“Never mind if it is really settled,” she said.  “I will try hard to bear it.”

“You are about the bravest little darling in the world,” said Mr. Delaney.

“What are you talking about, Iris?” cried Apollo, clutching his sister by her long hair as she spoke.  “You say that you will try and bear it, and that father is not to mind?  But father must mind.  If I go to Aunt Jane Dolman’s, why—­why, it will kill me.”  And the most beautiful of all the heathen gods cast such a glance of scorn at his parent at that moment that Mr. Delaney absolutely quailed.

“For goodness’ sake, Apollo, don’t eat me up,” he said.  “The fact is this, children; I may as well have the whole thing out.  Aunt Jane came last night and took me by surprise.  I have been very lonely lately, and you know, you poor little mites, you cannot be left to the care of Fortune.  She is a very good soul, but you want more than her to look after you, and then Miss Stevenson—­I never did think her up to much.”

“Father,” said Apollo, “you have no right to abuse our spiritual pastors and masters.”

Notwithstanding his heathenish name, it will be seen by this remark that some of his time was occupied learning the church catechism.

“I stand corrected, my son,” said Mr. Delaney, “or, rather, at the present moment, I lie corrected.  Well, children, the truth must out—­Aunt Jane took me by surprise.  She promises she will look after you and be a mother to you.”

“We don’t want no other mother, now that our own mother is gone, except Iris,” said Apollo.  “We won’t have Aunt Jane for a mother.”

“She is a howid old thing, and I hate aunts,” said Diana.

“Well, children, I am very sorry for you, but it is too late to do anything now.  The whole thing is arranged.  I hope you will try to be good, and also to be happy with Aunt Jane.  You won’t find her half bad when you get to know her better, and of course I won’t be very long away, and when I come back again—­”

“Please don’t say any more, father,” interrupted Iris.  She slipped off the bed and stood very pale and still, looking at her father with eyes which, notwithstanding all her efforts, were full of reproach.

“Come, children,” she said to the others, “let poor father have his sleep out.  It is quite early, father, and—­and we understand now.”

“Do say you are not angry with me, you dear little kids.  I would not hurt you for the whole world.”

“Of course we are not angry, father,” said Iris.  She bent slowly forward and kissed her father on his forehead.  “Go to sleep, father; we are sorry we woke you so early.”

“Yes, father, go to s’eep,” echoed Diana.  “I underland all ’bout it.  You won’t have no hobgoblins now to dweam about, for I has got off your knees.  They was lovely and flat, and I didn’t mind sitting on them one bit.”

“All the same, Diana, I am obliged to you for getting off,” said Mr. Delaney, “for I was beginning to get quite a terrible cramp, to say nothing of my sensations at having this giant Orion planting himself on my chest.  I will have a long talk with you all, darlings, in the course of the day, and I do hope you won’t be very unhappy with your Aunt Jane Dolman.”