Meanwhile, the heat of the room, and a curious giddy sensation in her head, caused it to sink lower and lower, until finally it rested on her book, and little Diana was off in the land of dreams.

A sharp tap on her shoulders roused her with a start.  Miss Ramsay was standing over her, looking very angry.

“Come, Diana! this will never do,” she cried.  “How dare you go to sleep!  Do you know your geography?”

“P’ease, I doesn’t know what jog-aphy is,” said Diana.

“What a very naughty little girl you are!  Have not I been taking pains to explain it all to you?  You will have to stay in the schoolroom when lessons are over for quite five minutes.  Now, stand up on your chair, hold your book in your hands, don’t look out of the window, keep your eyes fixed on your book, and then you will soon learn what is required of you.”

Diana obeyed this mandate with a very grave face.

In about ten minutes Miss Ramsay called her to her side.

“Well, do you know your lesson?” she asked.

“Kite perfect,” replied Diana.

“Well, let me hear you.  What is the capital of England?”

“Dublin Bay,” replied Diana, with avidity.

“You are a very naughty child.  How can you tell me you know your lesson?  See, I will ask you one more question.  What is the capital of Scotland?”

“Ireland,” answered Diana, in an earnest voice.

Miss Ramsay shut the book with a bang.  Diana looked calmly at her.

“I thought I knew it,” she said.  “I’s sossy.  I don’t think I care to go on learning jog-aphy; it don’t suit me.”  She stretched herself, gave utterance to a big yawn, and half turned her back on her teacher.  “You is getting in temper,” she continued, “and that isn’t wight; I don’t care to learn jog-aphy.”

What serious consequences might not have arisen at that moment it is hard to tell, had not Orion caused a sudden diversion.  He fell off his chair in a heap on the floor.

Iris sprang from her seat and ran to the rescue.

“I’m drefful sick,” said Orion; “I think it was the lollipops and ginger-beer.  Please let me go to bed.”

“Lollipops and ginger-beer!” cried Miss Ramsay in alarm.  “What does the child mean?”

CHAPTER XII.

A BABY’S HONOR.

When Miss Ramsay repeated Orion’s words there was a dead silence for a full half minute in the schoolroom.  Had anyone noticed them, they might have observed Philip and Conrad turn very pale; but all eyes were directed to little Orion, who was lying on the floor, pressing his hand to his stomach and moaning bitterly.

“I’m drefful sick,” he said; “I wish I had not taken that horrid ginger-beer.”

“But where did you get ginger-beer?” said Miss Ramsay, finding her voice at last.  “Get up this minute, Orion, and come to me.

“Really,” continued the good lady to herself, “there must be something uncanny in those outlandish names; I don’t think I can manage these children.  Orion is as bad as Diana, and she is the greatest handful I ever came across.