“So is you a very naughty old woman,” retorted Diana.  “I’s not going away from this nice old man.  I don’t like you.  I’m going to stay with you, old man, so don’t put me down out of your arms.  You will send for the perlice, won’t you, and you’ll have that howid puson upstairs put in pwison.  Go ’way, aunt.  I never did like you, and I never will, and you is awfu’ poky in that bonnet.  But I’ll go with you, old man.”  Here she flung her fat arms round her uncle’s neck and gave him a hug.

“You are not pwetty like faver,” she said, “you are kite an ugly old man, but all the same I like you;” and she kissed him, a slobbering, wet kiss on his cheek.

“Jane,” said Mr. Dolman, “this poor little girl is in great trouble.  I cannot in the least make out why, but perhaps you had better let her come with me into the library for a few minutes.”

“I’ll allow nothing of the kind,” answered Mrs. Dolman.  “Diana Delaney is an extremely naughty little child, and I am quite determined that her spirit shall be broken.  It was all very well for you to go on with your tantrums at the Manor, miss, but now you are under my control, and you shall do exactly what I wish.  Come, Diana, none of this.  What, you’ll kick me, will you?  Then I shall have you whipped.”

“What’s whipped?” questioned Diana.

Mrs. Dolman stooped down and lifted her into her arms.  She was a stout and largely-made child, and the little woman found her somewhat difficult to carry.  She would not let her down, however, but conducted her across the cool hall and into a room at the further end of the passage.  This room was nearly empty, matting covered the floor and a round table stood in the center, while two or three high-backed chairs, with hard seats, were placed at intervals round the walls.  It was a decidedly dreary room, and rendered all the more so because the morning sun was pouring in through the dusty panes.

This room was well known to all the little Dolmans, for it was called the punishment chamber.  In this room they had all of them shed bitter tears in their time, and some of the spirit which had been given to them at their birth was subdued and broken here, and here they learned to fear mamma, although not to respect her.  They were all accustomed to this chamber, but little Diana Delaney had never in the whole course of her spirited six years heard of anything in the least resembling this odious and ugly apartment.

“Here you stay until you beg my pardon,” said Mrs. Dolman, “and if I hear you daring to call me names again, or your uncle names, or doing anything but just behaving like a proper little Christian child, I shall have you whipped.  I believe in not sparing the rod, and so the child is not spoiled.  What, you’ll defy me, miss!”

“I hate you,” screamed Diana, “and I want you to go to pwison too, as well as that awfu’ old Simpson upstairs.  She has gone and murdered all my animals—­she said they was vermin.  Oh, I hate you, aunt!”