“Please, Diana, don’t go!” called out Ann; but Diana did not hear her.  Putting wings to her sturdy little feet, she sped across the lawn, ran helter-skelter into the house, and up to the room where she had slept.

The room was empty, the windows were wide open, the little bed was neatly made; there was not a sign of the precious box to be discovered anywhere.

“Where is that howid old nurse?” called Diana aloud.  “She must know where my pets is.  Oh, they must be desp’te hungry, poor darlin’s.  I say, nurse, where is ’oo?  Nurse, come ’long, you howid old thing!”

Simpson, who happened to be in the day-nursery not far away, heard Diana’s imperious little cry.  The under-nurse was also standing in the room.

“Mrs. Simpson,” she said, “I hear one of the strange little ladies calling out for you.”

“Well, and so do I hear her,” answered Mrs. Simpson, with a toss of her head; “but she must learn to speak respectful before I take any notice.  I fully expect it’s that pert little Miss Diana.  They say she is called after one of the heathen gods; no wonder she is so fiery and—­”

But at that moment the fierce little face, the jet-black head and sparkling eyes were seen peeping round the nursery door.

“There you is, old Simpson; that’s wight,” said Diana, dancing up to her.  “Now, p’ease, tell me where you put my box.”

“What box, miss?  I’ll thank you, Miss Diana, not to call me old Simpson.  My name is Mrs. Simpson.”

“I only call you what you is,” said Diana.  “You is old, your hair is gway; you is awfu’ old, I ’spect.  Now, where is my box?  Where did you put it, old—­I mean, Mrs. Simpson?”

“What box, miss?” said Simpson, beginning to temporize, for she really was afraid of the burst of wrath which Diana might give way to when she learned the truth.

“You is a stupid,” said Diana.  “It’s the box what holds my pwecious beetles and spiders.  I want to feed ’em.  I’m just going to catch flies for my spiders.  I know how to catch ’em quite well; and my dear little bettles, too, must be fed on bits of sugar.  Where did you put the box?  The woom I s’ept in is kite tidy.  Where is the box?  Speak, can’t you?”

“Well, then, Miss Diana, I must just tell you the simple truth.  We can’t have no messing with horrid vermin in this house.  I would not stay here for an hour if I thought those odious beetles and spiders were anywhere about.”

“Well, then, you can go,” said Diana; “nobody wants you to stay; you is of no cons’kence.  I want my darlin’ pets, my little home things that comed from the lovely garden; my spiders and my dear beetles.  Where did you put ’em?”

“The fact is, Miss Diana, you want a right good talking to,” said Simpson.  “Well, then, this is the truth.  I have put ’em away.”

“Away!  Where?”

“They are gone, miss; you’ll never find ’em again.”

“Gone!” cried Diana, her face turning pale.  “Gone!  Did Iris let you take ’em away?”