“We’ll s’eep in the fields,” echoed Diana, in a vague manner.

Orion took her hand; they ran as fast as they could down a shady lane, for the great circus tent had been put outside the town.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE MILKMAN.

It was a lovely summer’s night, and as the children ran, Orion looked up at the stars.

“Why, it’s a starful night!” he cried, in a joyful voice, “and there’s me.  Do look at me, Di!  There I am up in the sky, ever so big and ’portant.”

“So you is,” said Diana, laughing and then checking herself.  “Is it far to——­”

“To where, Di?”

“To the garding,” said Diana; “to the dead-house where Rub-a-Dub is.  Let’s go and sit on the little bench and see the dead ’uns—­let’s count ’em; I wonder how many there is!” She stopped suddenly and gazed around her.

“What do you mean?” said Orion, in some alarm.  “We are nowhere near the garden.  Don’t you know where we are, Diana?”

“Yes, I do now, course,” she answered, with a laugh.  “I think I was dweaming; it’s my head; it’s keer.  I want to s’eep awfu’.”

“Well, here are the fields,” said Orion; “here’s a beautiful green field, and the moon is shining on it.  Oh, and there’s a hole in the hedge; let’s creep in.”

“Let’s k’eep in,” said Diana.

They pushed their way through the hole and found themselves in a clover field.  The clover, slightly wet with dew, felt very refreshing to their hot little feet.

“Isn’t this ’licious?” said Diana.  “Let’s lie down on the g’een g’ass; let’s s’eep here; I’s awfu’ s’eepy.”

“It’s very near the circus,” said Orion.  “I’m rather frightened for fear Uncle Ben will find us.”

“No, he won’t; it’s all wight,” said Diana.

She allowed her little brother to lead her as far as the hedge, and then nothing would persuade her to go any further.  Down on the damp grass she flung herself, and then next moment was fast asleep.

Orion, aged six, did not think it wrong for Diana to sleep on the wet grass.  The moon shone all over her bare little legs.  She folded her arms when she lay down, and now there was not a stir, nor a movement from her.

Far away, or at least it seemed far away to little Orion, he could see the blinking lights of the town, and when he stood on tiptoe he could also see the lights of the merry-go-rounds and the other accompaniments of the great circus.  He knew that he was dreadfully near his tyrants, and he longed beyond words to awaken Diana and make her go farther away; but she was asleep—­dead tired.  He never could master her.  There was nothing, therefore, but for him to lie down also, close to her.

Accordingly, he flung himself on the grass, laid his head on her shoulder, nestling up close to her for warmth and protection, and in a few moments he had also forgotten his fears, and was calmly living in the blessed land of dreams.  The great Orion overhead looked down on his tiny namesake, and the little boy dreamt that he was a giant in very truth, and that he and Diana were fighting their way through the world.