Mrs. Dolman’s face was quite red.  She was very tired after her long journey, and she had found the little Delaneys not the easiest traveling companions in the world.  It is true that Iris had been as good as possible, but between whiles she had cried a good deal, and her sad face, and somewhat reproachful expression, seemed to hurt Mrs. Dolman even more than the really obstreperous, and at times violent, behavior of her brothers and sister; for the fact is, the other three little Delaneys had not yet got the slightest idea into their heads that they were bound to obey Mrs. Dolman.  Far from this; a sudden and extreme naughtiness had taken possession of their unruly little hearts.  Even Iris’ gentle words had no effect on them.  They hated Aunt Jane; considering her, in their heart of hearts, extremely cruel and unworthy of affection.  Had she not parted them at one blow from their father, their home, their lovely garden, even from poor Fortune, who was better than nobody, and, above all, from their darling, precious pets?  They had none of them been broken-hearted children when their mother died, but they all, even Iris, felt broken-hearted now.  But this fact did not prevent their being extremely naughty and rebellious, and when Diana felt Orion’s hand clutching hers, she whispered to him in an indignant voice: 

“Come ’long, ’Rion, let’s have a wun—­my legs is so stiff; and, Orion, I has got the box, and we can open it when we is away by our own two selves.”

“What are you talking about, little children?” questioned Mary Dolman.  “You mean to run away all by yourselves.  But you must do nothing of the sort.  This is not the hour for running about in the open air.  There is supper ready for us all in the dining room, but I think mamma would like you first to go upstairs and have your faces and hands washed.  If you will follow me, I’ll show you where to go.”

“Thank you, Mary,” said Mrs. Dolman, who had overheard her daughter.  “Ann, my dear, what are you staring at me for?  Go and help your cousins.  Now, you four children, follow Lucy and Ann to your rooms, where my servant, Simpson, will attend upon you.  Go, children, at once.  If there is any naughtiness, remember I shall have to punish you severely.”

“What do she mean by that?” said Diana, fixing her eyes on Mary’s face.  “I never did like aunts.  Is she your aunt?”

“No; she is my mother,” said Mary, “and you must not speak in that tone of mamma.”

“I’ll speak in any tone I p’ease,” replied Diana.  “Ise not going to be fwightened.  But what do she mean by punish?  Who will she punish?”

“She will punish you,” replied Mary.  “Were you never punished?”

“Never.  I don’t know what it means.  Is it nasty?”

“Oh, isn’t it!” said Philip, who came up at that moment.  “What a lark it will be to see you punished, Diana.  I wonder when your first time will come?  I expect rather soon.  You had best obey mamma, I can tell you, and papa too; if you don’t, you’ll just catch it hot.”