“Oh, please, Uncle William!” said Iris, “do you happen to know where Diana is?”

“Little Diana with the spirited black eyes?” questioned Mr. Dolman.

“Yes; do you know anything about her?”

He pushed his spectacles halfway up on his broad, bald forehead.

“I am afraid little Diana has been very naughty,” he said; “but, pray don’t say that I mentioned it.  You had better question your aunt, my dear.  No, there is no use asking me.  I vow, once for all, that I am not going to interfere with you children—­particularly with you little Delaneys.  I only know that Diana has been naughty.  Ask your aunt—­ask your aunt, my dear.”

“Iris, do pray come upstairs,” called out Mary; “we’ll get into the most dreadful scrape if we are late.  Mamma is so terribly particular.”

“Oh, there is Aunt Jane!” said Iris, with a sigh of relief.  “Aunt Jane, please,” she continued, running up to her aunt as she spoke, “I can’t find Diana anywhere.  Do you happen to know where she is?”

“I am afraid you won’t find Diana, Iris,” answered Mrs. Dolman, “for the simple reason that she has been a very impertinent, naughty little girl, and I have been obliged to lock her up.”

“You were obliged to lock her up?” said Iris, her face turning pale.  She gave Mrs. Dolman a look which reminded that lady of her brother.  Now, the little Delaneys’ father could give very piercing glances out of his dark eyes when he chose, and Mrs. Dolman had been known, in her early days, to quail before them.  For the same inexplicable reason she quailed now before the look in Iris’ brown eyes.  “Please take me at once to my sister,” said the little girl, with dignity.

Mrs. Dolman hesitated for a moment.

“Very well, Iris, on this occasion I will take you,” she said.  “But please first understand that you four children have got to bend your wills to mine; and when you are naughty,—­although I don’t expect you will ever be naughty, Iris,—­I trust you, at least, will be an example to the others,—­but when any of you are naughty you will be most certainly punished.  I have brought you here with the intention of disciplining you and making you good children.”

“Then,” said Iris, very slowly, “do you really think, Aunt Jane, that when mother was alive we were bad children?”

“I have nothing to say on that point,” answered Mrs. Dolman.  She led Iris across the cool hall, and, taking a key out of her pocket, opened the door of the punishment chamber.  She threw it wide open, and there, in the center of the matting, lay Diana, curled up like a little dog, very sound asleep.

“Much she cares,” said Mrs. Dolman.

“Oh, Aunt Jane!” said Iris, tears springing to her eyes, “how could you be cruel to her, and she is not long without mother, you know—­how could you be cruel to her, Aunt Jane?”

“You are not to dare to speak to me in that tone, Iris,” said Aunt Jane.