come ’long, Orion, this minute; I has come to fetch you.  Good-by, Uncle Ben.”

Uncle Ben did not utter a word.  Orion and Diana left the arena, hand in hand.

“What about the black cage now, mister?” said the circus girl, with a sneer.

“Hang me, if I know what the world’s coming to!” said Uncle Ben, scratching his head.  “I can do nothing agen that little gal—­she’s the ’cutest, sharpest, bravest little cuss I ever come across.”

“She’s got the upper hand of you, leastways,” said Susan, with a laugh; “and, for my part,” she added, “I am right glad.  I don’t want that pore little kid to be used hard.”

CHAPTER XX.

“LET’S PERTEND,” SAID DIANA.

The circus was crowded that evening, but neither Diana nor Orion put in an appearance.  They were to make their grand debut together on the following day, for hitherto only Diana had ridden in public.  They were left now in the little room, all alone, but as they were together that did not matter at all to them.  Orion’s weary head rested against his sister’s shoulder.  Her stout little arm was flung round his waist; he was fast asleep, but there were traces of tears on his pale cheeks.  It seemed a very long time now to little Orion since all the world had altered for him.  From being a beautiful place, full of lovely gardens, and lovely homes, and kind people—­from being full of snug little beds to sleep in, and nice food to eat, and loving services of all sorts—­it had suddenly turned and shown its black face to the tenderly nurtured little boy.  Rough words were now his portion; he had a hard bed to lie on, very insufficient and very poor food to eat, and in addition to these things, blows and kicks were measured out to him with a very liberal hand.  Besides these fearful things, he was expected to do what terrified him into the very core of his somewhat timorous heart.  Until he had been kidnaped by Mother Rodesia he had never known that he was really timid, but now this side of his nature had come to the fore.  Day by day he grew more and more frightened, and for the last fortnight he really lost his appetite, and his health began to fail.  He refused to eat the coarse and insufficient food, and when he slept his sleep was broken by bad dreams.  Little Diana knew that there was something very wrong the matter, but she could not quite tell what.  She had a very energetic little brain, however, and it was working now hard in Orion’s behalf.

The noise and shouts made by the circus people were distinctly audible to the two little children.  Orion raised his head, looked around him with a terrified glance, and began to cry feebly.