“As fast as we can,” echoed Diana.  “All wight, Orion; I’s k’ite sati’fied.”

“Well, come, then,” said Orion; “get up.”

“I don’t think I care to.”

“But we can’t run away if you are lying there.”

“No more we can,” said Diana.  She laughed again.  “Isn’t it fun?” she said.  “And so Rub-a-Dub isn’t dead after all?”

“Yes; of course he is.”

“Orion, look!” said the child; “look!”

“Look at what?” answered the little fellow.  “Oh, Diana! don’t say it’s Uncle Ben!”

“I don’t know nothing ’bout no Uncle Ben; but didn’t you see something flash there?—­something white, just over there?  I know who it was; it was mother.  Mother has gone to the angels, but she has come back.  Mother! mother! come here!  Call her, Orion; call her, call her!”

“Mother! mother!” said the little boy; “mother, come here!”

But there was no answer to this cry, which, on the part of Orion at least, was full of agony.  No answer either from the heaven above or the earth beneath.

“It was a mistake, I s’pect,” said Diana.  “Mother is in heaven; she’s a beautiful angel, singing loud.  Well, let’s come ’long.”  She staggered to her feet, and, supported by Orion, began to walk across the field.  “Let’s go into the garding,” she said.

Poor little Orion was quite in despair.

“We are miles from the garden,” he said.  “I think you have gone silly.”

“S’pect I has,” said Diana.  “What fun!”

“And you have got such a queer look on your face.”

“A k’eer look on my face?” repeated Diana.

“Yes; and your eyes, they are ever so big; they frighten me.”

“My eyes k’ite fwighten you, poor little boy,” said Diana.  “Well, let’s wun; let’s get to the garding.  Why, it’s the day mother went away to the angels, and we has got no lessons.  Where’s Iris?  I want Iris.”

“So do I,” said Orion.  “Oh, Di! what is to become of us?  You frighten me.”

“K’ite fwighten poor little boy,” echoed Diana.  “I’s sossy, but I can’t help it.  I’s giddy in my head.  Does this way lead to garding, Orion?”

“No.  What are we to do?” said Orion.  “Oh, I am so frightened!” He really was.  Diana’s strange behavior was more than he could understand.  “Oh, I’m so bitter hungry!” he cried.  He flung himself on the grass.

Diana stood and looked at him with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Why, you is a poor little boy,” she said.  “Now, if you’ll take my hand we’ll go indoors, and Fortune will give us a lovely bekfus.  Come, Orion; don’t be fwightened, poor little boy.”

They walked across the field.  By this time the sun was up and the place felt warm and dry.  Little Orion, shivering in his queer circus dress, was glad of this, and a faint degree of returning courage came into his heart.

Diana did not seem to feel anything at all.  She walked along, singing as she walked.