“Then I wishes to say something,” remarked Diana.  “I wishes to say it bold, and I wishes to say it soon.  I hate cousins, more ’specially first, and I hate nurses.  There, now, you can go downstairs, first cousin, and tell aunt, and she can punish me.  I don’t care.  You can tell your mamma just what you p’ease.”

Diana strutted across the room, deposited her box on the washhand-stand, and then, turning round once again, began to view the company.  What might have happened at that moment there is no saying, if Iris had not come to the rescue.

“Please don’t mind her,” she said; “she is only a very little child and she has gone through great trouble, for our mother—­our own mother—­she has left us, you know.  Diana does not really mean to be rude.  Please let me talk to her.  Di, darling, come to me, come to Iris.”

It was impossible to resist Iris when she spoke in that tone, and when she looked at Diana with her speaking dark eyes, and that gentle, beautiful expression on her little face, it seemed to Diana then as if the hard journey, and the pain of all the partings had never taken place at all.  She rushed up to her sister, clasped her fat arms round her neck, and began to sob.

“Poor little thing, she is dreadfully tired!” said Iris.  “If I might have a little bread and milk to give her, and then if she might be put to bed, I know she would fall asleep immediately and be quite herself in the morning.”

“Indeed, miss, I think you are right,” said Simpson, who could not help gazing at Iris with admiration.  “I see you are a very kind little sister, and of course no one ought to mind the words of a mere baby.  I’ll take it upon me, miss, to do what you suggest, even though my missus may be angry.  Oh, my word! there’s the supper gong.  You must go down at once, Miss Iris, you really must.  I cannot answer for two of you being absent, but I will speak to Mrs. Dolman afterwards, and tell her that I just put Miss Diana straight to bed, for she was much too sleepy to go downstairs again.”

“But I won’t let you leave me, Iris,” almost screamed Diana, tightening her arms round her sister’s neck.

“Please let me stay here,” said Iris.  “I do not really want any supper, and I know how to manage her.  She has gone through a great deal.”

“Well, miss, do you dare?”

“Oh, I dare anything!  I am quite positive certain Aunt Jane won’t mind when I tell her my own self what I have done.”

“I will tell mamma; she shan’t mind,” said little Ann suddenly.

Iris looked up at her and smiled—­Ann smiled back at her.  The hearts of the two little cousins were knit together in real love from that moment.

The gong sounded again downstairs, and this time in a distinctly angry manner.  The three Dolman girls and the two Delaney boys had to hurry off as fast as they could, and then Iris undressed Diana and put her into her snug little white bed.